Baxter allowed himself to be pulled up by Hagen, his brain too numb to even protest. When Hagen had shown up, Baxter had had questions. Like, how did Hagen even know where he lived? What was he doing here in the first place? But none of that mattered enough to spend any more energy on it, because it was taking all his efforts to breathe.

He stood still as Hagen opened his trunk and pulled out a gray fleece blanket, then wrapped it around Baxter. "You're so cold," Hagen said, and Baxter heard it, and on some level he knew Hagen was right, but he couldn't seem to care enough to do something about it. "Let's get you warmed up," Hagen said, his voice filled with a warmth and care Baxter had never heard from him before.

Hagen opened the passenger door, and Baxter responded to the gentle nudges and crawled into the seat. Hagen reached over him to put the key in the ignition and start the car.

"It should warm up quickly, as the engine is still warm," Hagen said as he pushed a few buttons. "I've turned the seat heater on as well."

Baxter knew he should thank him, should say something, but the words wouldn't come.

"Baxter," Hagen said gently, cupping his chin in a tender gesture and turning his face toward Hagen, "is there anything you need from your car?"

He licked his lips that were so cold and cracked. "My backpack," he croaked. "And there's some food in there. Some bars, I think?"

"Don't you worry about food, baby boy. I'll go get your bag."

Hagen closed the passenger door, leaving Baxter by himself in the car, his head reeling. Hagen was being so sweet, so tender, and it was doing something to him inside. The urge to lean into him, to put his head on Hagen's strong shoulder and let go, it was so big and overwhelming. But he couldn't. Robert had shown him what happened when he leaned on people, when he thought he could count on them. People left, and he'd be back to square one.

It only took a minute before Hagen opened the back door and put Baxter's backpack on the back seat. Then he got into the car and looked at Baxter. "Are you sure you have everything you need for now?"

Baxter nodded.

"Okay, let's go."

Baxter didn't speak during the drive, and Hagen seemed content to focus on driving, shooting him a look sideways now and then as if to make sure Baxter was still breathing. When Hagen parked inside his garage and shut off the engine, Baxter realized he was shivering.

"I'm really cold," he told Hagen, and his voice sounded weird even to his own ears.

"I know, baby boy. Let's get you warmed up as soon as possible."

They went inside, Baxter following Hagen like he was a robot. God, it was so warm inside, the comfort of Hagen's house enveloping him like a warm embrace. But he was still shivering, cold to the insides of his bones.

"You need to take off your wet clothes," Hagen said, and automatically, Baxter's hands obeyed and unzipped his coat and took it off, then unbuttoned his soaking wet jeans. He kicked off his shoes, which were sopping wet, then dropped his jeans and pulled his shirt over his head. His plan had been to leave his underwear on, but he realized the stupidity of that, as that too was so wet it clung to his skin.

Hell, his dick had shrunk to the size of a pencil, his balls almost disappeared. He couldn't be bothered to care what Hagen would think. All he wanted was to get warm again. With a gesture that seemed to cost way more energy than it should have, he pulled down his underwear.

"Good boy," Hagen said, and those two simple words warmed Baxter's heart, even if the rest of him was still as cold as a popsicle. "Come upstairs with me."

He'd never been upstairs, but Baxter barely looked around as he followed Hagen through the kitchen, into the hallway and up the stairs. Hagen opened a door that led to a classically decorated bedroom, dominated by a huge four-poster king bed.

"Get into bed," Hagen said.

Baxter wanted to protest, wanted to ask why he couldn't take a hot shower, as that would warm him up much faster, but before he could even say anything, Hagen said, "You're too cold to take a shower now. That can warm you up too quickly and lead to cardiac issues, especially with how malnourished you are. Get into bed, baby boy. I’ll help you warm up and then you can take a bath, okay?"

Baxter decided it was much, much easier to go along with whatever Hagen said. He was too tired to argue, too cold. So he pulled back the thick comforter that felt like it was made of feathers and crawled into the bed, pulling the covers right back on top of him. His teeth were clattering now, the noise almost as frustrating as his brain that wouldn't function normally.

He closed his eyes, too tired to keep them open. Behind him, he heard rustling, and then the covers were lifted again, and a warm, naked body slid in right next to him. Without being asked, he turned on his side, facing away from Hagen, and within a second, Hagen wrapped his limbs around him, pulling him flush against his body. Oh god, he was so warm, it almost hurt Baxter's skin.

Naked. Hagen was buck naked, and the reason Baxter knew that for a fact was that his dick was poking him. He wondered for two seconds if he should care, then decided that he really didn't, and snuggled even closer to Hagen.

"You're so cold, my sweet boy," Hagen whispered near his ear. "But don't you worry, I've got you now. Let’s get you warmed up, and then you’ll take a nice bath while I make you something to eat. I'm going to take care of you, don't you worry now."

