-------------- Prologue --------------

The boy behind the counter hardly ever smiled. It was one of the first
things that John noticed about him. But when he did, it was like the
whole place lit up, and everyone's life got a little brighter. It was
why he stopped by the drug store every day between classes to get
something to drink, just on the off-chance that he might get to see
one of those disarming smiles.

"Thank you, have a good day."

It was always that same line, you were lucky if he said more than that
and perhaps the price of what you'd bought. And then you were
disregarded as he moved on to the next customer, his disaffected stare
seemingly forgetting you as soon as you left the checkout counter. But
John knew better than that, after coming here day after day for a few
weeks in a row. The boy behind the counter recognized him every time
he came into the store. And while he barely got to see that smile,
that recognition was something he got to see every day, and it
thrilled him.

He'd decided, when he first saw the boy behind the counter, that he
wanted to be his friend. And the more he came here, the more that urge
grew, because every visit he got to know him a little better. He was
quiet, but he was never afraid to speak his mind. And when he did, he
often had something witty or intelligent to say, something you
wouldn't expect from such a quiet and timid boy. Something that let
you know loud and clear that he wasn't just another pretty face.

And pretty he was. Tall, dark, and handsome was an expression that
came to mind.. thick brown hair, full lips, olive skin, and a pair of
brown eyes so deep you could only imagine what kind of a soul was
hidden behind them. But John didn't want to imagine, he wanted to
know. Because he wanted to know this boy, this quiet, clever, pretty
boy behind the counter.

-------------------------------

To be continued...

Today was going to be the day. John had decided that as soon as he’d woken up that morning and gotten ready for daily classes at Chicago University. Thought about it in the shower, while he was changing, as he ate breakfast, drove to school. During his lunch hour, he’d go into the drug store and talk to him. *Really* talk to him, make conversation, make plans. They’d go out somewhere together, maybe eat dinner at a restaurant, and the next day they’d see a movie. And before he’d know it, the boy behind the counter would be his friend.


Except that was what he told himself every morning. He knew, during the course of the day, he’d build his confidence and muster up courage, but as soon as it was his turn in line the only thing he would say was a polite hello and then he’d pay for his bottle of water and leave, feeling dejected and like a complete loser.

But today was different. Today was going to be the day. He was almost sure of it. And as his turn in line came around and he gave the boy behind the counter his water, he took a deep breath and…

“Hello.” Damn it! He wasn’t supposed to say that!

“Dollar seven, please.” And he definitely wasn’t supposed to say *that*. They were supposed to be talking. They were supposed to be having a conversation. Except they weren’t, and the only thing John could do was hand over the money. “Thank you, have a good day.”
“You too,” he said, dejectedly, feeling like a complete loser as he stepped away from the counter. He began walking to the door, sighing heavily when he heard something. He turned quickly, his brow furrowed. “What?”

“I said, see you tomorrow.”

And then the boy behind the counter smiled. At him. At John. Right *at* him. No one else. *Him*. But before John could even react, the boy was turning to the next customer in line, his smile gone, along with his voice. Because he rarely smiled, and he rarely spoke. Unless he wanted to. And John smiled too, as he left the store. Because they boy behind the counter wanted to smile at him. He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to be friends with him.

Tomorrow would be the day, he decided. Because tomorrow was, without a doubt, most definitely different.

Today was going to be the day. Yes, he’d said that every single morning as soon as he woke up since he’d seen the boy behind the counter, but today was different. Okay, so he’d said that before too, but it was really different this time. Because the boy behind the counter had spoken to him. And smiled at him. And he didn’t do that to just anyone, only to John. All right, so he didn’t really know that for sure, but he liked to think so.

So as he walked from the refrigerators in the back of the store to the front, holding his bottle of water more than a little tightly in anticipation, he practiced in his head just what he would say. He’d been doing that since before he’d risen from bed this morning, and by now it was perfected. He’d say a suave hello, and ask him how he was doing. Then the boy behind the counter would do the same, and he’d tell him he was great. He’d mention this party at his grandparent’s house this weekend, and invite the boy to come, who would immediately say yes and ask when to be ready by. It wasn’t complicated, just simple conversation, and once it was over the boy behind the counter would be his friend.

Except once he reached the front of the store, there was a different boy behind the counter. A younger one, probably sixteen, smiling brightly and talking the day away with each customer. Panic almost immediately overtook all of John’s senses. What if he’d quit? Before John ever got the chance to talk to him?? He mentally kicked himself, knowing he’d had several chances to talk to him, he’d just never had the guts. And now the boy was gone, lost in a huge city amongst thousands of other people, never to be seen by John again. How could he have let this happen??


“Can I help you?” John glanced up at the different boy, whose sweet smile was making him sick. “Sir?”


“Uh…I forgot something,” he replied, quickly turning to leave the store when he saw him: the boy behind the counter, standing before a shelf at the end of the store and haphazardly placing bags of candy onto it. He didn’t even try to be nonchalant as he moved to him, although he managed to regain his composure by the time he got there, pretending to look through the candy. “Hi.”


