The Memoirs

And a good mile away, Pete would have killed to have such an easy distraction. Since Shayla had so perfectly told him off that morning he hadn't said a word, to anyone. He was working silently, laying tile in bathrooms and painting walls. It was easy work… work he'd been doing forever, so he moved in near silence, tool belt loaded with odds and ends, hammer in place as he caulked and set, caulked and set.

Whitney was working beside him, sighing softly at the silence and wishing he'd brought a walkman or a radio or boombox or something to break the silence. Not even the jackhammers and the work crews were cuttin' and finally, he sighed. "Okay. You gotta tell me what the fuck is going on with you and Shayla. Cause that scene this morning? Not pretty."

Pete ignored him, just as he had every other time he'd asked today. kept right on working, crouching down below the really nice bathtub... Luthors didn't cheap out, even when on a deadline, and he pounded the caulk in silently.

"Okay, Pete? I'm going to ask one more time before I do something really caveman, like slam you against the wall and beat your head against a brick wall like I been doin' all day, so save us both the headache and spill it."

"Leave me alone." He said it softly, not even looking up as he fit the tile in and pushed it down before climbing to his feet and going for more.

"Well. At least you haven't lost your voice." He sighed as he kept handing tiles. "Okay, let's try a different question. Why'd you blow up at Clark like that?" Which... had not set well with him. At all. And in fact, he was still kind of growly about it.

"Whitney? Leave me alone." Pete said a little louder, just... doing what he had been doing all alone, laying down the icky sticky stuff and setting in molding.

"I've been leaving alone all fucking morning and that hasn't helped. It's only made me want to use your head for a football."

"Thanks." Sarcasm just... dripped, and dark brows came up under darker eyes, sunken in and exhausted, as he pushed past Whitney abruptly for more mold.

"You're welcome." He pushed back.

"Don't fuck with me."

"Don't make me fuck with you, Pete." Whitney cracked his knuckles casually. "Don't like that you fucked with Clark this morning. Don't like that you been givin' me the fuckin' silent treatment all morning. Don't like it at all. Talk."

"You can't fucking make me. You ain't my mama, and you SURE as hell ain't God. So leave me alone, because if not you're going to get a whole lot of ass whippin' in one little package." And yeah he was short but he stood up to Whitney, puffing his chest out and glaring at him.

"If you think you can take me, go ahead."

And after the day before he had so much of his manhood to prove, and he was terrified because Whitney could beat his ass down. But he didn't know how to get out of it without looking like a wuss, so he snarled and gave Whitney a teeny push back.

Whitney shoved back, not hard enough to throw him down but hard enough to get his attention. "You don't wanna go there, Pete."

"Maybe I fuckin' do." He snarled right back, giving him another shove, harder this time, even as he stood his ground, chin held high.

"No, you don't." Whitney shoved back, this time pushing him into the bathroom wall.

Pete hit and he blinked in shock and just… he stopped, all together, and turned back to his work, crouching down again and starting to clean the caulk around the rum of the bathtub with hands that trembled. Anything not to have to look at him, over his own weakness, and fuck. Fuck.

Whitney reached down, wrapped his fists in Pete's shirt collar and lifted. Not much, just enough to pull his feet up off the ground and thump him carefully against the wall. "You got two options, Pete. Talk, or let me beat it out of you. Because I'm tired of playin' this."

He was panicking. He knew it. Whitney was his friend and he tried violently to shove him off, struggling in a much too strong grip and oh, God. "Get the fuck off me you asshole, off me, get OFF ME NOW!" He screamed it as he shoved and pushed, fighting as hard as he could.

Okay. Whitney knew that something was seriously, seriously wrong then, and he dropped Pete into the bathtub, moving to block the door. "Okay. I'm off. Now you've gotta talk to me, Pete, and you've got about two seconds before I go and get somebody else, like Chloe, for you to talk to."

He thudded against the white plastic of the bathtub and tripped, ending up falling with his legs hanging over and ass end inside, as he tensed, snarling at Whitney darkly. "You don't even care, you just tried to hurt me, you don't care and the ONLY thing you care about is being in good with Chloe!"

"Okay, Pete?" Whitney crouched down, still blocking the door. "If I didn't care, would I be putting myself through this to find out what the fuck your damage is?" He was trying to stay calm.

Couldn't tell him. No way could he ever. No. But he could, because... "Shayla dumped me, alright? Shayla dumped me because I cheated on her, and leave me the FUCK alone."

Whitney just offered his hand to his friend. "Now, was that so hard?"

"Fuck you." Didn't dare touch him as he climbed out of the bathtub on his own, fixing his belt and crouching down to finish his job. Mind work was good.

"Wanna tell me about it? Well, obviously not. But you're going to... right?" He reached over and took the pile of tiles away.

"What is there to tell? Dick fucked me, Shay found out, the rest is history."

Whitney was quiet, processing the information. "Can I ask why?"

"Because he wanted to." Non committal, as he played absently with what was in his belt and he HATED confrontations and all he wanted to do was fucking LEAVE. "Are we done with the interrogation now?"

"No, I mean, why you and Shayla broke up?" Whitney handed one of the tiles over. "Cause it had to be somethin' a little more than that, cause she is crazy about you, man."

"Cause she walked in on us fucking. Cause I wanted to fuck, when he came to me. Cause of everything. I don't want to talk about it anymore, Whitney."

Whitney blinked, one more time. "And you were stupid enough to leave the door open?" A pause. "Okay, sorry. Not supportive." He rubbed his face. "What did you tell her?"

"It wasn't planned. It was... was hard." Pete's Adams apple bobbed like he was in a fucking tub of water and people were after him, and he turned away again, back to the floor. "Gotta get this finished, gotta get started on the other shit. Come on, alright?"

Whitney reached out and put his hand on Pete's shoulder. "So why'd you freak out just now when I tossed you around?" Thick-headed though he might have been, bad bells were ringing in his head.

"Just leave me 'lone. I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to talk about it. I just want to do my shit and go home, alright?" Pete looked up at him, darkly. "Just... finish and lets go."

"Wasn't planned... meaning it wasn't exactly your idea?" Whitney closed the door to the bathroom and sat down in front of it.

"Fuck. Fuck. What are you, like fucking Richard Simmons or something, DUMP your inner pain and you'll feel as light as you'll once be? Horse shit. Its all a fucking lie. My life fucking sucks, and ain't nothing gonna fix this shit so just SHUT the fuck UP GODAMMIT."

"You're right. If you don't want it fixed, ain't nothing gonna." He leaned back against the door. "You know Chloe thought she was pregnant a while back?"

"What in the hell you talkin' bout, man?" Defeated, and he sat on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands.

"Chloe thought she was pregnant a while back. She wasn't. But she thought she was. I was so... so jazzed. I had the woman of my dreams, I was about out of school, I was gonna have a baby, I had a decent job that'd get better with time. I was happy over it. And Chloe... wasn't. She was so upset. And she was angry with me, because I wanted it. She thought it was going to ruin her life. And she left the store." Whitney cocked his head to look at Pete. "I thought it was done. I thought we were over, and it hurt. It really cut, like a knife, right in the middle of my chest. So I swallowed it down, because I couldn't live without my lady. I sat outside her house, waitin' for her to come home and see me, and we worked it out." He shifted his gaze again. "And it wouldn't have, if I hadn't wanted it."

Pete listened, very quietly, and just... looked up at him, watching him as he spoke. Whitney, in so many ways, was an old soul. Just... wise beyond anything, and it gave him courage to tell this person who he was so close to. "I wanted him. But… then I didn't. And he... he f... forced, and... Sh… Shay, she doesn't, she did, she helped me, but then... I told her, I wanted him, because I did, and... and I just...." He was shaking like a leaf, as he leaned forward. "I wish... I wish we were like you and Chloe."

Whitney laughed at that, but it was a soft laugh, not harsh or mocking. "No, man, you don't. Or if you do, don't. Cause Chloe? Is way more than a double handful. But I love her. Ain't nothin' I wouldn't do for her, and that means sometimes swallowin' your pride." He paused for a minute. "Pete... you realize that this ain't your fault, right?"

"Yes, it is. I wanted him, Whitney." He just... he gently shook his head, and rubbed a palm over his face. "Its my fault, and now she hates me dude. Its so my fault it isn't even fucking funny." Another rub and a scratch at the back of his head for a long moment. "You and Chloe got somethin' Shay and I don't. You've got faith in each other. A lot of it."

"Okay, no. That's where you're wrong." Whitney leaned forward. "I'm not the brightest bulb on the strand. I know it, and I'm good with it. But here's what I do know; if you said no, and he didn't stop, then that makes it not your fault." He watched Pete carefully. "You guys will get faith in each other. You just met a few months ago. I knew Chloe for a while even before we started going out and stuff."

"Even...even if for some god given reason that she even DECIDES to go out with me again, man, what faith can I give her that I ain't gonna do it anymore?" He was shaking and trying so, so hard to hide it, as he stroked his fingers over his head. "How does she know? How can she ever trust me, not even my guy friends are safe anymore. She'll be suspicious and she'll always... I can't... its a part of me and it ain't fuckin' going away and I'm trying to make it go away. She can't... she can't be with someone like that, and I want her to be with me. I can't hurt her anymore, Whitney, its killing me. The way she yelled this mornin'... her eyes were so cold. She hates me, and I don't blame her for it one bit."

Whitney shrugged. "Not gonna say she don't hate you, because I don't know her well enough to be able to read her yet. But what I do know is, you hurt her. She wouldn't be human if it didn't. But what you gotta do is, you gotta be honest with her. Tell her that it started out one way, but you didn't want it. Tell her why you changed her mind. I know that Chloe spent all Sunday night with her, cryin' her eyes out and everything. Now, about anything else? No idea. You know her better than I do. You know what to say to make her believe in you again."

The guilt ate him alive. Hard, aching pain in his throat as he listened to Whitney and he could barely stand it, as his shoulders shook and he had to sit down again. Back to his seat on the edge of the table, leaning forward as he brought his hands to his face and oh, fuck. ruined it, ruined her, made her pink again because she hated him and oh, God. Oh, God. Everything that had happened in the previous week, from Clarks party to yesterday, crashed down on him like a ton of bricks and his shoulders just...they slumped. Guilt and pain and sadness and he hated feeling this way because of a stupid mistake, because of the pleasure he knew he would have gotten out of it. But pleasure was just that--pleasure, and empty when the person giving it to you didn't even care about you.

"Come here." Whitney put his arm around Pete's shoulder. "You're gonna make this right. You know how I know? Because I know you love her, man. And I know she loves you. And when she's got calmed down and got time to make sense of shit, she's gonna talk to you, or you're gonna talk to her, and you're both gonna work shit out."

"That's ju… just it." He refused to show anyone he was this upset, this close to tears, and he just shut his eyes tightly and let Whitney hold him. "I don't think we are. I think this is it. I don't think she wants to see me, not anymore. Not after what I did. And I don't blame her, I don't blame her one bit because I wouldn't talk to me anymore, either. If I knew she went off and fucked Chloe... okay, it'd be really hot, so never mind that's not right. But… but you know what I mean, right? If she went off and fucked her ex Id have to kill him and kill her."

"You let me handle that, okay?" Whitney hugged him hard. "You let me deal with gettin' Miss Pinky here. You just gotta figure out what you're gonna say."

"I love her, Whit. Man, I love her so much. She helped me, she cared about me, she got her brother and mom mad at her cause she was dating me. And I think they're right, I think I suck for her."

"Gee, let's look at this objectively. Pink Flake pre-Pete, Blonde Real Person after. Yeah, you really do suck for her, don't you?"