It had been so long since someone had taken care of him, and Baxter hadn't even realized how much he had missed it, how much he had needed it, until he felt tears roll over his cheeks at Hagen's words. It did something to him, this sweet, tender care, but he was too exhausted to figure out what it was.

"I'm thinking chicken soup," Hagen said in that same tender tone, and Baxter pressed his eyes closed, allowing the tears to fall. "I've found that chicken soup always makes things better, don't you agree? When you're cold, feeling down or sick, chicken soup always gives you a little boost."

Hagen was gently rubbing his skin wherever he could reach it, and Baxter could feel himself warm up gradually. His feet were still chunks of ice, but the rest of his body was slowly reheating. His ass was still cold, and he realized Hagen's erection had gone down. He chuckled. Undoubtedly, it hadn't felt good to have his dick pressed against Baxter's freezing ass.

"What's so funny?" Hagen asked.

"Your dick," Baxter said, his filter apparently obliterated by his mental states. "You were hard but now I can't even feel you anymore."

Hagen's chest shook as he, too, laughed. "Your ass cheeks feel like ice cubes, not kidding," Hagen said with laughter in his voice. "You managed to shrink my package to the size of raisins."

Baxter mentally pictured the elegant, classy Hagen with raisins for balls, and he giggled, then giggled some more. Then for some reason, the giggles turned into sobs, and once he started crying, he couldn't stop. Hagen's arms tightened around him, then pressured him to turn around. And Baxter didn't hesitate, just turned on his other side and allowed Hagen to pull him close. And with his arms around Hagen's chest and his head against his shoulder, his nose buried in the man's chest hair, he fell apart.

He wasn’t sure how long he cried, only that he felt safe against that warm chest, and as his body started warming up, so did something inside him. Something that yearned, ached for the care that Hagen offered him.

Hagen. It hit him, that he’d been calling him Hagen in his head. Not Professor or St. Croix or Sir, but Hagen. What was that supposed to mean? God, why was everything so fucking complicated?

“You ready for that bath now?” Hagen asked, and Baxter sighed.

“Yes, Sir.”

The arms around him tightened for a moment. “You don’t have to call me that now, Baxter,” Hagen said softly.

Baxter pushed back against his chest until Hagen let him go and Baxter could lean back to see his face. “Because I’m fired and we’re no longer doing that?”

Hagen hesitated, then brushed a finger over Baxter’s cheek. “No, because it’s too formal now, too distant. But this is not a conversation we should have right now. Are you okay to table this till later, when you’re feeling better?”

Baxter bit his lip until Hagen tapped it with his finger. “Stop abusing that beautiful lip. What’s wrong? Talk to me, baby boy.”

“Why are you calling me that?” Baxter whispered.

“Do you mind?”

“No, but…”

That finger was placed on his lips. “Can you let it be for now? I have so much to tell you and to talk to you about, but not now. Can you trust me enough to wait?”

Baxter stared into those blue eyes, so warm and kind now, and felt himself falling. “Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I do trust you.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. Now, bath?”

Hagen looked at Baxter and he was glad the boy had his eyes closed, because there was no way he could hide the tenderness that he felt inside. He'd finally warmed up, after shivering so badly Hagen had been worried about hypothermia. To be safe, he hadn't allowed him to take a shower or bath, but had warmed him up with body-to-body contact first.

Now Baxter was up to his chin in a bath Hagen had drawn for him, adding some lovely smelling lavender salt to help him relax. Not that Baxter looked like he was having a problem relaxing, as his eyes had been closed since he'd stepped into the water. He wasn't asleep, but he was close to it, Hagen was certain. He'd better get some food into him before Baxter crashed.

His whole heart ached and throbbed with the force of his need to take care of Baxter. He'd never experienced this before, this deep, intense longing to be there for him, to take his worries away, to make sure he was healthy and fed and happy. When Baxter had cried, he’d felt his every tear stab his own heart, like he’d been hurting himself. He’d longed to wipe the tears away, to kiss him and make it all better, to say and do anything to take that heartbreaking pain away from his boy.

God, he wanted to be his Daddy like he’d never wanted anything else. When had that happened? When had he changed from a Dom into a Daddy? Not that the two weren't related, because they were, but he'd never been into that kind of thing. Then Bertrand’s remark came back to him, about him and Jake not being able to give each other what they had needed. Had he experienced this need even back then, but not recognized it?

It didn't matter, and yet Hagen wanted to find out at some point. But not now. Now, his focus was on making sure Baxter was okay. Having him in his home was a good start, but Hagen wasn't done by far yet. He'd barely been able to hold back a gasp when he'd seen Baxter naked. Granted, the fact that he'd been as cold as an icicle hadn't helped, but he was so thin, his ribs sticking out everywhere. It wasn't his natural build, not like this. No, he was malnourished, something Hagen intended to rectify.