The boy looked up. “Hey.” And then he was stocking the shelf again, hardly giving him a second glance. But John had seen that look of recognition in his eyes, the same one he got to see every day.


“What am I supposed to call you now?” he blurted out, without even thinking.


The boy looked up again, confusion crossing his features. “Huh?”


“I used to…” John trailed off, realizing just what he’d asked and what he was about to say. But today was different, today he was going to make this boy his friend. And he smiled confidently. “I used to call you the boy behind the counter. But you don’t work there anymore, so now what am I supposed to call you?”


The boy shrugged, turned back to the candy…not exactly the answer John was looking for. But then, quietly: “You can call me Dave.”


“Dave?” he asked, rhetorically. “That’s a nice name.”


Another shrug. “I didn’t choose it.”


“I’m John,” he said, knowing the boy – knowing *Dave* would never ask. It thrilled him to know the boy’s name, in a way he’d never felt before. And he wanted to think and say it as much as possible. “I thought you’d quit for a minute, until I saw you over here.”


“Nope,” he said. “You’re stuck with me for a while.”'

John smiled, could’ve sworn he saw Dave do the same but the boy turned away to quickly for him to notice. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Dave.”

“See you tomorrow…John.”

And John kept his smile all the way to the checkout counter, all while the new boy behind the counter rang him up, and as he went back into his Jeep and back to class. Because he’d made a new friend today. A new friend whose name was Dave. And John couldn’t wait to find out everything else about him, because a name was only the beginning.

The next day, John found him in the health food aisle, writing down prices on granola bars. He watched him for a minute, studied his posture, his figure, his behavior. He'd noticed before that he furrowed his brow when he concentrated, and that he tended to frown when he was really thinking. But all he was doing was changing prices from a set list, surely he had to be thinking about something else besides just that. Briefly, John wondered just what it was.

"Hi."

Dave glanced up, didn't look the least bit surprised. "Hey. Need help with something?"
"Uh.. yeah, actually," he said, stepping closer to the boy, passing the bottle of water between his hands. He'd forgotten, on his last visit, to ask Dave to come to that party at his gamma's -- used it as an excuse to talk to him again. Although, really, he would've done so anyway. "I was wondering if, um.. if, well, you know, if you wanted to.. if, uh.. "

The boy turned away, placing the candy bars on the shelf. John had also noticed that he tended to do that too, supposedly because he lost interest in things easily, although he wasn't too sure if he just pretended to just yet. But, just in case, he had to say something, and he had to say something quick. But suddenly it was hard for him to say anything at all! Why couldn't he just ask Dave to go to the party, it wasn't as if he were asking him out on a date..

"I was wondering if, maybe, you'd, uh, if you want to.. "

"I'd.. ?"
"Help me find.. something.. for.. someone," he blurted out in choppy sentences, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at his own ridiculousness. He sighed to himself, knowing that now that he'd said that, he couldn't go back to what he'd wanted to say. Quick, make something up! "It's for someone that I'm.. interested in. I wanted to get them something.. nice."
"I'm marking down these granola bars."

John paused, not really sure what to say to that. "I was hoping for something a little more.. impressive."

Dave flashed a grin, and John felt a thrill go through him. The boy -- well, the former boy behind the counter -- thought he was funny!
"What about.. chocolate?" he suggested, shrugging as he turned back to re-pricing the bars.
"What about it?"
"Well, it's.. it's sweet, you know?" he asked rhetorically, turning to look at John with those deep eyes. "And it sorta shows that you're interested without bein' too.. pushy. You know what I mean? Get some chocolate, see what happens."

"Chocolate," John repeated, nodding once. "Thanks, Dave. I'll try that. And I'll see you tomorrow."

"See ya."
John turned, heading to the checkout counter and putting his bottle of water on the counter. The different boy behind the counter smiled cheerily, asking: "Is that everything?"
"Yep," he replied, but then suddenly looked up. "You know what? I forgot something." He turned, before glancing back with a smile. "Where do you keep the chocolate?"

He hadn't seen him for days. He didn't know where he'd gone, didn't
want to ask in fear of what the answer might be. Did he quit? Did he
get fired? Did he die?? John didn't even want to consider the last
question as a possibility, although the fluttering in his chest every
time he thought about it let him know otherwise.

He continued to go to the store every day in hopes that one of these
trips he'd find him there, around the store doing something mundane or
maybe even behind the counter again. But even if he did see him, would
Dave want to talk to him?? He must've gotten the single chocolate bar
that John had carefully laid on the seat of his bike that was always
parked in the front of the store. Maybe that was it, he considered.
Maybe he'd gotten the candy bar and never wanted to see John again.