"Yes. ..no. Yes. Fucking hell, Whit, a normal guy wouldn't have cheated on his girlfriend, who happens to be the fucking sweetest person alive, with another guy! Okay? No, no guy does that fucking shit, goddammit." He was so furious, so angry, at himself, at the situation, at Dick. "No one does that shit."

"I slept with Clark Monday night," Whitney said softly.

Double. Take. Pete had been about to say something else, and his voice kind of shuttered off, his eyes very wide as he stared at Whitney. Just...stared at him. Expecting it to be a joke, sinking feeling said it wasn't."

"So you see, Pete? You're not the only one. And yes, Chloe knows. Which is why I'm in the dog house today."

"Y… you...this is an everyday occurrence?"

"Not every day, no. But, Chloe knows. It's complicated; it's all part of Clark being... special, and he picked Chloe and me to bond with him and Lex, and there's this whole thing. Chloe gets it better than I do. But... yeah. She knows. It happens, just not every day."

"A...all of you?"

"Yeah. All of us. So trust me, in the grand scheme of things? I know fucked up relationships and this don't even come close."

Oh, God. And he couldn't help it, because his brain and mind were everywhere at once and Clark and Lex and Whitney and Chloe was such a fucking hot mental image and he groaned because he was doing it again, and slumped even harder, rubbing his fingers through his hair as he let his head drop.

"Come on. You ready to talk to Miss Pinky? Cause it's just about lunchtime and I'm hungry. We'll corner her, and leave you two alone." Whitney just squeezed Pete's shoulders a little bit tighter.

"Yeah, man. Yeah." He said it very softly as he rose, rubbing over his eyes and not quite able to meet Whitney's eyes as he climbed to his feet. She hates me. Will she even talk to me?"

"If she knows what's good for her."

~*~*~

Chloe was a very intelligent person. Somewhat of a ditz sometimes but she held her own, and she did what she was supposed to. She ran her little Torch, she did her homework... pretty much the only bad things she did were have sex with Clark, Lex, and Whitney. However... when she was LEFT OUT of that little endeavor, the horns grew out of her pretty blond head and she held a serious grudge. She'd ignored Lex and Whitney all day, only talking to Clark because... he was Clark, and he was as sweet as apple pie and it was okay if he did bad stuff because he wasn't a bad PERSON. And he hadn't been in his right mind as of late.

However. Lex and Whitney were JUST fine and she was SERIOUSLY grudging against them, sending them glares whenever she could.

So when she saw Whitney walking over to where she and Shayla were fitting molding onto the outside of a house, her eyebrow came up, an her glare flashed on.

Whitney just sighed as he saw the glare, and flinched as it hit him. "Chloe... come on. It's lunchtime. I thought you'd like to have lunch with me." He felt his shoulder blades curling in on each other, and even his toes wrinkled at the glare.

Her one downfall, as far as she could see, was that she couldn't say no to her boyfriend, even when she was angry at him. So she just tossed her hair over her shoulder and heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes at him even as she glared. "I can't leave Shayla alone, Whitney."

"That's good. Because I got a friend to have lunch with us. Bring her along, I really think they should meet." He held his hand out to her.

A glare... but dammit. Another roll of her eyes as she took his hand, though she was still peering at him and giving him her best I'm hurt, you're in for much gloating look, and gave a sniffle to top it off.

"Sssh... I'm sorry." He used the grip on her hand to reel him in, and snuggling her against his chest. "I'm so sorry, baby." He left his cheek sitting on top of her head while he looked over her shoulder at Shayla. "Wanna come have lunch with us?"

She looked at the two of them cuddled so closely together, and shook her head. "No... don't think I'm that hungry," she said, swallowing softly.

Snuffle and she cuddled him for a second more before reaching out her hand to Shay, offering her her palm as she let go of Whitney. "Come on, sweetie. Hamburgers, coke, pretense. It'll be fun. Please?"

She shook her head no again, but then, at the outstretched hand, nodded. "Okay. Just... for you."

She wrapped her fingers through Shay's and tugged her close, giving her a big hug and keeping their fingers linked... then their arms, hooked at the elbow, as she took off her sweaty hat and plunked it atop her belt.

Shayla tossed her hat down, hooking it to the back of her belt. She hugged Chloe back gently, then hugged Whitney too, just because he was being nice to her. "Guys... thanks."

"No problem." He squirmed his way in the middle, and put one arm firmly around Shayla and one arm firmly around Chloe. Now, neither could escape as he steered them towards the table.

And she saw Pete.

Elbow. In ribs. As hard as was possible, she rammed them into her boyfriends side. He was strong as an ox but she tried anyway, snarling very, very quietly at him and glaring darkly. Couldn't... even fucking believe him, and she growled very, very quietly in her throat. Pete was hunched over the table, waiting for them, and its not that she HATED him, but she hated him for Shayla. Pete was one of her oldest friends and she loved him dearly, even if he only had enough brain cells to fill a paper cup. "Whitney!" Hissed, as she rammed him again.

He grunted as elbows dug into his ribs, but as soon as it dug in, he tightened his grip on both of them. "Chloe!" he hissed back and he just knew he was going to have a bruise on his chest from her elbow.

It really didn't register for a few seconds, because she just couldn't believe that even Whitney would be dumb enough to do something like this. But yeah. It was Pete. and... just no. No. Not Pete. She couldn't do it. Not yet. And that was the thing. She tried to pull away from Whitney, but she couldn't. "Leggo."

Another oof as a less-powerful elbow shoved into his other side. "Nope."

He was sitting slumped at the little picnic table under a huge arch of tarp, which had been set up the weekend before. Everyone was already eating, and he waited quietly for them, alone. His head was bowed low as he kept a palm over the top, hard hat and belt on the side.

All of the other tables were loaded with people, but everyone was strangely leaving him alone. A few words from his sports buddies but other than that he stayed alone. Almost as if everyone knew he was seriously depressed and didn't want to talk to anyone.

So he just… he waited, and when he heard Shayla, his heart viced tightly in his chest and broke.

Whitney's grip was like iron around her waist, and Shayla couldn't shake it off. What little appetite she'd had died on the spot, and she tried to fight as Whitney sat her down at the table, but she couldn't. instead, she stomped as hard as she could on his foot. Then she sat down, opened the coke that was handed to her, and didn't say a word.

He glanced up, just a little, and he was just so sad. So fucking sad. She wouldn't even look at him and he hadn't meant to hurt her like this, and he wanted so badly to talk and couldn't. Didn't even know what to say. Saying he was sorry seemed so little. Seemed like he could never do such a thing, never dreamed he and Shay would get to this, when last week he'd been dreaming about making her his wife someday. So he just didn't say anything and it was his punishment for being gay, or bi, or whatever the fuck he was even if he didn't like any other guys outside of Dick. Okay, Dick, Whitney, Clark, and Tyson Bedford, but that was it.

Under the table, Shayla stretched out her legs, and one of her feet brushed against Pete's leg. It was by accident, but it felt... right. It felt right because she was touching Pete, and she still didn't look up from her drink can, but she left her foot lightly touching his calf.

Whitney cringed at the death glare he was getting from his girlfriend, and he could feel his spine being yanked out by the root.

When she touched him a shock jolted his system, and he looked away. Didn't even know what to say, as he took a sip of his own soda, gone flat seemingly by just looking at it.

He was dead meat. He just didn't know it yet. But Chloe made sure he had a clue, as she glared at him because he was in BIG trouble. So much trouble that he didn't even KNOW how much trouble because DAMN. Okay, so maybe getting Pete and Shay together was good, but tricking Shayla into it? And having sex with Clark and Lex last night? Yeah. Damn.

And speak of the angel, and he'd come, because just as she was reaching over to snag Whitney's balls and yank them off, Clark plopped between herself and her lover.

Saved. This time.

"Hey, guys." A big, bright smile, for the moment forgoing the tension because yeah, he'd just gotten some and he felt pretty damn good. So said his idiot grin. His lover was just... so good at blow jobs. If there was ever a blow job tournament, Lex'd win first prize in the drive your lover to shrieks and foreign languages division.

"Hey, Clark." Shayla waved from across Whitney. She still wasn't talking to Pete, but the fact he didn't jerk away from her gave her a little bit of good feelings.

"'Sup, man?" Whitney scooted over and made room for Clark between them. But they were still all three snuggled together.

"Nothing much now." Big beam and wriggled brows as he peered over Pete's shoulder at Lex coming their way, and gave Shayla the biggest idiot boy grin of happiness, as he snuggled close to Whitney and Chloe. OH. Hello. And now he noticed her glare, blinking at her.

Glare.

"More than I needed to know, man." Whitney slapped Clark gently on the back and then leaned over to whisper. "Chloe's ticked cause of last night, man. I'm in the dog house, so um... ignore any glaring sent your way, kay?"

Lex sauntered slowly over to the table. "Is this seat taken?" he asked, propping one foot on the edge of the bench beside Pete.

Pffffft. Clark was in too great a mood, and he wrapped his arm around Chloe's waist, snuggling her right in to his side. Statistical fact--Chloe's could not stay mad at their farm boys for very long, and he hugged her as he beamed at Lex. Just... beamed.

A gentle shake of his head and Pete moved over a little bit, so that Shayla's leg had to fall off of his and he shot a glance up in apology before he remembered, and back down, dragging his soda with him as he rubbed his elbow softly.

"You are so not getting out of this, Kent." Chloe muttered, but yeah. Mushy in the middle, and he was just so happy, happier then she'd seen him in ages, and she had to hug back.

And because Clark hugs were like drugs, she just felt... so much better.

Shayla felt his leg shift away, and her eyes flicked up to his face just in time to catch his apology, and she shifted in her seat too, just enough to bring their feet back in contact with each other.

"What isn't he getting out of this time, Chloe? Or, should I ask?" He was perfectly aware of the glares being shot his way all day, and the best way he knew to get out of it was to confront it.

"You three, and boy do you EVER know what you were doing. You are in such hot water for leaving me out and I'm hurt, RIGHT in here." A touch to her heart, a snuffle so they felt BAD, and a mocked wiped tear. "But, whatever. Whatever, alright? Leave me out of the fun whilst I'm consoling the best person in the world and--"

"I'm very sorry." Pete said suddenly, softly, as he looked up at Shayla, and back down, shifting just a little and swallowing his heart. "I'm very, very sorry."

Shayla jumped when she heard him talk. "I know you are," she said, just as quietly.

"You don't have to forgive me. What I did was... was unacceptable. And I'm sorry, for what its worth."

Chloe just bit her lip, tightly, fingers vicing around Clarks arm as she held onto him as she watched, wincing as she looked up at her friend.

He was so out of the freaking loop. He gave Chloe a questioned glance, then looked up at Pete as Shay spoke... before looking down and across at her on the other side of Whitney. Wooboy.

"I... don't know if I can forgive you," Shay said, keeping her voice quiet. "You... you hurt me. But Dom was right. We need to talk. But... I can't right now. I just can't." Her foot rubbed hard against his. "Don't make me."

Whitney reached behind Shayla and goosed her.

Hard.

Shayla yelped.

Pete pulled his foot away, swallowing hard and looking at his friends once before back down in mortification. He hadn't been this torn and this embarrassed in a long, long time, and he carefully rose, swallowing a few more times before he could find any semblance of his voice. "I'm go… going to go. I'll see you guys later, kay?" A nod and off he went, escaping as fast as he could without making it SEEM like he was escaping, even if he was. He had his Pete Dignity, what little of it there was left, and he pushed his hardhat back on his head, hooking the belt around his hips and swallowing as he went.

Turned into one of the houses. Crossed through it, blinded by sadness, and walked to the one he and Whitney had been working in.