"It's time for you to eat something," he told Baxter. "Can you get out by yourself or do you need my help?"

He’d gotten dressed himself again, mostly for practical reasons, but also because he didn't want to make Baxter feel uncomfortable. This wasn't about sex, not even close, and what a surprise that realization had been.

"Can't I stay in a little longer?" Baxter asked with a hint of a whine. "Can't I eat while I'm in the bath?"

Hagen smiled as he answered. "No. First of all, I'm not leaving you here by yourself while I make your food. You’re on the verge of falling asleep, and I can't risk you drowning in the bathtub. But secondly, we don't eat in the bathtub, at least, not meals. We eat in the dining room, so you'd better get your ass out of that tub and get dressed."

Baxter's eyes flew open. "I don't have clothes," he said after a brief hesitation.

"I know, but you can wear some of mine."

Baxter's teeth went for his lip, but one stern look from Hagen was enough to make him reconsider. "Okay," he said meekly, then added, "Can you hang around while I get out, just to be sure? I’m still a little woozy."

He proved the truth of that statement when he got up, as he wavered instantly. Hagen grabbed both his wrists and held on. "Baxter, tell me the truth, when was the last time you had a full meal?"

He hadn’t meant to ask it like this, not when he was so vulnerable, but it had slipped out. Baxter's eyes found his, and the shame and embarrassment were easy to see, so Hagen leaned in and kissed his forehead.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry for not seeing it. I'm sorry for being elitist and spoiled and privileged and not even considering what you were going through. I'm sorry I didn't feed you dinner while you cooked mine. I'm sorry for so many things Baxter, but I want to make it right. Will you please allow me to take care of you?"

Baxter stepped out of the tub as Hagen held onto his wrists, then wrapped a thick, fluffy bath towel around him as soon as he stood on solid ground. Baxter's eyes were moist as he looked at Hagen. "I usually grab food from the gas station when I work there, but because I was here, I missed two shifts this week. And I had to pay the insurance bill for my car, so I was short on money."

Hagen had to swallow back his anger, not at Baxter but at himself. "It's not your fault, baby boy. Let's go downstairs and eat, okay?"

Then Baxter leaned into him, seeking his embrace, and almost by themselves, Hagen's arms wrapped around him and pulled him close. It was such a heady feeling, experiencing this closeness between them that was far more than just their bodies.

"That chicken soup you waxed poetic about sounded good," Baxter said, and Hagen smiled.

"Chicken soup it is."

He helped Baxter get dressed in a pair of his sweatpants and a warm, thick hoodie. For extra warmth, he gave him a T-shirt as well and a pair of fleece-lined socks someone had once gifted him. He'd never worn them, as his feet were never cold, but they seemed to be perfect for this occasion.

He thanked his lucky stars for the portions of chicken soup in his freezer, left-overs from a large batch he'd made weeks ago and had frozen in individual portions. Heating it up was a matter of minutes, and Baxter's face as he took the first spoonful was more satisfying than Hagen could have imagined.

Baxter ate two bowls of soup, and Hagen wanted to offer him more, so much more, but Baxter shot him an apologetic look. "My stomach isn't used to large quantities of food anymore," he said softly. "I get nauseous when I eat too much too fast. It'll take time to readjust."

And Hagen? Hagen wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap and keep him safe and fed and healthy and loved. It was the strangest feeling, as surprising by its depth as in the object of its affection. But Hagen couldn't deny the truth. His heart wanted Baxter something fierce, no matter the fact that he was a student. Hagen knew resistance was futile. He wasn't even going to try. No, the only thing he needed to do was show Baxter how good they would be together.

Baxter seemed exhausted after eating, so Hagen nudged him to go upstairs. Without being asked, Baxter stripped down to the tight-fitting boxer briefs he'd borrowed from Hagen, a pair that had gotten into the dryer by accident and had shrunk too much to fit Hagen comfortably. They were perfect on Baxter, though. Baxter crawled back into Hagen's bed, and wasn't it wonderful to see him there?

"You sleep for as long as you want to," Hagen said. "Your body has been through a lot, so take all the rest you need, okay?"

He kissed him on his forehead and was about to turn around when Baxter grabbed his wrist. "Will you stay with me? At least till I fall asleep?"

As if Hagen could ever say no to that. He nodded, then quickly stripped down to his underwear and crawled into bed behind Baxter. He wrapped his arms around him, loving the way Baxter fit so perfectly in his big spoon.

"Go to sleep, baby boy. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

He felt Baxter relax, and in under a minute, his boy was asleep. Hagen waited fifteen minutes to make sure he was completely under, then slipped out of bed. He got dressed, rushed downstairs to make a large cup of tea for himself and grab a bottle of water, a book, and some nuts to snack on, then hurried back upstairs. As softly as he could, he dragged the reading chair in his bedroom so it was set up right next to the bed, then installed himself with his book and started reading.