Of course that was it. Jesus, why hadn't he thought of that before??
Dave wasn't some kind of fag, he didn't like other guys. Well.. then
again, neither did John. He didn't even know why he'd done it, it's
just been an impulse. Or maybe an instinct? He pushed that thought
aside quickly. It'd been a joke. That's what it'd been. One huge
stupid fucking joke.

And one huge stupid fucking mistake.

On that Wednesday, exactly five days since he'd seen Dave, he went to
the store and finally mustered up the courage to ask. "What ever
happened to that other guy that used to work here??"

"Who? Dave??" the other boy behind the counter asked, the one that was
too cheery and so nice it made John sick. "He switched shifts. Now he
works at night."

"Does your manager switch you guys around a lot?"

"No," was the reply. "He likes to keep everything the same. But Dave
wanted to change, so I guess he let him. Dave's a good worker, so
nobody really minds."

"Oh.. " John said, smiling weakly. "Okay. Thanks."

"Have a good day."

"Right."

He moved to the exit, left the store. Got into his Jeep and began to
drive away for what he knew would be the last time. Because he wasn't
going to come back, not tomorrow, not the next day, not next week, not
ever. Not when there wasn't any point. This was his fault, and he knew
it. But he wasn't going to cry, he wasn't. He wasn't going to shout or
curse. He was going to take this like a man, and learn from his
mistake. Learn from his huge stupid fucking mistake, and never return
to the store again.

It took him a week to stop feeling sorry for himself. An entire week
wasted moping around and ditching classes, staying in bed all day and
sleeping. He was beginning to worry his grandparents, he knew, but he
didn't start worrying himself until the crying started. Why was he
crying? It wasn't as if Dave was his *boyfriend*, for Christ's sake.
They'd barely been friends, and John was disappointed when the kid
didn't respond to his come-on the way he wanted?

Yeah.. lying in bed for nearly seven days, he'd gotten over the fact
that he liked another guy pretty quickly. He didn't think he was gay
or anything, it was just that this kid.. Dave.. there was just
something about him that compelled John to want to be with him, to
want to figure him out and know everything about him, mentally,
emotionally, *and* physically. He wanted to know what he did in his
spare time, what his passion was.. passion.. he wanted to feel that
passion, wanted to feel it on his lips and fingertips and..

It took him another two days to get out of bed, shower, and return to
normalcy. Another day to go back to school. Three spent catching up on
work missed. Two working on assuring his family he was fine. Another
five before he went back to the store. At night. Wondering if Dave was
going to be there, knowing it with such finality he could've sworn he
was psychic.

He got his bottle of water from the back of the store, managed to
circle the whole place more than a dozen times before he worked up the
courage to go to the front counter. And there he was, ringing up a
customer, looking more serious than ever. Did he miss John too? Did he
wish maybe he'd given John a chance? Well.. there was only one way to
find out, John mused, as he began walking towards the counter.

Dave immediately spotted him, quickly averted his eyes as he rang him
up, almost pretended not to know him. John smirked, more determined
than ever to befriend this boy.. to become more than just friends with
this boy.

"They didn't like it."

"Excuse me?" Dave asked, confusion crossing his face.

"The person I gave the chocolate to," he continued, casually, as if it
wasn't nearly as complicated as it really was. "Must've thought it
*was* too pushy."

"Look, John.. "

"So you *do* remember who I am."

"John, I'm.. sorry.. " he went on, ignoring the sarcastic remark. The
boy kept his hand on the bottle of water, firmly, and John wondered if
it was a nervous habit. He let out a deep breath, and John could
almost see the thoughts running through his head. "It's just.. I
don't.. do.. that."

"That?"

"Yes," he clarified, nodding. "I don't do that. I don't.. date guys. I
like women."

"Oh," John said, as if in agreement or understanding. He could see the
confusion in Dave's eyes. "I see. So you don't want to go to this
party my grandmother's having?"

"I.. " he almost seemed speechless, as if the whole situation was
ridiculous. "I don't.. know. Would it be a date?"

"Oh, no, no," John assured him, shaking his head. "There's really
going to be no one there my age, and I'd just like some company."

"Well.. okay. I guess.. "

"Great," John said, and then gave Dave the address, who wrote it down
on the back of John's receipt and slipped it into the pocket of his
jeans. He grabbed his water, stepped away from the counter.. winked.
"Then it's a date."

"Wait!" Dave called, but John was already walking to the door. "You
just said it wasn't!"

"I'll see you at eight o'clock Saturday!"

"John!!" he heard, even as he was leaving. "It's not a date!!"

"We'll see about that," he said to himself, smiling as he climbed into
his Jeep. He suddenly couldn't hold in his excitement anymore as he
punched the air in victory. Because he had a date with the boy of his
dreams, with the boy behind the counter.

John stood in the foyer to his grandmother's mansion, pacing nervously
back and forth, back and forth.. he only paused in his wake to peek
out the window every now and then. Wringing his hands nervously, he
glanced into the adjoining living room, turned, crossed the hall,
peered into the sitting room, turned, crossed the hall.. over and
over, wringing his hands, running his fingers through his hair,
pulling at the collar of his button-down shirt..