Oh boy. Ohhh buddy. Clark blinked, once, gazing up at his lover before down and across at Whitney, Shayla...Chloe, and blinking again, twice. Another time... he hated being confused, and even looking for answers in Whitney and Chloe's minds didnt find anything... something in Whitney's, guarded, and he gazed at him curiously.

Chloe… just… sighed.

Shayla watched him go, then reached behind, smacked Whitney against the back of the head as hard as she could, which, granted, wasn't hard, and then got up and walked off, can still in hand.

Lex just raised an eyebrow at the three people left at the table. "What did I miss again?"

Whitney yelped as Shayla smacked him, and then rubbed his head as he looked back at Clark in apology.

"So....Pete and Shayla are on the outs?" Clark asked as he snuggled Chloe in to his side before letting her go to reach for Lex's hand, twining their fingers as he leaned on his elbow and peered at his friends.

"So out they're in Alabama, and Whitney you are in SO much trouble. Trou. Ble." A glare at him and she flounced off after her friend.

"I didn't---do anything," he sighed, watching her flounce off. Whitney just sighed, cradling his head in his hands. "Remind me again why I'm in love with her?"

Lex wrapped his fingers tightly through Clark's as he sipped from a blue water bottle. "I'd guess they're on the outs because of what happened between Dick and Pete, but I'd thought better of Shayla."

"Because she's amazing, spunky, and she'll never bore you." Clark answered his ashimel, smiling after her as she joined Shayla and twin tiny buts in jeans that were too snug bounced off together. "Plus, she's cute as apple pie."

At his lovers words he looked up.. .pretending he wasn't watching him mouth the tip of the water bottle as his fingers squeezed without thinking, glancing back after Shayla before again to his lover. "Huh?"

Lex squeezed back, and his tongue dipped briefly into the mouth of the bottle to guide the cool water into his mouth. "Dick... attacked Pete because of the k'rachta. Bruce told me when he called at the hospital."

"Oh... oh, God." And Clark was seeing the startling image in his minds eye of just what his lover had envisioned happened and he winced and looked away, his Adams apple bobbed as he glanced wincingly to Whitney. "Fuck."

Whitney nodded. "And he was stupid enough to tell Shay that it was his idea, and his fault, that he wanted it. So of course, she got all hurt, and broke up with him."

"Miscommunication." Clark sighed softly, shaking his head and running a palm through his newly shortened locks as of this morning, sighing as he tipped his head at his friend and winced. "And he keeps apologizing, and she doesn't care, right?"

"That's about it, yeah. But, he hasn't bothered to explain to her what really happened."

"I would like to reiterate, fuck." Another sigh, light green eyes following his lovers... and his lips twitched, not daring to touch his ashimel in public but the look he was giving him, he hoped, was enough. "And Chloe's mad because of..."

"Last night," Lex guessed. "Because we were together and she was... left out of the game, so to speak." He shivered at the look Clark sent him, and he tipped his head back, pouring the last of the water down his throat.

Yeah. He saw the shudder roll through his lover and his lips twitched again, curved, as he grinned over at Whitney and tugged him a little closer as discreetly as was possible. "Then... we'll just have to make it up to her, won't we?" Wicked around the edges of course. "We'll fix pinkie and Pete, and then we'll…"

Lex smiled at that. "We're going to be regular little Cupids, aren't we?"

Whitney leaned in close, as though they were huddling over to share secret guy-type talk. "Guys, as much as I love to live on the wild and crazy side of things... no. Chloe is going to have my nuts in a noose as it is."

"Why?" A blink, as he looked at his ashimel. "We are sha'nauch. Why would she not... enjoy it?"

"No no no. I mean, she'd love it. However? She hasn't even begun to make--or Lex, for that matter--suffer."

Big grin. "I heard her thoughts. Saw an image or two. Woooo, you guys are so busted its not even funny." But he was just teasing them, as he lifted his lovers fingers to gently kiss and rub against his cheek as he shyly looked down at the soft pale fingertips, kissing the top of each one. "Sorry. I'm just in a good mood." Another kiss before he looped their fingers again.

"And you see, I don't even understand that. I don't know why you get off the hook and not us, because as I remember, there were more than just Whitney and I involved," Lex pointed out sulkily, trying to hold onto the sulk as Lex kissed his fingers.

Twinkling eyes, another kiss, a suggestive look as he gave his lover an image of himself... Lex... a... thank you for sucking on him to a hot, sticky end. "Because she likes me. ...And maybe because I went to go buy her and Shayla strawberry Danishes when she told me she was craving them about an hour ago."

"In other words, you kissed up and bought her off." Whitney glared.

"I bought them in New York." He blushed it, eyes dancing at Whitney with a raised brow.

Lex laughed. "I'm proud of you, Clark. Very proud of you. That was very.... creative."

Alright, be beamed, right at his love, slightly uneven teeth flashing. "Of course it was. She kept going on and on," He raised his voice an octave, put an attitude behind it. "I would just LOVE to have a strawberry and cheese Danish from New York right now. So was I all, Hey, no problem." Another beam. "I got twin kisses on each cheek, too."

"Bastard," Whitney said, though it was laden with affection. "Next time, just go to the Talon, kay? Because I'm not going to New York for Danish."

"Anything for my women." He puffed up in pride, even as his fingers viced on his lovers hand. He was acting.. .normal. And it freaked the hell out of him, as he squeezed tightly and kept hold. "Uh huh. So... are we going to eat?"

Lex just grinned at the thought, and squeezed Clark's fingers. "Yeah, we're going to eat, but if you don't mind... I had something a little better than dry hamburgers brought in." He snapped his fingers over his shoulder, and several people came forward, bearing steaming boxes of pizza.

Clark blinked.

Twice.

And looked at Whitney. "I have the coolest fucking boyfriend on the planet."

- = - = -

It was one thirty, and the sun was beginning to bake. Right after lunch the clouds had broken and the sun, in all of its lovely spring intensity, was cooking the earth to a nice crisp. It was windy, and it was the only thing that cut the heat from as deep as it could be.

Ben King was on the oldies station, and Chloe thrust a hip to the side, picking up a strip of wood and singing to her girl friend to cheer her up. Hat askew on her head, belt falling off one snug hip, shirt mucky and jeans fill of mud, but damn she still managed to look good as she sang to her friend. "When the night has come... and the land is daaaark... and the moon is the only light we see. No I won't be afraaaiiiiddd, no I-iii-iiii won't be afraid, just as long... as you STAND. Stand by MEE! So darlin, DARLIN, stand! Stand by meeeeeeeeee!"

She sang like a frog was lodged in her throat. But damn she was enjoying herself, as a black man as big as a mountain began to hum the bass behind her, much to her amusement.

Shayla really did want to be amused at her friend's singing, but she couldn't quite pull it off. Not even with the bass line coming in behind them, the most she could muster was a grin, and she helped lift the molding strip. "Chloe... stop. please. Don't torture the poor animal any longer."

She grinned at her and threw her the makeshift mike, glaring but she was laughing, as she began to put caulk on the strip. "Then why don't you grace us with your singing abilities, darling?"

"I don't think I've got a song in me right now, C'lo." She caught the paintbrush as Chloe tossed it, and then dropped it into her belt.

Soft sigh, and she wound an arm around her friend. "He was sincere, at least. You got sincere."

"I know he was. God, why the fuck did he have to look so fucking destroyed!" She kicked the closest trash bucket, but it didn't budge, and she hopped for a second in pain.

Wince of sympathy, as she grasped her friends shoulder gently to support her as she hopped and... everything appealing bounced. Not now, of course, but later contemplation as she kissed her cheek. "Because you're worth being destroyed over, sweetie."

"Yeah, but... ah, nevermind."

"No, come on. Tell me. Guys, hey, we're taking a break." Waved at the huge burly men lifting and stuff, and the man who was still singing nodded at them as Chloe dragged her friend out. The sun was... entirely too good on her too pale, winter skin and she looped her arm through Shayla's so they could go for a walk. "Sweetie, seriously. Alright? Its not why did he look so destroyed, its why didn't you think he would be."

"He just... it was like it was no big thing. I mean, it was, but it wasn't. If he did it, then it wasn't a big thing, but then, he's just... it makes me so sad because I still love him, Chloe, I do, and he's sad and I want to make it better, like I did before, but I can't because it's because of me he's sad, and it just... sucks all around." She held tightly to Chloe's arm as they walked, and used her free hand to scrub lightly across her face.

"I'd love him too." She said it softly, as she set her head on Shay's. "Remember when I made a mess of things with Whitney? When I thought I was pregnant?"

"Yeah, I remember." She squeezed Chloe's fingers tightly in hers.

"I made a mess of things, so big. I freaked out and I really... I made it seem like I didn't want him, over this mistake I'd made. But he took me back, and we've worked through it, and now… God, Shayla, I love him more than ever. I love him so, so very much and there's nothing that would make me give him up."

"So you're saying I shouldn't give Pete up over this?"

"Not... saying that. But... I am saying that you still love him for a reason. If you really hated him and could never forgive him, you wouldn't love him like you do. You know?"

"Yeah, I know." She put her elbows on her knees, arm still twined with Chloe's, and put her chin in her hands. "I just... wish this had never happened, dammit. I love Pete. I didn't want anything like this to fuck us up. And now... it has." Another sigh. "I promised I'd be different for him, and I wasn't. I was just like everyone else."

"He fucked up. What did he tell you when you walked in and they were going at it?"

"He... didn't. He was telling Dick to... to get off of him. And leave him alone. I thought... I thought Dick was forcing him, you know? So I hit him. With a bat. And made him leave Pete alone. But then, later, Pete told me... Pete told me they were doing it because they wanted to."

Oh. There was something distinctly fishy there, and she peered at her friend with furrowed brows, tipping her head as she thought. And didn't like the conclusion she kept getting, as her arm tightened around her friends arm. "Mm."

"So... so I just... I don't know. I don't know what I should do, I don't know what's going on, and I don't want to talk to him yet. I know I'm not ready, but it's just... it's breakin' my heart to see him like this, Chloe. It just... it is."

"Shay, baby." She'd known Pete Ross since she was a little girl, and she knew him, like he were family to her. And what Shayla had just described wasn't the Pete Ross she knew, and one word kept coming back, over and over and over and over, and she bit her lip tightly.

Fuck.

She tugged her gently over to a pile of lumber just waiting to be sat on and did so, tucking Shayla close to her. "Shay, baby, you need to talk to him. There's something here he didn't tell you, and I have...I have a feeling I know what it is. Sweetie, Pete wouldn't... why, on earth, would Pete be telling Dick to stop if he--"

Oh.

He was walking towards them like some Greek God. Blond hair and the goatee, with the paint all over him... oh, God, he looked like some eccentric artist from New York, shirt half unbuttoned as he wiped a handkerchief over his now mottled with colors skin. Oh. FUCK. She couldn't take this. Couldn't. And she just melted into a puddle of Chloe-like goo as she stared at him and walked over towards them.

"Hey lassies, what're you doing out here? Tis dangerous to be with the machinery, you know." He was melting like a fucking Easter bunny in a two year olds gooey hand. It was hot as Hades and he used a kerchief Lionel had given him the previous year to mop his forehead, blinking and peering from the soot, paint, and dirt he was covered in towards the girls.

Shayla was trying to listen to Chloe, but as soon as her brother approached, Chloe went non-verbal on her, and she sighed. "Take a pill, bro. We're just taking a break, like, away from everyone else for a while... and what the fuck happened to you?"

"Dogwood's new assistant. I look like I had a run in with a wired M&M." Glare as he scrubbed at the bright pink right below the indention in his throat, and like a typical man, made even worse by being a GAY typical man, didn't notice Chloe all but having a heart attack beside his sister. "Just be careful darlings, and keep your hard hats on." He bent to give Shay a kiss on the cheek, plopped her hat on her head a little more firmly, and left.

