“Are you sure you can handle this?” Kris asked, glancing at his husband in the rearview mirror.

Marcus hauled in a deep breath. “It’s just a needle,” he said- but he didn’t sound convinced. Marcus had a deep seated hatred of needles, and the idea of a needle being driven through his skin- even for as selfless a purpose as giving blood- had him breathing quickly. It amused Kris a tiny bit, even if he wouldn’t let even a hint of a smile come to his lips; the unfazable Marcus Crue, frightened by the tiny prick of a needle.

“Alright. Let’s go in then.” Kris got out of the car, which had been turned off for ten minutes in the parking lot while Marcus fought his panic attack.

Marcus froze in the car, pressing himself back against the seat, staring with wide eyes through the windshield at the clinic that was holding a blood drive. Kris ducked his head to hide his smile, walking around the car to open the door for his husband. Marcus forced his head to turn, looking up at the familiar black hair and piercing blue-black eyes of the man he loved. Kris’s mouth turned up in a soft smile, and he offered a slim hand to his better half.

Marcus drew in another deep breath before taking Kris’s hand. Somehow, it always made him feel better, feeling Kris’s fingers slip between his as the other man held tight to him. There was something so loving and comforting about the gesture that it always put Marcus at ease.

It might have had something to do with the fact that he’d known Kris- at least from the sidelines- since middle school. Though it had taken both of them a long time to admit their love, or in Kris’s case to figure out who the person was that he fell in love with, they’d finally declared their love in the last year of high school, and they hadn’t felt any need to part since then. Their love was truer than most seemed to be in the modern age.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Kris murmured in his husband’s ear when Marcus’s fingers tightened around his to the point that Kris winced in pain.

Marcus eased up a little, and looked up at Kris with those usually cool aquamarine eyes. “I can do anything as long as you’re with me.”

Kris couldn’t say anything; a man who could always find the words to say what he wanted, he couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat, couldn’t find words because of the warmth that filled him at those words. He was pretty sure there were tears in his eyes, a suspiscion that was confirmed when Marcus reached up to wipe away the ones that spilled over.

“Silly man,” he said softly, with a smile, “You should know this by now. I don’t know why it always makes you cry.”

Kris shook his head silently, because Marcus also knew the reason why it always made him cry; the youngest of five sons, he’d spent the majority of his life certain that he wasn’t important and believing nobody put him first- until Marcus, until senior year when his father named him his successor, until Aaron had come in and completely changed their lives.

“Let’s go in, then,” Marcus said, tugging his husband in the direction of the clinic, all of his fears banished in the face of how much Kris loved him. Kris followed meekly, making Marcus smile again- if it were anyone but him, they’d receive a tongue lashing for trying to lead the ravenette around.

Their hands came apart when Kris opened the door for him, and Marcus went through first. A nurse chirped her good morning, asking him several question as she led him over to one of the chairs, prepping a needle as he sat down. “That’s a gorgeous wedding band,” she sighed, obviously thinking it was a shame he was already taken as she looked down at the gold and diamond band on Marcus’s hand.

“Mine is definitely the prettier of the two,” he agreed, glancing over at Kris, who sported a very plain silver band.

“Must be a very lucky woman,” she sighed again, checking to make sure all the equipment was ready before binding his arm, tapping at his inner elbow to make the veins stand out before putting the needle in.

Marcus just smiled, not bothering to correct her. “Very lucky,” he murmured, wincing as the needle went in. His gaze went right back up to Kris, and his eyebrows furrowed. The nurse who had taken him was shaking her head, her hands held up in a gesture that was blatantly obvious- it wasn’t happening.

“Looks like your brother is having a little trouble,” Marcus’s nurse said as she sat down in the chair next to him, “Imagine, a handsome man like that not being a perfect specimen,” she finished with a giggle.

“Brother?” Marcus repeated with a disbeleiving laugh. He had only one sibling, a pretty girl with blonde curls and a smart mouth who’d started her own host club at Sherwood Academy. “I don’t have a brother.”

“Your friend, then. Is he single?” the nurse asked hopefully.

Marcus frowned at her, irritation beginning to swell. “No, he’s married.”

“Damn,” the nurse muttered, “The good ones are always taken. His wife must be very happy with him.”

“Yes, his husband is. I am,” Marcus said, eyes narrowing as the nurse’s eyes widened.

The nurse squeaked. “Oh you’re- you’re an MSM. I’m so sorry!” The needle was jerked out of his arm, making him hiss with pain. Blood welled even as it dripped from the end of the needle, which had been dropped on the floor.

“I’m a what?” Marcus asked sharply.

Kris, who’d stormed over to him with a dark look in his eyes, answered for him. “An MSM- a man who has sex with men,” he said, the purest anger in his voice, his fists clenched by his side.

“One man,” Marcus corrected, his frown becoming one of confusion. “So what? Is that a problem?” his voice darkened, becoming silky with his anger. The nurse squeaked and wheeled her chair away as he stood up; though he was shorted than Kris, he was far more imposing with his air of controlled violence.

“Apparently,” Kris said frostily, “An MSM isn’t allowed to give blood in the United States. We’ve had an indefinite deferral put on us- which means we will never be allowed to give blood, even if one of our relatives is dying and we have the same blood type.”

And even Marcus, who normally kept a cool head, who had seen every type of homophobe the world had to offer- even he couldn’t help the dismissive, angry noise he made. “That’s complete and utter bullshit. They’ll let whores who sleep with every man who’ll have them donate blood- I know, because Cara comes in every month. But an honest man, who’s only ever slept with the one man he loves, can’t donate blood simply because he’s gay? What the hell is wrong with these people?” he asked, gesturing at the nurses and the other donors, who were all staring at them.

“It’s the government, they made the law,” the nurse squeaked, her chair as far away as it could get from the two men without running into the next set of chairs.

Marcus made a sound that was almost a growl. “It’s still bullshit.”

“Come on, Marc, let’s go,” Kris said softly, his hand resting on his husband’s lower back, “There’s nothing we can do.”

Marcus resisted for a moment, but he could never stand against Kris. He did give the entire room one last threatening look, before letting his husband guide him out the door. Marcus maintained a stony, angry silence all through the car ride back to their ridiculously huge home. Only when they were outside of the car, when Kris pulled him into his arms, did Marcus finally let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Will people ever treat us like we’re actually human?” he sighed into his husband’s shoulders, arms tight around the older man.

Kris buried his nose in Marcus’s hair. “We can only hope,” he murmured.

“Dad!” a happy cry broke them apart, and they turned to see a little boy with brass curls running toward them, a huge smile on his face. They both smiled back, Kris kneeling down to sweep their son into his arms, the love of the little boy they’d adopted helping to heal the wound left by people who would never understand.