The real test had arrived, and it was making him nervous as Hell.
Because today was the day he would know whether or not the boy behind
the counter wanted to be with him. It was a simple test really.. if he
shows up, he's interested. And if he doesn't.. well, then..

"John?" He turned so fast in surprise that he nearly slipped and fell.
Gamma smiled good-naturedly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I
just wanted to let you know that we've started dessert, and we'd like
you to join us. That is, if you're finished pacing."

"I'm not pacing," he insisted, shaking his head vehemently. "I'm just
waiting for a friend to arrive."

"A *girl*friend?" she asked, a hint of a smile on her lips. "The same
one that kept you in bed for that whole week, perhaps?"

"No, no," he responded, glancing out the window once more. "It's a
boyfriend. I mean, a boy who's a friend.. I'm just waiting for him."

"It's nice of you to invite a friend," she said, coming up beside him
and joining him in looking outside. "But can I remind you that you've
been waiting for over an hour?"

"I have??" he asked, turning to her in surprise. He knew that it'd
felt like an eternity since eight o'clock, but he hadn't really
expected that much time to have passed by now. And a glance at the
clock showed him that his grandmother was very right. "Oh.. I didn't
realize.. um.. yeah, I.. guess I'll come back now.. "

"All right," she said, and laced her arm in his as she began to lead
him into the dining hall.

Well.. he guessed he'd gotten his answer now. And he felt his heart
flop into his stomach as he slowed in his walk until he actually
stopped, his appetite gone along with his anxiety. "You know what? I'm
not feeling that well right now.. I think I'll just go upstairs and
retire for the night."

"John," she began, and he could see that look on her face that let him
know he was about to be royally chastised. "You've been acting so -- "

And there it was. The doorbell, ringing out so loud John could've
sworn the neighbors heard it, and the closest ones they had was about
a half of a mile away. He smiled broadly, pulling out of his
grandmother's grasp and rushing to the door, unable to hide his
excitement even if he wanted to. He could hear Gamma behind him,
questioning his sanity as he pulled open the door with a flourish.

"Hi," said the boy behind the counter, said Dave, looking quite
handsome in a chunky blue sweater and khakis. He must've seen John's
eyes travel, as he indicated his own outfit. "I hope I dressed okay..
this was the nicest thing I had."

"No, no, you look great," he blurted out, and immediately felt the
heat rise in his cheeks. "I mean, you dressed fine. It's great."

"Good," Dave said, nodding slightly. "Uh, so.. can I come in? Or is
the party on the front steps?"

"Oh, no, come in," John said, smiling warmly as he moved over to allow
Dave passage. He closed the door, then stood beside his Gamma, who was
watching intently, curiosity in her eyes. "Gamma, this is Dave. Dave,
this is my Gamma."

"Pleasure to meet you," she said, extending her hand, and he shook it
firmly, looking her right in the eyes. "John failed to mention you
were coming until the last minute."

"Oh," Dave said, glancing between the two of them. He took a step
back. "If it's any trouble, I can go. I mean, you know.. it's no
problem. I took a cab here, I can take one back."

"By all means, stay," she stated, after John nearly had a freaking
heart attack. If his grandmother kicked Dave out his chance would've
gone with him -- whatever little chance he had, that is. "Dessert's
just started, however late it may be. But these events are always that
way, I suppose."

"Yeah," Dave replied, nodding with a smile as Millicent turned and
began to walk back towards the dining hall. The boy glanced at John,
whispered, "I wouldn't know."

John flashed a grin. "That's okay. I hate these things anyway. It's
all about gossip anyway: What corporation's doing what, who's being
hired for what job.. who's dating who."

"Whom."

"What?" John asked, puzzled as they began walking down the hall together.

"It's whom," he clarififed, glancing at John. "Who's dating whom."

"Right," John replied, as if he'd realized his mistake. Did Dave go to
school, he suddenly wondered? He wanted to ask, but now wasn't the
time as they entered the dining hall, filled with at least
fifty-people at several different tables. He heard Dave curse softly
in surprise. "Don't worry," he whispered into the boy's ear, over the
loud roucous in the room. "It's not as overwhelming as it seems."

"I hope not," he stated, glancing at John with raised eyebrows. "Where
should we sit?"

We. John like the sound of that, and he found himself smiling as he
took Dave by the elbow and led him towards a table. "Right over here.
Get ready for a ton of political bullshit."

"I can't wait," he said, and actually sounded excited. He suddenly
flashed a grin. "Bullshit is my specialty."

It started when John dropped his fork and accidentally brushed his
fingers against Dave's leg retrieving it. The boy startled so badly
his knee jerked up against the bottom of the table, banging loudly and
clattering the dishes on top. He blushed profusely, glancing at the
other members of the table and apologizing softly, all the while his
eyes averting John's.