And Chloe tipped her head so she could watch his ass flex, until he was too far away that she couldn't.

Shayla reached out and clobbered her best friend on the back of the head. "Dude... that's my brother you're ogling."

"Oh my GOD and he's so hot." She fanned herself then, vehemently, sighing as she flushed furiously. "I would fuck him so fast his head would spin. I bet Whitney would get in on it and OH! Am I ANGRY at THEM!"

"Chloe Dawn Sullivan, I do NOT want to hear about you wanting to fuck my brother! That's just EWWWWWWWWWWWW!!" She shook her head violently. "I don't want to hear about ANYBODY fucking Morgan, for that matter, and that really includes big daddy though I am curious as to just what is hiding under those suits!"

Oh, Chloe laughed, batting her friend in the arm with the back of her hand. "I heard them screaming last week, finally, after I was teased with this information forever. Hello. They've got a pair of lungs on them, haven't they?"

"I'm not having this conversation with you."

"I so am! I swear, Dominic screamed so loud the windows rattled." A teasing grin as she climbed to her feet and offered her arm again. "And Whitney was all, like, ew, but oh man, it was so hot and no way did he not react. Especially when my fingers found their way in his pants."

Roll of her eyes. "Let's just, leave my brother out of the conversation and we can get back to why you're so mad at Whitney, kay?"

"Got it. Whitney fucked Clark and Lex. Without me!"

Shayla's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "WHAT!" she shrieked, at the top of her lungs.

Chloe blinked. "Oh, yeah, Clark and Lex and I are like, this life friend thing where its totally okay to fuck, I'm not clear on it but that's the next thing I ask Clark when he's better. We all share weird hormones, dude, Clark can give… oh, like, pleasure through the link we share and muh. But anyway, usually I'm way included, but last night! They fucked without me. I was… uh. So mad. And Whitney and Lex are in so much trouble."

Shayla's eyes were still wide. "I'm sorry, I lost you back at the part where you said, Whitney fucked Clark and Lex without you."

Yeah, she could relate, and she grinned. "Lex fucked Whitney, and then they both fucked Clark. Or so Clark told me, after he went for our Danishes this morning, and by the way, how cool is it that our best friend can get us Danishes like that?"

"...you're talking about Danishes in the same sentence with fucking Clark and Lex and you're really not seeing where I'm having a problem with this, are you?"

"No, actually." It was so normal that she'd kind of forgotten why it wouldn't be okay, and that little tidbit puzzled her. She would have NEVER done this, but since Clark had... and they had all... things were different. She found herself speaking words sometimes she didn't understand the meaning of, didn't understand as they came out of her mouth. Found herself arching and begging for scrapes over her lower back, begged and pled her lover.

Which was actually a weirder thought then she had imagined. Definitely, definitely needed to talk to the both of them.

"Usually I'm the ham and cheese to their bread, you know."

Shay blinked, and shook her head. "Yes, I know, and I know way too much as it is, thank you. No more talk of you and foursomes or my brother. Anything rated above PG-13 is off-limits. But, you have to answer one question for me."

"Anything."

"Is Lex as well hung as I think he is?"

Broad. Grin. "Whitney's 11, hard. Lex is almost ten. Clarks ten."

Shayla's jaw dropped. She held her hands up, and just rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry I asked."

"No, no...wait." A thought. "I'm lying. Clarks about... nine and a quarter, Lex is almost ten. Clarks just got bologna, so its harder to figure out." She glanced at her and smiled, raising a brow. "Had all of them inside of me at some point or another, you know. Wasn't it you who kept wondering about Clark and Lex? It killed me cause I couldn't tell you."

"Chloe? I'm going to tie your tongue in a knot if you don't shut up."

"What? Why am I being told to shut up by my best fr--oh. Sorry, baby." A wince as she squeezed her hand, and tugged her in tight, hugging as they walked. "I don't think sometimes. I sorry."

"It's okay." Shay hugged back tightly. "It's really okay. Nobody died, I just... later, kay? Later, we'll get tape measures and rulers out. Just... not right now."

"I'm sorry. I know." Sudden remembrance of what she'd been thinking about before, and her fingers viced on her friends arm as she set their temples together. "Shay, if Pete was fighting Dick when they were having sex, it wasn't sex, baby."

"I thought so too. That's why... That's why I was all cool about it, until he said... he said he wanted it. I didn't think he meant... that, I just thought he meant he wanted to have sex with Dick and it got out of hand."

"I think maybe he might have." She squeezed her friends arm, tightly. "He won't ever admit it was something else. His pride is very important to him, Shay, at any cost."

"Yeah, I know." She nodded firmly. "I've been with him enough to know that."

"So... if this thing with Dick, wasn't what he said, I wouldn't be surprised at all." She cradled her friend close, kissed her cheek, and let go, to once again get her tools.

Shayla straightened. "Where's he working?"

"With Whitney, over on Cobble street." A moment, she blinked, and fished out her map of where the streets were being laid... turning... pointing off to the west. "Down that way."

"Okay, thanks. I'll send Whit back to take over here for me, kay?" She straightened her shoulders again as she followed where Chloe was pointing.

"I love you, Shay."

"I love you too, Chloe." She hugged the other girl tightly, giving her a quick, slightly more than friendly kiss. "Wish me luck."

"Luck. Get better, so we can make out." She whispered into her ear, hugging her once more before pushing her off. "Send my slave to me. He'll wish he hadn't pushed you two together at lunch."

"Yeah. Kick him in the pants a good time for me. He doesn't feel it when I do it." She made sure her hard hat was firmly on her head as she negotiated the construction zone, and followed the hastily-erected road signs to Cobble street, and she looked into several houses until she saw a flash of broad shoulder topped with blond hair, and she slipped into the house behind him. "Whit?"

"Shit!" Whitney nearly dropped the last bucket of tile grout he'd been hauling into the kitchen for Pete. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too. Out. Chloe's up on Treebark Way, and she wants you up there, faster than pronto."

Whitney surrendered the grout bucket. "Here you go, little girl. Kitchen's that way." He ducked out of the house, and started up the dirt trails towards Treebark.

"Dickwad," she snarled, lugging the bucket to the edge of the kitchen, where Pete was tiling the kitchen floor. "Hey. Did someone order grout?"

He looked up, and was so startled to hear her voice that he cut his hand. Sliced right across palm and thumb, and he hissed and held it as he quickly backed up from the open crevice of ground and grout already half laid out, wincing as he cupped his hand. "Sh… Shay."

"Shit. Come on. Let's get you outside, get that cleaned up. There's a nurse here, come on." She crossed the kitchen and caught him by the wrist, tugging in with her. "Careful. Let me see."

Her hands on him made him shake, and he'd rather stab himself dead then have her feel his trembles. He pulled away, carefully so she wouldn't be angry any more then she already was, and pulled the hand up where it was covering the cut, hissing softly. It wasn't bad but it wasn't great either, and he covered it back up and put pressure on it. "Its alright. I've had worse."

"Come on. We're not going to take any chances." She frowned when he pulled away, and touched his shoulder again. "Come on, Pete."

"I'm okay, Shayla. I take care of myself." You don't have to worry. But that part he didn't say, because he had no right to what she could or didn't have to worry about anymore. But he could pass off the shakes for the cut, and he let her touch him now as he followed her. It was bleeding pretty badly… caught a vein, because the blood was dark, and this very thing on this very hand had happened to him the summer before when he and his father had been retiling the shingles on the roof of the house. "What are you doing here?"

"Chloe wanted--actually, no. I'm not going to bullshit you. I wanted to see you. So I told Chloe was I going to switch with Whit."

"Why?" A swallow, as he looked down. "Did you want to see me."

"I'm not... sure, exactly." She carefully touched his hand, cupping it between her own as they walked out of the house together. "Part of me... wants to make sure you're okay."

Saying why was getting repetitive, so he stayed silent, flinching his hand away a little, but when she didn't go to touch it, he relaxed just a little bit. "You didn't have to."

"I know that. But... I wanted to."

Okay. So he didn't say anything else, just carefully picking his way through the construction zone until he and Shayla got to the trailer set up beside the main office, and they walked up the steps.

Inside... it smelled like a clinic. How did this place manage to smell like that in the middle of this war zone was a mystery, but Pete carefully sat down beside a man holding a white strip of gauze to his head, and winced a smile at him as he did it.

Shayla sat down beside Pete, taking another look at his hand and wincing softly at it. She looked around the little room they were in, and there was a small box of gauze on the desk apparently for this reason, and she got up, grabbing several pieces and swabbing away the blood before pressing down on it with another clean piece. She held it there in place, her position giving her more leverage as she leaned over. "There, how's that?"

The physician... he could hear her talking in the room adjacent to the small waiting area, and Pete looked down at his palm as Shayla blotted it. It didn't hurt, just stung. Other things were hurting much, much worse right now, and he begged with God not to let him cry in front of her. All he wanted to do was hold her again and kiss her and beg for forgiveness, and make it like none of this had ever happened. Knew it wasn't possible... wished anyway, and begged whoever was listening not to let him break down. "Its alright."

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," she said quietly, keeping her head down as she looked at the gauze on his hand. "Lunch... I didn't realize. How... how sad you were. I had to see you. I couldn't let you be sad. at least, not alone."

"W… we broke up, Shayla. You don't have to worry about me anymore." Hardest words he ever said in his life, and he all but choked on them.

"Yeah, I do." She still didn't look up. "Because... because I still love you, Pete."

His breath trembled out and he swallowed, hard, looking away and fidgeting. Would not cry. WOULD. NOT. FUCKING. CRY. His hand was beginning to burn and he concentrated on it, not her words, no, couldn't, no.

He didn't answer her. He turned away from her, and she was devastated. She made a small, hiccupping noise as she kept the gauze pressed tightly to his hand. "It's okay."

"You deserve so much better than me." He said it, softly, when he was finally able to get his voice back, and it was dark and scratched and rough, guttural as he spoke. "You deserve someone who won't do this to you."

"I don't--" She swallowed hard. "I don't think you really... did anything to me." She still hadn't raised her head. "I think... you think you did."

"I did. I wanted it. I shouldn't have wanted it, but I wanted it." Firmly. "I wanted him."

Hard swallow. "Yeah. You did. You wanted it. But... wanting it is okay. Morgan's right about that. But what... what I walked in on... didn't look like you wanted it at all." She lifted the gauze to look at the cut, winced at the open gash, and then put the cotton pad back down.

"N… no. I wanted it, all o-of it." He shook his head, firmly, pulling his hand away from hers to cradle close, and he couldn't look at her. "I wanted it. I wanted it."

"You wanted him to make love to you, I get that. But... that wasn't what I saw." She touched his shoulder, still not looking up at him. "There's a word for what I saw, and it's not pretty."

At that his breath whooshed out and he got jittery, looking away and fidgeting and he wanted so badly to get out of Smallville in that moment that he could hardly breathe. "No. No. I wanted... wanted it. Haven't y-you ever liked it… liked it hard? No. I wanted it. W… w-wanted it. Leave me alone. Hate me."

She nodded, pink bangs falling into her eyes as she bit her lip. "I might leave you alone, but... but I won't hate you. I think... I think I'm always going to love you."

It. Done. She was finishing it, they were going to do the parting as friends thing, and he looked up at her, as the words choked in his throat. "I don't have any right, but I l… love you. I love you, and I'm so sorry."

At that, she took her other hand, and held it out to him.

He reached out, without thought, and took it, in his own. So much smaller then his hands, smeared with blood, but she didn't care as he looked at their interlocked fingers.