How could you be so stupid?? John wondered to himself, thinking that
maybe if he'd been a little more careful he wouldn't have done that.
Dave was finally here, and now he was going to scare him off by making
a move in front of his grandparents and aunts and uncles and..

But then fingertips were brushing against his own leg. And he startled
so badly his knee jerked up and banged loudly against the bottom of
the table. It was his turn to apologize with embarassment, but he
didn't avert his eyes. He glanced at Dave, who was doing his best to
compress his smile.

"You started it," came the whisper, a few moments later. Yes.. yes, he
had, however much by accident it may have been.

"So it's my turn again?" he asked, and briefly met Dave's eye, but the
boy only turned away at the call of his name. His grandmother, asking
what he thought of the mansion. She'd just gotten it renovated and
John knew lately she'd been asking every living being lately what he
or she thought.

"It's, uh, you know, really.. beau -- uh.. gorgeous," he replied, and
now John was compressing his smile, his fingers trailing up Dave's
leg, who was doing his best not to react to his touch, but it really
wasn't working. Further, closer.. "The, uh.. colors and.. stuff.. it's
really -- " Between the boy's legs, his palm rested, finding that warm
heat even through the material of his pants. And Dave gasped audibly,
but quickly recovered with a rather loud: "Perfect! I mean, it's uh..
it's perfect."

He turned away from Gamma, glancing at John rather incredulously, but
his expression softened. And then everything just.. stopped.. as they
sat there, looking into each other's eyes. John had never really
realized just how beautiful Dave's eyes were.. a light brown, but yet
so deep..

"Excuse me, gentlemen?" John snapped his attention away from his
friend and to his grandmother, who was watching with curious eyes. She
indicated behind them, back towards the rest of the mansion. "I'm sure
to you two, this is excrutiatingly boring.. would you like to adjourn
to the house?"

John saw Dave glance at him from the corner of his eye as he nodded
with a smile at his Gamma. "Sure. That sounds great. Come on, Dave,
I'll show you the rest of the house."

"Be sure to show him the Greatroom!" she announced, as they stood and
smiled politely at the other family members and friends. "It's my
favorite room in the entire house."

"House," Dave scoffed, once they were out of earshot. "If this is a
house, I don't want to know what she'd call my apartment."

"You live by yourself?" John asked, as he began to lead Dave towards
the Greatroom, which was considerably far from the dining hall.
Briefly, he wondered if that was the reason why it was suggested.

"No," he replied, and didn't pursue the thought. "How far away is this
room?"

"It's right over here," John stated, before briefly looking at his
friend. "You're.. different when you're not at work."

"So are you." John was surprised by the reply, but he didn't have a
chance to further the conversation because Dave was speaking up again.
"Is this the room?"

"Yep," he said, indicating the large room with emerald greens and
blacks and browns, coordinated furniture and a big-screen television
(and stereo), animals' heads mounted on the walls and real plants here
and there. "This is my grandmother's favorite room, but only because
she did it up like this for my grandpa, and he loves it."

He could tell Dave didn't like it. "It's.. "

"Yeah." They broke into grins, and John could've sworn the dark room
just got ten times brighter at the sight of Dave's. There was a
painting on the wall, one of John when he was smaller, along with his
brother. Dave approached it, pointed to it while glancing at John. "Is
that you? And who's the other kid?"

"My brother," John replied, quietly. "He's dead."

"My mother's dead," Dave announced, so casually John was surprised. He
wondered if Dave really was as disaffected as he always seemed to be,
wanted to know how he dealt with it so he could deal with Bobby's
death too. He almost asked, before Dave was talking again. It was also
a bit surprising to see how much Dave spoke while they weren't at the
drug store. "It's a cute picture. Did your grandmother paint it or
something?"

"No, no, it was professionally done," John told him, coming up to
stand behind him. He dared to ask, although his tone could be mistaken
for a joking manner, "You think I'm cute?"

"Yeah," Dave said, without taking his eyes off of the painting. He
reached out and touched it, for no other reason it seemed than to make
sure it was really a painting, and then glanced around the room, his
eyes eventually landing on John. They were right next to each other,
so close John could reach out and kiss him if he wanted to.

So he did.

His heart nearly lept out of his chest as his lips touched Dave's, and
he was somehow surprised by how soft they were.. by how perfectly they
fit against his. He was even more surprised, however, when he felt
Dave kissing him back, actually kissing him back!! He could hardly
believe it, and he never wanted the kiss to end although after a while
he needed to take a breather. Still, he hesitantly pulled away, looked
into Dave's eyes.

And there it was. Another one of those beautiful smiles. "Wow," the
boy said, breathing as deeply as John. "This *is* a great room."

"Want to make it really great?" John asked.

His only response was another smile, and another kiss.

They spent the next few weeks together as much as they could, although
between John's classes during the day and Dave's shifts at the drug
store at night, it was hard to see one another. They'd fallen into a
sort of rhythm: John would finish class at three o'clock, stop by
Dave's house and pick him up, they'd spend an hour together, and then
John would drop him off at work. At night, he'd pick him up, and
they'd spend another hour together before he dropped Dave off at home.
It was a nice rhythm, one that John wouldn't give up for the world,
even if all his gas money was going out the window, and maybe his
family was starting to wonder where he disapppeared to twice a day.

They were inside his Jeep now, outside of an abandoned drive-in
theater, parked in front of the big, torn screen. The radio station
still played old movies, and every time they came here, John half
expected the place to come to life. He'd never been here before he met
Dave, but the boy had showed it to him a week after meeting him. He'd
told him it was his favorite spot, because he could always come here
to be alone. And alone was right. John was sure there wasn't another
person anywhere near this place.

They kissed here, more often than not. It was one of the only places
where they did, one of the only reasons it held a special place in
John's heart. They were kissing now, of course, Dave leaning back
against the door, John against him. One of Dave's hands was at the
back of John's neck, posessively, the other at the small of his back.
He rarely moved his hands when they did this, although John wanted to
know every plane and curve of Dave's body. Except every time he tried
to slip his hands under Dave's shirt, or reach for Dave's pants, the
boy would pull away without a word. Just like he was doing know, John
thought with exasperation, leaning back in his seat heavily, his
movements showing his irritation.

"Why won't you let me touch you?" he asked, looking into Dave's eye,
who was still sitting back against the door, sideways in the front
seat. "Every time I try you stop me."

"I don't know." Dave never really seemed to know much when it came to
things he didn't want to talk about, which was pretty much everything.
John shot him a look, causing the boy to avert his eyes. "I just..
don't.. want you to."

"Why not? And please don't tell me you don't know. There has to be a
reason, Dave."

"It's just.. I.. " He paused, pursing his lips several times. "It's..
I'm not.. it's.. I don't want you to see.. me."

"I don't understand."

"You can't."

"I can't what?" he asked, turning so that he was facing Dave. "I can't
understand?" He nodded. "Try me."

"John.. "

*"Don't you sometimes wonder if it's worth all this? I mean what
you're fighting for."*

"Please?" he pleaded quietly, moving close to Dave again. The boy
didn't move, just remained there, quiet, still, allowed John to trail
his hand down his chest and to the hem of his shirt, long fingers
slipping underneath the material to find warm skin. He wasn't
flinching, so John assumed he couldn't be afraid.. but he was tense,
John could feel the taught muscles underneath his smooth skin..

.. not so smooth skin.

Wordlessly, John pushed up his shirt, finding a long, deep scar. A
surgical scar. He glanced up at Dave, who was currently finding the
dashboard much more interesting. Further up, he pushed the shirt,
discovering discolored skin, purples, blues and yellows, marring the
perfect olive skin. He looked up at his friend, curious and horrified,
worried and absolutely distraught. "What is this?"

*You might as well question why we breathe. If we stop breathing,
we'll die. If we stop fighting our enemies, the world will die."*

"I told you.. " was the quiet reply. "I told you you wouldn't understand."

"Make me understand," he said, almost urgently. "Who does this to you,
Dave? Is it.. who lives with you? A family member? Your roommate?
Some.. someone else? Your boss?? Dave, I -- "

"It's my old man," the boy nearly spat, and for the first time he saw
anger in those gentle eyes. "He just.. we get into fights a lot. He's
just under a lot of stress. It's not a big deal, we just fight a lot.
I just have a big mouth."

*"Well, what of it? It'll be out of its misery."*

"Dave, you.. " John was apalled. He didn't know what to say, or to
do.. he could only keep looking at the bruised flesh, the permanently
scarred flesh. "You can't justify this.. this is.. it's.. "

"It's nothing," he told him, pulling down his shirt. "It's nothing.
I'm fine."

*"You know how you sound, Mr. Blaine? Like a man who's trying to
convince himself of something he doesn't believe in his heart."*

"Dave, you can't go back there."

"I don't need you to save me," he said, almost seemingly irritated. "I
told you, I'm fine."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Move out!" John nearly yelled, suddenly excited. "You can move in
with me. Or we can find a place together, and -- "

"Come on, John," was the sighed reply he recieved. "I don't have that
kind of money. Besides, he'd kill me if I even tried it."

"How is that a way to live??" John asked, angry now, but not at Dave.
"You can't live like that."

"I can, and I do," he stated. He looked at John, desperate eyes
meeting his own. "Please, let's not talk about this. I don't want to.
Look, I gave you what you wanted, so let's just.. drop it. Please?"

"Okay," he replied softly. "But.. maybe tonight.. do you want to stay
at my house?"

He shrugged. "I guess so."