"You can tell me to go away now, and I will. Or you can tell me that we'll talk, tonight or in a few days, and we may yell and cry, but we'll find a way through it."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry to you. I can't have you hate me. I'm sorry. I want to try, I want to work it out. I want you to look at me like you always do, and not with disgust and fury. I want you to love me again. I'm so sorry."

She swallowed hard. "Then we will. I'll stop being so stubborn, for a while, and you'll... you'll be honest with me, about what you wanted and what really happened. And we'll work it out." She squeezed his fingers tightly in hers and finally looked up at him. "Because you're my Pete."

He vowed he wouldn't cry, but his eyes were filmed and shiny as he looked at her, blurry through the haze, and nodded, tightly, his fingers vicing around hers as tightly as he could. "Okay." Another squeeze, a hard squeeze, and he brought their hands, his shaking and hers so strong, and kissed their interlocked fingers softly. "Okay."

She let go of the gauze on his hand enough to stroke her thumb over his cheek. "We'll get there. I promise."

He nodded, hard, and someone spoke his name behind him. He looked up... the doctor from the ER, Dr. Rubenstein, was looking at him with brow raised. The older gentlemen from beside them must have been seen while they had been talking, and Pete blinked at the woman as he looked away from Shayla. "Oh. Hi."

"Hi, Pete. Come on back, and let's get you looked at, hmm?" She smiled. "What did you manage to do to yourself?" Leila Rubenstein had a twinkling smile as she watched the two little lovebirds. "Your girlfriend can come too, it's all right."

"S.." She's not had been on his tongue, but as he looked back at her, he realized yes. She was. So he held her hand, tightly in his free one, and climbed to his feet, not saying anything to her as he looked at the Dr. Rubenstein quietly. "Cut my hand, with a grout spreader."

"That doesn't sound too serious. Let's have a look at that. Come on in, step into my office, and let's get you cleaned up."

"Thanks, Doctor." Shayla didn't let go as she followed Pete into the doctor's small cubicle, and stood beside the table as Pete got onto it.

"Well, let's just see here. Have you had a chance to wash this out yet?" She peered into the gash. "Well now, this isn't too deep at all. I don't even think you're going to need stitches."

"Didn't wash it... just came straight over." He said softly, holding his hand out to her as he didn't take his gaze from Shayla. Had set himself up on the table and his muddy boots tracked dirt all over the already somewhat muddy floor. "It hurts."

"Well, I'm betting that's because you got some of the grout in the cut." Leila brought over a basin of warm water, and dipped his hand in it. "There we go. Let's wash it out real well. This might sting a little."

Shayla wrapped both her hands around Pete's. "You can hold on to me."

"I'm not worried over it. Had worse. Farm kid." Speaking in fragments wasn't usually his forte, but he'd found himself doing it all day as he dipped his hand in. Hissed softly regardless, not watching as the woman began to... pick at it, or whatever the hell, and instead looked at his girlfriend softly with all of his sadness and hope for her on his face.

Leila hummed softly to herself as she washed out the cut, rubbing gloved fingertips over it until she could no longer feel the rough particles of grout in the cut and she pulled his hand out and dried it off on a nearby towel. "What I'm going to do is put some antibiotic cream on it, and wrap it up. I'm going to give you a rubber glove to keep the bandage clean, and when you get home tonight, unwrap it. If it's red, if it's leaking anything out, you come see me first thing in the morning, and we'll get you on serious antibiotics, okay?"

Shayla leaned against the table, and rested her cheek against his bicep. Her fingers wrapped tightly through his, and she looked up at him quietly, nodding silently against his arm.

"I'm a little dizzy." Quietly, as he stared at the woman. "I don't like blood. Can I lay down for a second? Is that okay?"

The doctor nodded. "Of course, just hold up your hand where I can get to it." She turned her back as she picked up bandages, gauze, and ointment, spilling a small vial of talcum powder before tossing it into the trash and getting fresh bandages.

Shayla moved, sliding one hand over his shoulders. "Come on. Lay down."

"Alright." He lay back on the crunchy paper of the examination table, closing his eyes for a minute before he took a soft breath, inhaling softly and exhaling. He was shaky and his fingers closed around Shayla's, tightly. "I'm not a wimp."

"No. No, you're not." Shayla leaned over him, then, her right hand laced through his, while her left hand stroked over his forehead. "You're not a wimp at all."

"All right, Mr. Ross. I'm going to ask you to hold your hand up for me, and this ointment might sting a little when it goes on, but that's natural." Leila had changed gloves and was standing beside her patient. "You ready, young man?"

"As ever." He held his hand out to her and fought not to think about what she was doing, looking at his girlfriend over him as his fingertips tightened around her palm where they were pressed. All of her beautiful blond hair, gone, her eyes, so dark and sad, and still she was here, still she was standing over him.

And for her, he would swallow his pride.

"He forced it. At the beginning... yes. But a-after, after... I thought of you. And no, I said no, but..."

Leila worked quietly, trying hard not to listen to what was being said but in the silence of the medical trailer, it was rather hard to miss as she worked.

"Morgan guessed it. He said I needed to talk to you and find out what really happened." She put her head on his stomach, out of the doctor's way as she worked. "I knew when I came in there, it sounded like... like he did force you." She kept her voice low. "But I didn't know, especially after what you said. So I told you to get out, because I didn't want to be around you when I thought... you wanted everything. But this is different, because... wanting is one thing. But doing it is something else." She felt... horrendously grown up, saying this, as though it were something she never should have had to have learned in her life.

"Your perfume was everywhere. I couldn't, n… not when...everywhere." He didn't want to talk about it though and he looked away, hard. wincing as the woman started spreading something that burned like fuck, and he hissed softly. "I'm sorry, Shayla."

"I know. I smelled it when I came in." She stroked his chest soothingly. "You need to take care of yourself tonight; how about we find somewhere to talk tomorrow night? Somewhere quiet." She tightened her grip on him when she heard the intake of breath, and she squeezed gently.

"Sorry about that, Mr. Ross." Leila winced as well. "The burning should go away in a few minutes." She started wrapping the bandage over his palm and wrist.

"Okay." He said it softly, looking up at her as his fingers flexed in her own, and anxiety thumped his heart. Didn't say anything else, as the doctor began to wrap his hand, and he closed his eyes to ward off the encroaching dizzy spell, breathing softly and evenly. "No stitches, Ms. Rubenstein?"

"No sir, no stitches." She pat his shoulder gently. "Just the bandage for about a week, and you should be good to go."

"Better than last time." Quietly, and he didn't think he was going to pass out, so he opened his eyes and gazed at Shayla. "I won't go to the doctor, Shay."

"I won't ask you to. I trust you." She left her head on his stomach. "Are you okay?"

A slight nod of his head. That morning he'd had to use an enema on himself, because there was no way he could use the bathroom without agony. Dick... Dick had torn something, a few something's, but he'd lubed what he could and it would heal on its own. And there was no way, at all, that he was going to go to the doctor to have someone shove something up his ass and tell him what he already knew. "I'm alright."

"No you're not," she said quietly. "But you will be, when I'm done with you."

Leila finished tightening the bandage around his wrist, and patted him on the shoulder again. "There you are, we're almost done." She looked up. "Miss, if you'll wait outside for just a minute, Mr. Ross and I have one more thing to finish up."

He looked down at his palm, bandaged up and covered up, and thanked god as he flexed his fingers. Just a little, softly, moving his fingers tentatively as he gently nodded towards his girlfriend. "You… you can wait? If you want. If not, I'll see you tomorrow night... maybe at the Talon?"

"I'll wait; you're still going to need someone to help you finish, especially now that you're injured." She looked up at him again, pink bangs still in her eyes, and then left the room.

Leila waited until the young woman was completely out of the room before she spoke. "Mr. Ross... I was trying, very much so, not to overhear your conversation. However, what I did hear, worried me. Is there anything else you'd like me to look at, while you're here? It goes no further than this office, no matter what you say." She walked over and closed the door as she waited for his answer.

Pete stared at her. Blinked... oh. Fuck. FUCK. Fuck. He swallowed, hard, his eyes wide as his mouth trembled open. Okay. Suddenly... okay. Oh, God. "I d... don't need a doctor, Ms. Rubenstein. I'm okay. You fixed me up, see?" Held out his hand.

"Mr. Ross, may I be frank?" She took the panicked silence for a yes. "I gathered that you wanted this kept completely out of the eye of the authorities, and while I don't agree with that, I will respect it. However, as a health care professional, there is a great deal of damage that can be done, both physically and psychologically, and if you don't let me examine you, I highly suggest you let someone do it."

He suddenly found himself in the place he never wanted to be and he shook, vicing his arms tightly against his sides as his throat swallowed heavily, and his limbs just shook like leaves. "I d… don't want people to... I don't want to go to the doctor. M… my.. .the person? H… he, h-he isn't bad, he was" High, say high, SAY HIGH! "High, a… and it was an accident. He's not bad, not at all, not bad. I don't want anyone to think he is."

"High or not, there is no excuse for what was done." Leila crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not asking for a name, Mr. Ross. Only to look out for your health. In another week? You'll never see me again, because I'll be back at the Metropolis clinic where I work."

He looked at her for a long moment...to the door, again to her, shifting his eyes from his hand to her face as he thought. ...And the moment his mouth opened, his decision was made for him. "I keep… keep bleeding."

"Up on the table, then, and let me look, all right?" Leila dropped the gloves with the antibiotic ointment on them into the trash can and refilled the basin with clean, warm water. "If I see any serious damage that I can't take care of here, I'm going to have you sent to the hospital in Metropolis."

Fuck. He was shaking as he climbed to his feet, shoulders raising up as he brought his arms a little around himself. "No one will come in? An… and do you... clothes off? Should I..."

"No one will come in, but if it will make you feel better, I'll lock the door to the cubicle. Suiting action to word, Leila locked the door, and then looked at the scared young man. "You don't have to take off anything. Just slide them down far enough so that I can look. You can lie down on the table, or bend over it, whichever is more comfortable for you." She gave him a small smile. "You're doing the right thing, if that's any consolation."

"The right thing sucks." He said softly, as he brought his new bandaged hand and his free one to his pants. Carefully unbuttoned to accommodate his palm, and he brought his pants and boxers down just a little, enough so she would be able to see, and lay down on the table. He'd had enough bending over to last him for a very long time. This way... he could see what she did, could see if he didn't like something, and he swallowed hard as he glanced once more to the door. "He didn't know. He... he loved me, but then his ex came back and... and I think he's jealous of Shayla. She's my girlfriend. She walked in on us when he... she helped me."

"Then I'd say he needs have a serious evaluation of his life and his psychological status." Leila angled the light, and she frowned. Even against Pete's chocolate skin, the bruises were vivid. "I'm going to carefully feel inside, to see where the tears are and how deep. If I hurt you, tell me, and I'll stop." She made sure her gloved fingers were slick, and she touched him carefully. "I'm going to start now."

His heart was pounding a mile a minute, and he turned his head away from the door and towards the corner, so he couldn't see her. He felt her fingers and it was horrible, horrible because they felt like… like Dicks had and he bit his lip tightly to keep the sob in, body going still as a drum as she touched him. "H… he's fucked up." A flinch before he relaxed again, a soft noise in his throat that he clenched down on hard.

"I'd have to agree with that assessment." Leila frowned. "There's why you're still bleeding; there's several rips in the soft tissues behind the sphincter muscle." She pulled her hand away from his body, and she went to the counter. She sorted through several canisters until she found what she wanted. "Here. This is called Tegaderm. It's an adhesive seal that adheres to your skin, and allows tears, scrapes, and scratches to heal. Internally, Tegaderm patches are usually used in the oral area, but they're safe to use anywhere. I'm going to patch up the tears with the Tegaderms, and you should notice the blood tapering off almost immediately. Come see me Saturday, and I'll remove the patches, and you'll be fine." She held up the clear patch for him to see.

The tables plastic under his belly and hips was so cold. He really hadn't heard most of what she said, only knowing she had to touch him inside again and his fingers were almost white on the grip he had on the table. Something about tape, and having to come back to get them taken off, and tears were falling down his face and he couldn't believe what a wimp he was. And even as he chastised himself, called himself an idiot and a moron, he kept right on crying.

Leila paused, and she pulled up a stool beside the table. "Mr. Ross, it's quite all right for you to cry. I won't tell anyone." She handed him several tissues to wipe his face with. "You need to talk to someone, someone who has experience in things like this, and I don't mean your girlfriend. I can give you a number, before you leave, if you'd like."

He took the tissues from her and sniffled, shaking little breaths coming in and out. "I k-keep telling people I wanted it… b-but I didn't. I didn't at all. After... I didn't. You must think I'm such a wuss." He wiped his nose and face, barely looking at her as his free hand didn't let go of the plastic at all, laying his cheek down on the table, too. "I don't want people to know."

"Well, that's the first thing you have to be able to do. Admit, to yourself, that what happened was out of your control, and then you will be able to talk about it someone not related to you." She went back over to her cabinet, and pulled out a card with a toll free number on it. "This is a crisis hotline. You don't have to give your name, your call isn't logged, and it's anonymous."

He took it from her and didn't even look at the number, just pressing it in his hand and closing his eyes for a moment before opening them back up. "What... what do you have t-to do, to put the Tegaderm in?"

"What I'm going to do is, deaden your rectum with a bit of local anesthetic cream, so that the application doesn't hurt any more than it has to. I'll be using no more than two fingers, so don't worry about being hurt. After that, it's just smoothing it into place, and peeling it off in a week." She put her hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just trying to help you."

His breath had quickened as she spoke, and he was taking deep, even gulps of air as he fought to control himself. Deaden, in, two fingers, oh, God. "J… just hurry, okay? Please."

She shook her head. "I can't, if you're not relaxed. Because I could cause even more damage than we're trying to fix. Would you like me to call your young lady back in here, so she can be here with you? Will that help calm you down?"

"Oh my God, no." He said it sharply, getting up on one elbow to look back at her. "Shayla can never know t-this. Never. She can't know this. Sh...she broke up with me, after, because she thought I'd wanted to have sex with him, and... no. No. We're just.. just getting okay again, so no, can't, no."

"Mr. Ross? If you don't mind your doctor telling you one more thing... be honest with the young lady. If she broke up because she thought you wanted it, don't you think she'd be a little more accepting if she knew you didn't?"

"No." Hot stubborn pride there, his last scraps of it, as he lay back down and away from her. "She can't know. She can never know."

"Then that's your choice, Mr. Ross, and I'll respect that." Leila snapped yet another pair of clean gloves into place. "Just relax, and we'll have you fixed up in a jiffy."

"Okay." Closed his eyes again… couldn't think about what she was doing. He should have told Shay, and he knew he should have. He'd told her as much as he was going to be able to, and if she loved him, she'd accept it. He loved her as much as was humanly possible to love someone, and he just hoped she wouldn't mind that this had happened to him. So he just closed his eyes, breathing softly as he grasped the table again, swamped feelings of dizziness making him swallow hard.

Just as Leila was getting ready to apply the first patch on, there was a pounding on the cubicle door. "Pete!? You still in there? You okay, baby?"

"Fuck." He whispered it, and rose his voice, "Y... yeah, Shay. Be out soon baby. You can go back out, if you want."

Shay stood outside the door. "I'm not leaving, Pete. I'm going to stay and help you."

He was so dizzy. Fuck. He lay back down and closed his eyes, his throat swallowing, bobbing. He wanted her, needed her to be like she was, like she always was, and she wouldn't look at him in shame. If she came in, held his hand, she'd never ask him about what happened. He'd never have to tell her. And because he knew the words were physically incapable of coming out of his throat, he turned back to the doctor. "M... maybe she should come in, after all."

"Yes, I think she should." Leila got up and walked to the door, pausing at the foot of the exam table. "You made the right choice." She unlocked the door, and pushed it open just enough for Shayla to come in through. "Come on in, young lady."

"Yeah, thanks. I--" Shay walked into the exam room, and her words died in her throat. Was worried for you.

Pete was laying on the table on his stomach, bared ass and white knuckles clutching the side of the table tightly. Her stomach twisted inside, her throat closed up, and she felt engulfed with shame and anger. Shame because of how she'd treated Pete, anger at Dick for hurting Pete like this, and she didn't know what to say. She just quietly walked over to him, slid her fingers down his arm until she found the uninjured fingers, and gripped them tightly in her hand.

He grasped her hand, as hard as he could, linking the fingers tightly and bringing them to his lips. Kissed the back of her hand as many times as he could, holding her close and a soft whimper gave way in his throat, as shame and embarrassment and pain lit his face and shut his eyes tight. It was worse than what he'd imagined, her knowing like this, and he made the soft noise again as he tried with all his heart to detach himself from the situation. Laying with Shayla on the floor, watching cartoons and eating donuts. Having her giggling and holding his hand, and things were okay there. There was no Dick, no Rosalyn, no anyone to hurt them in ways they never thought they'd be hurt.

Shayla stroked her free hand over the back of Pete's head gently, bringing her cheek down to rest where her hand had just stroked. Soft, quiet tears slipped out and down her cheeks to drop gently on his head, and the quiet whimper moved her even further. She kissed his temple, the shell of his ear, stroked his hair again as she sniffled quietly. "I love you," she whispered into his ear, tightening her grip on his hand. "I'm so sorry, Pete, so sorry."

"Don't be." He grunted, hard, dark, his voice deep with his fierce grip on his emotions, and he kept her close to him, keeping his eyes shut. "Hurt you. I hurt you. I'm so sorry. You should have never gotten in with me. Bad for you, very bad. Deserve someone better, Shay."

She dropped his hand only long enough to hug him as best she could, with him lying on the table like that. "No, you're not bad for me. You're not. You're good, Pete, you make me good, and I missed you so much." Soft kiss to his cheek. "We're going to make it all okay again."

"I love you, Shayla. I love you so much. Not an excuse for what I did." He couldn't feel her palm through the bandage and he hated that... but he couldn't let go of his grip on the table with the other. Couldn't... tried, but couldn't. The doctor was moving around behind him, getting things ready he supposed, and all he could do was lie there and have Shayla see his shame, his absolute shame. "Baby, I love you."

"I'm going to kill him, you know," she said softly. "I'm going to kill him, and if I don't, then I'll get Morgan to have it done." She struggled to speak through a throat that was still closed, knowing what the doctor was doing, and why. She held as hard as she could to him, and rubbed her cheek against his.

"Mr. Ross, I'm going to need you to relax, because I'm going to begin." Leila left her hand resting on his cheek as she spoke, feeling gently to see when he relaxed.

"O-Okay." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Okay. Okay, Ross. He was in his bedroom, dildo waiting and ready, fingers on his cock and stroking. Had to relax enough to get the dildo, already streaked with lube, in, and he fought to maintain the mental image as his body relaxed. Just a little at a time, slowly and carefully, until Shayla's palm was pressed with loose fingers against his face and his body was relaxed enough to let her in.

Shayla didn't say anything, seeing the harsh concentration on his face, but it broke her heart. She stroked his face gently, exploring and soothing the furrows and crevices with her fingertips, the occasional tear still slipping off her cheek to fall onto his skin.

Leila didn't say anything else, just waited for Pete to relax before she began her work. Quick, sure touches stroked the local anesthetic cream over the boy's torn skin, and she frowned deeply. Whomever had done this was bigger and stronger, and seemingly uncaring of the damage he'd caused. The frown didn't disappear as she worked, applying several more patches than she'd realized as she found more tears, but soon everything was patched up, and she threw the gloves into the trash can. "There, Mr. Ross. You're nice and finished up."

Ten minutes later, and he'd felt every single touch, and every single movement. It hadn't hurt but he'd felt it, felt her stroking over the walls to get the patches on and oh, God. It took everything in him not to jerk away and run away screaming, and he was positive he would have made her stop had Shayla not been with him. Okay. Okay, but it was over, because she said it was, and he swallowed very, very carefully as he opened his eyes. "I… its okay to move with them? Inside?"

"It's quite all right. Tegaderm moves like your skin does, so you won't even know they're there." She smiled at him. "I'm going to let you get cleaned up now, and I'll be right back with something for your hand."

"Okay." He rose then and climbed to his feet, letting go of Shayla to quickly bring his pants and underwear up. Quickly buttoned and zipped, tugging the blue shirt he'd been wearing back down, and got his construction belt again, hooking it around his hips. He couldn't look at her, not when he felt her gaze on him, and he finished arranging his clothes as he shifted. He didn't feel the strips she'd put in him but he still felt her fingers, probing and touching.

After this, he would never again get pleasure out of anything back there. And it hurt him, deeper than he'd thought, because he felt a little part of him die along with it.

Rubbed his hands over his face, and the good thing about having cocoa skin was that no one ever notice when you'd been crying. He just rubbed his face clean and went to the little sink on the side of the trailer, putting the water on and splashing his face cold as he rubbed his eyes and his cheeks. Wiped himself up with a paper towel, carefully keeping his back turned, and tucked the little paper he'd set to the side with the hotline number on it into his pants pocket.

Shayla walked over to him, putting her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his back. "I'm sorry." She hugged him, just as hard as she could. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't… don't ask me, okay?" His palms moved tentatively over her own on his waist. "Don't… don't ask me. I can't tell you."

"I won't ask." She hugged tighter. "I can figure most of it out." Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. "But I won't ask."

"I'm so sorry, Shayla." His fingertips grazed hers, gently, until they opened to let him in. "I'm so sorry. If I hadn't wanted, it wouldn't have happened. I'm so sorry. It was bad judgment, bad idea, bad everything. Don't let us die because I was stupid, Shay."

She gripped his hand tightly. "No, don't say that." She put her head back on his shoulder again. "It's not your fault. It's not anybody's fault." She stroked his shoulder. "We're not gonna die, Pete. I promise." She squeezed even tighter. "I'll come home with you, help you with your math homework since you're kind of out of the loop with the writing thing, and then tomorrow night... you and me are going to go somewhere. Not the talon, cause it's too loud and too public. But somewhere it can be just you and me, and we're going to talk, okay? I won't ask you anything you can't answer."

"Okay." He just... agreed to everything, couldn't say more than that, and he carefully let her go to get his light jacket, which was now splattered with mud, and tugged it on over his t-shirt. Nothing else said, just waiting for the woman to return, and he carefully sat down in a chair beside the door. "What time is it?"

"It's... two thirty. The buses are going to be leaving in about half an hour." Shayla hoisted herself up on the table, looking at Pete.

"Okay." Again, softly, as he looked anywhere but her, and instead down at his hands.

"Why... didn't you tell me the truth?"

"I did." He rubbed the bandage of his right hand, carefully rubbing the tape firmly onto his fingers.

She shook her head. "I mean, the real truth. What happened."

"I did." He repeated it, quietly. Didn't want... to talk about this. At all. "I wanted it."

"I'm not... stupid. What you wanted... and what you got... were two entirely different things."

"We had a fight. When...when we had Clarks party. He was mad at me, because it was so obvious I loved you. He was mad, and said it didn't take me long to roll into another bed. It hurt me. Because it was Sam saying it, not Dick, it was Sam and he was accusing me of not... not loving him. I still love him, Shayla. And he was saying these… these things he shouldn't have been. And when I went to the house, and was looking for my boots, he came back. And he wanted me, like it used to be. I didn't think, I didn't.... but your perfume broke. It was everywhere, and all I could think about was you."