"Good," John said. He smiled, reassuringly, and saw Dave's eyes light
up in return.. it was how he smiled most of the time, not with his
mouth but with his eyes.. those captivating, deep eyes that held more
secrets than John would ever know. He reached out, touching Dave's
hand, who responded and pulled him forward, close to him.

He felt, as they looked into each other's eyes, like he should say
something but he didn't know what, so he remained quiet. Dave did the
same. And, as the boy grasped John's shirt and pulled him even closer,
the silence was filled with a kiss.

--------------------------------

Notes: Movie dialogue from "Casablanca"

John had a friend named Tom in a genetics class, a muscled, vivacious
blonde who seemed more suited to be a surfer than a doctor. Tom, in
turn, had a friend named Josh, who was more than just a friend and
everybody knew it. And as John approached Tom after class and began
chatting, he was suddenly nervous. Tom must've picked up on it because
soon he was asking what John's problem was.

"It's just.. well," John stammered, pausing in his walk and pulling
Tom aside. "You're.. I mean.. with Josh?"

"Yeah," he replied, narrowing his eyes. "You mean you didn't know?"

"No, no, I knew," he stated, nodding vigorously. He shifted his
weight, his eyes averting to the psychology building nearby, studying
the vines crawling up the side in intricate patterns. "It's just.. I
mean, I just.. " Just ask! the voice in his head yelled, and he took a
deep breath, letting it out in one burst as he said: "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know.. it."

The surfer-slash-doctor smiled. "Where is this coming from?"

"I just want to know, okay??"

"No straight guy 'just wants to know.'" John scowled, ready to smack
that shit-eating grin right off of his face. "You're gay, aren't you?"

"I am not!" John exclaimed, drawing the eyes of several passing
students. "I'm not," he repeated, more quietly. "It's just.. I'm sort
of.. involved with this guy."

"So in other words.. you're gay."

"Are you gonna help me out here or not??"

--------------------------------

John made sure his room looked clean and neat as Dave waited in the
hallway for the word to come in. He was spending the night tonight,
one of the reasons John had asked Tom about gay sex. It was a little..
overwhelming, all of the steps. Definitely *not* like how it was with
a woman, there was no wham, bam, thank you, ma'am here. No, this was
complicated stuff. Somebody could get hurt! And he was nervous as hell.

"Okay," he called, and Dave stepped inside, glancing around.

"You sure your grandma doesn't mind me in here?"

"Nah, she thinks we're just gonna stay up watching television or
playing video games or something," he told him, closing the door
behind Dave.

"What *will* we be doing?" he asked, looking right into John's eyes.
He seemed wary, his posture showing he was hesitant to move, as was
the tight grip on his duffel bag

"Nothing!" he exclaimed quickly, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to
imply.. that. Sorry. I just meant.. well, you know."

Shit! he screamed mentally, kicking himself. He hadn't even considered
that maybe Dave wasn't ready for that, or that maybe he didn't even
*want* to do that. Hell, he didn't even know if Dave cared about him
at all, or if he was just some walk on the wild side.

But the way those eyes watched him, almost studied him.. the way those
hands touched him, gently as if he might break.. the way those lips
found his, kissing him tenderly.. if that wasn't worth anything, then
John didn't know what was.

"If you want to, you know.. sleep in another room," John suggested
quietly, his eyes averted to the floor.

"I want to be here," was the reply he recieved. He glanced up, but
Dave was putting his things down on the couch at the foot of his bed
before shrugging out of his jacket and sitting down, toeing off his
shoes as if he'd lived here all his life. "I don't have a couch in my
room. Or a TV."

"You can have mine, if you want," he said, sitting down next to Dave,
close but not too close, because he didn't want to scare him. "I can
get new ones."

"Nah." Silence, for a few moments, before Dave spoke up again,
glancing sideways at John, that mischevous glint in his eyes he knew.
"I don't have one of these either," he stated, his hand trailing to
John's thigh, fingertips tracing patterns.

"You can have me.. if you want."

He nodded, silently, moving closer to John, leaning forward and
touching the side of his face with gentle fingers. "I think I'd like
that."

"Are you sure?" John asked, although every cell in his body was
screaming to just go with it and keep his mouth shut. But he wasn't
about to do anything that Dave might regret later. "I mean, because we
could just.. watch TV and play video games."

"No, no," Dave whispered so quietly John could barely hear him. He met
John's eye, his own so deep and full of such.. fire. More alive than
John had ever seen them, and he felt a thrill go through him over the
fact that he was responsible for it. "I want this."

"Good," John replied, just as quietly, right before their lips met.

It was warm.

Summer had come and was now on it's way out, but cool weather had yet
to make an appearance. The two boys hadn't hesitated to take advantage
of the heat, and so they sat beside one another, their thighs touching
as their bare feet dipped into the refreshingly cool water of the
lake. They spent their days together, as many as they could, and with
John currently on summer break, that meant nearly every day. But
despite the weather still being unbearingly hot, school was still
right around the corner. Their fun would soon have to end.

"School's starting soon," he stated, looking at Dave, the golden glow
from the setting sun making the boy almost seem like some beautiful,
mythical creature. "I'll be going during the day, and you'll be
working at night.. we won't be able to see each other much."

"Fucking manager won't let me switch back to days," Dave murmured
almost absently, as he picked apart a cattail, tossing peices into the
lake. "There's always weekends."

The boy was just as mysterious as ever.. John still didn't know much
about him, except that he lived with his abusive father, he'd
graduated high school but didn't go to college (and he only knew this
because Dave never went, the boy had never actually told him), and
maybe a few other tidbits here and there. Nothing specific was ever
said, but John wasn't sure why. Maybe Dave didn't like talking about
himself. Maybe it just didn't matter. He was pretty sure it was a mix
of both. The boy still had that air of disinterest in everything he
did, even his movements had the same laziness of a cat. It was
somehow.. enchanting. It was what had drawn John to this boy in the
first place. But it was still disconcerting. Didn't Dave care about
anything? Did Dave even care about him??

"Weekends would work," John stated. "And you don't work every day, do
you?"

"I'm full time there," he stated. "I work five days a week."

He hesitated. "Don't you want to go to school?"

"I've been to school."

"But not college."

"Nope."

"Why not?" he asked. "A career at Mike's is what you've always dreamt of?"

"I like it there," he said, shrugging. Then, almost quietly:
"Besides.. I'm not good at anything."

"There's got to be something you like," he suggested. "Some hobby,
or.. an interest? Maybe you saw something on television and.. I don't
know. There isn't anything that you just think about?"

"Well.. you're being a doctor, right?"

"Yeah," John replied, nodding. "You liked those books I gave you. The
ones from last year, that I didn't need anymore."

"Yeah."

It almost seemed as if that was going to be the end of the
conversation. It was always like that with Dave, you never knew when
he was just going to drop the subject without further discussion. It
never bothered John, it only added to Dave's uniqueness, but this was
one conversation he wanted to have. Dave's future was important, if
not to Dave than to *him*.

"Dave. You can't just work at the drug store for the rest of your
life," John stated, exasperated. "Did you like the books? Enough to
maybe want to get into science or something?"

"I don't know," Dave said, shrugging. "I told you. I'm not good at
anything."

"How do you know you aren't good at *this*??" John asked, getting
enthused about helping Dave with school, with the rest of his life.
"Why don't you go to college? I could help you get in. I'm sure my
family would love to recommend you, they -- "

"They don't like me."

"They do too!" Dave pulled a face. "My Gamma likes you!"

"Your Gamma hates me."

"She does not," John said, but knew it was pretty true. Hate might've
been a strong word, but she just didn't get why John liked to spend
time with Dave. Sure, she just throught they were friends, but even so
she could hardly stand seeing him with a going-nowhere type of guy
like Dave. "She just doesn't know you. And even if she doesn't like
you, she'd still help you out because I wanted it."

"And I'm just supposed to get a scholarship to some place based on..
?" he asked, his eyebrows raised. "I don't have the money for it."

"Student loans!" John exclaimed. "You can pay them back gradually. My
Gamma could help you get those too."

"I don't know," Dave replied, shrugging, but John could see the idea
mulling around in his head. "I'll think about it, okay?"

"That's all I ask." Dave nodded at the response, before pulling off
his shirt in one fluid movement and sliding off of the dock and into
the water. He sprang up from underneath it, flicking the hair out of
his face and splashing at John. "How is it?" John asked.

"Freezing," Dave replied, and John was about to tell him he'd be fine
on the dock when the boy began splashing water at him, and in moments
he was drenched. "Want to come in now?"

"I didn't even have my shirt off!"

"Mine's wet too," he said, indicating his own beside John that had
gotten soaked in the process. "Come on, it's not that bad. Don't be a
little girl."

"Oh, that's it," John said, standing up and getting ready to dive in.
"You'd better start swimming."

"I'm shaking with fear."

He dove into the water with a smile, his arms wrapping around Dave's
waist and bringing him under. He could hear laughter through the
water, his own along with Dave's, and soon they were wrestling. Soon,
they were kissing. Soon, they were making love on the sand, hidden
beneath the dock, fucking slowly, feeling the end of summer and the
end of their time together and wanting to make it last as long as
possible. And when it was over they lay side by side, catching their
breath.

Dave said it first. "I love you."

And John said it next, without hesitance, as if they'd exchanged these
words their entire life. "I love you too."

They glanced at each other and smiled.

"I still won," Dave said.

"What? The wrestling match? I don't think so."

"I dunked you last."

"I think after that I accidentally kicked you and you got really mad."

"A kick doesn't get you off."

"Kissing did."

"That was such a bad joke."

"I thought it was funny."

"You would."

"Shut up and kiss me again, and we'll see who gets off first."

Dave didn't even reply before turning and pulling John into a kiss.

--------------------------------

The.. End!