The most he'd said in two days. And his voice was hitching at the end.

Shayla was looking at her feet, and his knees. "I know you still love him. I knew that all along, but I just... kind of ignored it. because you loved me too. And as long as I knew you loved me, then I could handle it. But... but when you said you wanted him, all I could think is, you wanted him more than me. And that's what hurt me the most, is that you didn't want me any more." She sniffed hard. "And that's why I told you to get out. Because I didn't want to be around you, if you didn't want me like I wanted you."

"I do." His voice choked. "That's why this happened. I wanted you more than I wanted him. He hurt me, over and over and over, and all you ever did was make me feel good about myself, gave me cour-courage, loved me like I was some great person. I love you because you make me me. You don't try and change what's already here. I thought... it was like old times, when he loved me and he wanted to be inside of me. But it hurt, it hurt so m-much, and..." Couldn't say more, as he rubbed his hand over his face.

Shayla got on her knees as she wrapped her arms around her waist. "Pete... no. I do love you. You're my Pete." She hugged him as tightly as she could. And I'm going to kill him for hurting you."

"He was sick. I saw it, his skin was crawling." A shake of his head, and he could barely hug her back, his fingertips gently on her as he heard the doctor approach. "I think I want to go home."

She nodded. "Okay. I'll get the keys to Dom's car. I'll take you home."

"Thank you, Shay."

"You're welcome."

Before she could say anything else, in came the doctor with a small white tube. "Here you go, Mr. Ross. This is for your hand, if it starts stinging again, use this. Remember what I said about coming back if it starts to seep or get infected."

"I will." He looked up at her, for the first time since they'd come in. "Thank you." And it was from the bottom of his heart, because he didn't think anyone else would have been this good to him, as he took the little bottle.

You're very welcome." She gave him a big smile. "I called your house, and your father will be here in a few minutes to pick you up. Don't worry, you're going to be fine."

Oh. God. His dad, his... his dad. Oh, God. His throat bobbed and he nodded, smiling at her a little as he offered his hand to her and shook firmly. Okay. His dad… was going to see through his lie in a quarter of a second. But it was his dad, who he adored beyond reasoning. Okay. He looked at Shayla, cautiously, as he took her hand and left the room with her. "You... you want to come back?"

"Of course." She held his hand tightly. "I told you, I'm helping you with your homework. And besides, your dad likes me."

"They both do. They like you." He said it softly, as they left the office and walked down the steps. The wind was a little harder now, the sun still shining but it brought with it a brisk, early spring wind that had him zipping his coat and tucking Shayla close under his arm. Nothing... didn't feel anything when he walked, which was a godsend for the pain of the morning. Every step had rubbed, had brought pain with it, and the lube he'd stuck in his jeans pocket was a heavy weight as he thought of it.

Shayla kept her arm firmly around his waist, hard hats clacking together as they hung from belts. "Feeling better?" she asked softly, rubbing her hand over his back. "I wouldn't have left, if I'd known what the doctor was doing. I wouldn't have left you alone."

"I needed to be. She figured it out." Quietly. "I don't want to talk about it. Okay?"

"Okay. I won't make you." She was quiet for a very long moment. "This will take time, you know."

"Us?"

"Yeah."

It broke his heart, as he watched the construction teams going about their business. "I know."

"But we're gonna make it." She squeezed. "You know how I know?"

"How?"

"Because I want it. And I always get what I want." She gave him a small smile. "And I want you."

As it was, he didn't think they'd even make it through high school together, and it was a hard, dark jab to his gut. "I want you, too."

"There, you see? It'll work out." She didn't let go, but waved at the maroon car pulling up to the construction gate. "There's your dad. Gimmie your hard hat, I'll drop it off, and you sign us out, kay?"

"Alright." He handed her the hat off his head, rubbing a palm over his hair as he leaned over the table with the clip boards. Found his and Shayla's homerooms and signed them both out, setting the pen down once more without looking towards his dad. Instead he watched his girlfriend, and when she was done, offered his hand to her as they walked towards the car.

Shayla hurried, dropping their hats onto the rack and running back over to Pete. She saw Lex, peering out of the office door at them, and she waved at him with a sunny grin as she slipped her hand into Pete's. "Hey, Mr. Ross!!"

Dogwood Ross Sr. looked at the perky little blond girl walking with his son, and just shook his head. Gloria had said when he'd called her that those two would be joined at the hip, and she was right. "Hello, Shayla. Peter, what did you do to yourself?"

"Hey, pops." He stopped in front of his father and presented his chopped up hand, shaking his head a little bit. Easier to put up airs in front of people, ad he did that now, knowing he'd look right through it but not caring. "Cut my hand up with a spreader. I'm okay, though, no stitches."

"Uh huh." Dogwood Sr. put his hands on his hips and glared at his son, not believing a word of it. "Right. Come on, in the car with you. Didn't you do this last year, too, son? You keep slicing yourself up like this, I'm gonna buy you a hand guard or somethin'."

"Last year too, uh huh." He held open the door for Shayla quietly, seeing the look his father was giving him and swallowing hard. "She's going to help me with my homework... can't really write, dad."

"Right. Like you don't have three other brothers currently not doing a damn thing but layin' around on the telephone that can help you. I know exactly what you're up to, Peter Ross, and there isn't going to be any funny business under my roof, do you understand me?" Mr. Ross shot the glare to Shayla too. "That includes you, young lady."

..And because sex had been the furthest thing from his mind, he just blinked at his father, uncomprehending. ...Oh. He looked at him for a long moment before letting his gaze flicker away, and nodded softly. "Don't worry about that." And closed the door carefully behind her, getting into the front seat himself and closing the door behind him.

"Yes, sir. We're going to work on Math and Spanish, and that's it." She slipped her hand through the crack between the seat and the front door, pulling Pete's hand down to lace her fingers through it. "That's all, I promise."

"Then that's fine." Mr. Ross shot another look to his son, and shook his head. "Boy... you and me are gonna have a long talk when I get you home."

Fuck.

His fingers tightened on Shayla's for a moment as they found his, looping tightly together as he slumped in the front seat. His dad would ask a hundred questions, and when Pete didn't answer them he'd tell Pete's mom, and then mama would hound him, and his brothers would find out, and then everyone would be hounding him to tell because that's how his stupid, stupid family worked. ...Except Berluce. Berluce wouldn't ask. Pete could hide out in his room, and decided he'd do exactly that at the first possible chance.

"Yes, sir."

"Berluce's home upstairs, but he's got the door locked again. Figure he's still on the phone with that girlfriend of his." A sigh from Mr. Ross. "How'd this happen?"

"How did what happen?" His thumb stroked Shayla's, gently.

Mr. Ross's eyes narrowed. "Well, I was talkin' about your hand, but now I'm talkin' about whatever it is you're talkin' about."

Shit. "I... sorry. I thought... you were talking about Berluce. My hand? I was... getting some tile on the floor, and spreading it… slipped, caught my hand. Nothing serious… the doctor gave me some ointment, should be alright in a week."

"Peter Isaac, you're the only one of my seven children that can't like for hill of shit."

Wince. Whole name. Bad when the whole name was used. "Jack can't lie yet?" Meekly said softly.

"Jack can lie like an angel, even when he's got cookie crumbs in his mouth."

"Its nothing dad. I promise. I'm not lying." He'd confess later. Plenty of time for church when crises weren't involved. "Just got a little disoriented and dizzy with the blood. Didn't pass out though, so that's a plus."

"Uh huh. Peter, do you think your father was born yesterday?"

"Must have been, because you still look twenty five. And the gray? Very manly. Like, think Harrison Ford. Gray and he looks stately. Denzel? Uh huh."

Shayla chimed in to help her boyfriend out. "That's right. Very handsome man, Mr. Ross. I can see where Pete gets it from, I certainly can." She nodded.

Mr. Ross smiled at the young girl in the back seat. "Shayla, honey, Pete's doing great on the bullshit thing all by himself. He don't need your help."

"She does it well, though. You should have seen her with her older brother… little bit older than Dogwood, and wow. Just… wow."

"I've met Mr. Senatori, Peter. I know exactly how well the man bullshits. And that doesn't mean that you're getting outta this."

"There's nothing to get out of, pops." Except his eyes were a little too deer in headlights. "Seriously. I promise. I'm just not feeling well."

"Why do I get the feelin' you're tryin' to stonewall your dear old Dad?" He stopped the car in their driveway. "Shayla, why don't you go on up to the house, and have a seat in the porch. Peter and I are going to talk."

Sigh. Just… fuck. He let go of his girlfriends hand and slumped in the seat, staring at his bandaged palm as he nodded. "I'll be right there Shayla."

"Okay." She leaned over the seat, and kissed his cheek. "If you need me, yell. I'll be right up there, okay?" She squeezed his shoulder, and then slid out of the car, going up the walk and sitting on the large porch swing.

Mr. Ross turned the ignition off, but left the radio on. "Now, you wanna tell me what's really goin' on?"

"No." Fucking hell, this was not something he wanted made public, at all, but his dad could crack a fucking nut and he didn't say a word more, looking down at his fingers as he slumped against his seat belt.

"You're not gettin' out of this car until you tell me whatever it is you're hidin'." Mr. Ross glared at his son. "If you're in some kind of trouble, you need to tell me now, while it's still at the stage to be handled."

"No. No trouble, pops. Its nothing like that. I just don't want everyone in the world to know. I don't want you to know. Because it shames me. Okay? So drop it, okay? I don't want to talk about it, and she said I didn't have to, the doctor. So I'm not going to, and you can't make me."

"Actually, I'm your father, in case you hadn't noticed, and yes, I can make you, because if you don't tell me, then you're gonna be tellin' your Mama, and I really think you'd rather tell me than her. But either way, you're not gettin' out of this car until you tell me what's going on that you had to see the doctor about!"

He couldn't. He couldn't tell his father, someone who he looked up to so much, couldn't tell him what had happened. Couldn't bear having his dad look at him in pity, couldn't bear for him to go down in his dad's eyes and he was trembling again, shaking his head and wrapping his arms around his waist. "I can't. My… my hand."

"Yes you can, young man."

"I don't want you to be ashamed of me."

Mr. Ross turned in the car seat to look at his son. "Peter... I'm never going to be ashamed of you. You're my son, and I'm always going to love you."

"I can't. I can't, dad. Please, please don't make me." He begged it softly, looking up at him with filled eyes. "Please, please don't make me tell you, please."

Mr. Ross unbuckled his seat belt and reached across the seat, hugging his son to his chest. "It's okay, Peter. You can tell me."

He was panting, hard, breath pushing in and out of his lungs and he was hyperventilating as he grasped his dad tightly, burying his face in his fathers shoulder and throat as he hugged him close, so hard, so tightly. "I c-can't, can't, I can't, not yet, I can't, dad, please, dad don't make me say it, please, I c-can't, I can't, not yet, please, I can't."

Strong, protective arms wrapped around Pete's shoulders, and Dogwood rocked. "But you will tell me, when you're ready?"

He couldn't promise it, couldn't, so he just held tightly to his father, trying to catch his breath as he held him and he felt... he felt like he was so displaced, like he wasn't himself, like this wasn't him. Felt like it couldn't be, and that this wasn't happening and it was a dark, hot dread in the pit of his stomach as he finally let go of his father. "I h-have to get Shay, we should study."

Mr. Ross looked at his son carefully. "Peter, you're not going to be able to fool your mother."

"I'll avoid her." He said softly... and because his heart was random and broken and he didn't have anything to lose, and everything to lose at the same time, and because he had his pride, his integrity, and his honor, he said softly, "One of my friends and I got high, and he raped me."

Mr. Ross just blinked, and didn't say anything for a very, very long moment. Then, he just hugged Pete tighter to his chest. "I suppose an I hope you've learned your lesson is redundant at this point?" he asked softly. "Peter... what in God's name possessed you to take anything? Whoever that friend was, I'm forbidding you from ever seeing him again, here and now."

"First time I ever did anything." If his mother ever heard of this, and he hadn't supposedly been high too, she would have pressed every charge in the book. But he could be high, he could change the story a little for his family. "He asked me to try it, so I did. And... and a-are you..." he was crushed to his fathers chest, but his fear had him looking up at him. "Are you ashamed of me?"

"I'm sorry, did you just say the last time you ever did anything?" Mr. Ross glared at his son. Then he softened. "No, Peter. I'm not ashamed of you. I'm a little disappointed, because I thought we'd raised you better, but I understand it's hard thing to say no when someone's pressuring you."

"I… I won't ever do it again." He said it softly, looking up at his father. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. Don't tell mama."

"Peter... you can't ask me not to tell your mother about this. But I'll make a deal with you. You tell her yourself, and I won't have to."

At that the sob broke out of him, tears filling his eyes hard as he pressed his arms tightly around his chest. "I can't. She'll go nuts. I can't hurt her like this. She can't know, not with a guy. She can't know. She thinks I'm her angel, that I don't do drugs, I don't drink, I don't have sex with guys and girls. She can't know."

"Was it Sam?" Mr. Ross asked, sudden clarity and understanding dawning.

"Oh, God." His breath whooshed out hard and he looked away, mouth trembling open as he swallowed air.

"It was, wasn't it?" Mr. Ross nodded sadly. "Peter, your mother already guessed that something was going on between you and Sam, but neither one of us guessed it was anything this serious." He paused quietly.

"Sam... w... we went out for a long time." His voice was very small and quiet, as he looked at the grass and trees in their front yard. The front door was right around the garage, and for once he was grateful he couldn't see her. "For about… about 8 months. He left me, though, and Shay came in the picture. But the other night, we were hanging out, cause we're still friends? Were still friends. But we...and he got me to...and then.."

"And then." Mr. Ross nodded. "I don't want you seeing that boy again."

"You don't have to worry, dad." Pete said it softly. "He... he's Dick Grayson. Bruce Wayne's Dick Grayson. theyre leaving next week, so... I won't ever see him again, probably."

"Good." Mr. Ross just held his boy tighter. "He's no good for you, at all."

"I love you, dad." So soft, quiet into his dads shoulder, and his fingernails dug in as he held him as close as he could. "I love you so much. Thank you for not being ashamed of me. You're my role model… I couldn't stand it if you hated what had happened."

"Peter, that's one thing that you have to know about being a father. A parent doesn't hate their child for anything that happens. They can be sad, they can be angry, they can be disappointed. But they never hate." He just hugged tighter. "I hate that it happened, because I never wanted you to get hurt, but I don't hate you."

"Do you like Shayla, dad?" Left field but he had to know, as he gripped his father close.

"Your mother and I are already planning your wedding," he said with a small grin.

Crap and he let out a harsh sob, though it was lit with a smile, gripping his dad close to him. "When we graduate, and I can support her, I'm going to ask her to marry me."

"You're gonna make your mama happy. She's planning on lotsa grandkids from you two."

"I love you, dad." He repeated it, softly, squeezing him close for a minute more before letting go and coughing softly. Embarrassment and the male need to keep emotions to ones self, as he carefully rubbed his eyes clean, sniffling softly and looking at his hands. "Should we go in?"

"I love you too, Peter." He thumped his son gently on the back. "Yeah, we should go in now. Bet that little girl of yours is pacin' the porch waiting for you."

"Prolly." Another sniffle, as he got his seat belt off the rest of the way. "I thought Berluce was gonna give mama grandbabies?"

Mr. Ross snorted. "Not at the rate he's spankin' the monkey these days, he's not."

Pete's eyes widened and his face cracked with the first real grin in days. His dad... had never really talked to him like that and he liked that he was cool enough to be talked to like his dad talked to CJ and Dogwood and Berluce, and he just about beamed. "Yeah. Gonna end up killing something off if he doesn't stop."

"I think he's done killed off everything that can be killed off, includin' his prospects."

A choked laugh this time and he grinned at him...not unlike the way he used to when he was a little boy, as he climbed out of the car and closed the door behind him. "We'll know in a coupla years."

"Go on in, Peter. I'll be in behind you in just a few." He turned off the ignition and the radio, and watched his son walk, then dropped his head down on the steering wheel for a few moments, thinking in the silence.

"Okay, dad." He turned and left the car, tugging his jacket off as he did so that he could throw it in the laundry basket on his way to the bedroom. Climbed up the steps and gazed at his girlfriend sitting in the rocker, like she belonged right there, and he knew Berluce would have had a field day drawing her. She looked beautiful... sad, almost, and he offered his hand to her as he stopped at the door. "Come on, baby."

She jumped up out of the rocker as he came up to the door, and she wrapped both her hands around his. "You okay?"

"I'm alright." A nod at her, and he carefully tucked her hands on his elbow, as he opened the door and led her in.

She looked around, grinning at the house as she remembered the last time she'd been here. "Pete, I love your house." She stayed close to him. "Come on, let's go to your room. We can leave the door open."

"No, its okay. I told my dad we wouldn't..." And there was hot blushing in his voice, as he tossed his jacket into the laundry room hamper on their way up the steps. "We can close the door. CJ and Berluce'll leave us alone, and Jack… I don't even know where he's running around."

"I don't want to get you in trouble, that's all. You can close the door, or leave it open." She squeezed his hand as they went up. "I think this is the first time I've ever been in your room."

"Naw... you been up here once before. Waay back when, and only for a sec, though. Or maybe I dreamed it, ain't sure. Probably the latter." He stepped over Bub, their pet cat who was more mean fucker than cat, and opened the door to his bedroom.

Posters all over. He'd taken Gina down and put bands up, TV shows...Buffy shrine in the corner. He had instruments everywhere, a small wall piano with a comfortable chair, a CD player. Hundreds of CDs in a rack, and his bed, a full mattress with blue and orange Arizona pillows and bedspread on it. A little rumpled but made, ironically, and he straightened a carpet with his big toe as he led her in. He had a desk in the corner of his room, cluttered with a TV and various pieces of junk. His Spiderman action figure collection, which he'd stopped collecting a year ago, and his shelf full of comics. Yeah. he was a dork, but he didn't care.

"You can sit down pretty much anywhere. Just be careful you don't sit down on one of the kittens." Bub and Ms Priss, who they thought had been Mr. Priss, had had kittens a few weeks ago, and he lifted one who was snoring on the side of his bed in showing. Four weeks old and he was a bright orange, with white and yellow stripes. He set the sleeping baby, who was rousing now, in Shayla's lap, and crouched softly to his book bag, going in for his stuff.

Shayla petted the little kitten carefully, stroking the tiny meowing creature and bringing it up to rub against her cheek. "Pretty little baby," she said softly, smiling at the softness of the fur. "Wish I could take you home but there are three big old puppies that wouldn't like to have a cat around." She watched Pete moving around his room, as she perched on the side of his bed. She cradled it like a real baby as she looked at Pete. "Pete... I'm glad Whitney made us have lunch together."

"I am too." He said softly, looking up at her. "I really am too. I think we owe him something nice and expensive, now, though." A nod and he rubbed a palm through his hair, over his face, and got out his math book and his Spanish. "This isn't due till next week. You just want to be with me, don't you."

"You found me out." She rubbed her cheek against the kitten's fur again. "I just wanted to spend time with you. No expectations, nothing like that. Just... us, hangin' out."

He sat down next to her, on the edge of his bed, and set the books in his lap as he shifted a little. "Will… will you let me kiss you?"

She nodded, and set the kitten in her lap. "If you want to."

He leaned forward and gently, ever so gently, cupped her cheek, bringing her close to him to kiss. A soft mating of lips, nothing more, a skim and kiss before he let go of her. Things were going to be different from now on, he could feel it, and he dropped his fingers into her lap to grasp her own. "I'm so sorry, Shayla."

She closed her eyes as she felt his lips touch hers, and then opened them again when he pulled away. "I'm sorry too." The kitten was curled up in her lap, and she gave Pete her fingers. "I'm sorry for everything."

"I love you. You can't believe it now, but I love you so much. I can't think of anything but you, I can't do anything, I can't function without thinking about you. When you're not with me, I cease to be." He whispered, bringing her hand to his lips. "I love you, so much. So much. And I didn't realize it until I was laying here last night, and I realized I wouldn't be able to go on without you. I love you, Shayla, in my soul."

Shayla reached over and pulled Pete's face down into her shoulder. "I know; I know it so much. I hurt so much. I told Morgan that even when you left, I wanted you to hold me and tell me everything was going to be all right, because I still loved you." She held him tight. "I love you, Pete, so much."

"I hurt you, baby, and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, baby, that I hurt you like that baby, I'm sorry that I hurt you because I couldn't talk to you. I'm sorry I'm a big idiot. But I love you, I love you so much. I want you to be with me, not anyone else. I love you, baby. I'll never do anything like this to hurt you again. And I know… we're not alright, I know that. But we can make it alright again."

"Idiot Jed," she reminded softly. "I remember Idiot Jed. We'll just write this off to Idiot Jed, and we'll try this one more time." She squeezed his hand. "It'll take longer to get through this one. It will. But we can do it. And hopefully we won't see Idiot Jed again."

And its what horrified him the most, because he knew there was no getting away from said Idiot Jed. He was inside of him, and he would always be there, begging for a hot cock inside and strong arms around him.

But he buried it, buried the feelings as deeply down as he could, and took Shayla's hand in both of his, closing his eyes and nodding.

"When... when things get better, we'll talk. About... you know. If you... need somebody else too, sometimes. I don't... I don't like it. But I know you'll want it. Need it. And I can't give it to you. So we'll talk. But later, cause I don't want to think about it right now. I don't want to think about sharing you." Shayla squeezed his hand. "Okay?"

"There won't be anyone else. I promise." He said it softly, as he carefully cradled her hand gently in his, watching their fingers. So different, night and day, light and dark. "Want to nap with me? I'm really tired."

She nodded. "I do. I really do. But... I don't think we should. Because if I'm going to lay there next to you, all warm and... Pete-ish... I'm going to wake up wanting something that neither of us is ready for yet."

Stab to his heart, right in the center of it. Because she was right. His Adams apple bobbed as he nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Definitely. We should study... mid terms next week."

"No. You should get some sleep. You lost a little blood; you're going to be tired." She picked up his history book. "But I'll stay here until you fall asleep, and I'll borrow your desk, okay?"

He looked at her for a long moment before he nodded, softly. Climbed to his feet and kicked his shoes off… taking his t-shirt off and leaving the under one on and slid softly under the cool covers, pressing his pillow against his face. "Thank you for forgiving me Shayla."

"You're welcome," is all she said, and she slid his desk chair over to the side of Pete's bed. The sleepy little kitten curled up against Pete's warm body, mewling softly as it nestled in, and she squeezed his fingers once. "Rest now, sweetie. I'll be here."

He turned his head away from her, grasping the pillow close to his cheek as he stared at the end of his bedroom. The wind was blowing softly outside, tustling the enormous apple tree outside of his bedroom porch door, and he felt the kitten close as he closed his eyes.

Shayla started humming softly, wordless soothing melodies that she usually hummed to put Shane to sleep as her fingertips stroked the back of his hand, over his arm, over his cheek.

And he fell asleep, listening to her sing, and never feeling so alone in his life.

 

-fin-

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