The Memoirs

"Won't ever get your taste, man. Sick."

 

But Pete did everything S...Dick asked of him. Bought Chinese... they stopped at the Blockbuster on Feldman Lane and rented Moulin Rouge. Got a case of beer... Dick was legal after all. Weird. 21 to Pete's 17... and he felt more then a little intimidated. God, he must have looked like suck a fool when they were together...in that way. But he smiled and laughed with his friend, and after stopping to get Rocky Road, they were back in Dicks apartment. It was warm...cozy, and cleaner then it had been last time.

 

Pete walked in silent with his friend, setting the bag of food on the countertop, and offered a shy little smile. "I’m gonna get some sweats on… alright?"

 

"Yeah, sounds like a good idea."  Dick stripped off his leather jacket and instead of tossing it like he usually did, he put it in the coat rack and then dropped onto the sofa.  Got back up, cracked the case of beer open, and chugged one can down.  Didn't help.  Nothing did.  He just... wanted Bruce to go away.  Wanted to hang out with his friend Pete, have some shitty Chinese food, drown it in beer, kick back with some videos and fall asleep with his arms full of someone he loved.

 

Wasn't.  Gonna.  Happen. 

 

He seriously considered throwing the case of beer against the wall, but decided against it. 

 

He slipped back into the bedroom...and let himself sag against the bed, slowly sitting down on it and swallowing hard. His heart... his chest... it ached like it was a physical wound, and he coughed softly, choking back the harsh sobs that ached to break free. But if anything, Pete was good at hiding his feelings from everyone...even himself. This is how things were to be, and he'd accept them, just as he accepted everything in his life.

 

He got up, and was looking in the closet when the doorbell rang.

 

"I'll get it, man... just come out when you're decent."  Dick got up from the couch, cool beer can pressed against his head, and looked through the peephole.  Didn't even bother to open it.  "What the fuck are you doing here, Bruce?"

 

"I came to apologize." Softly, and he closed his eyes, looking down at the floor.

 

"Thought I told you to go away."

 

"You did." He swallowed softly, and held the roses a little better in his hand, so they wouldn’t get crushed in his grip.

 

"Nice flowers."

 

"They're for you."

 

"I don't want them."  He sighed.  "Pete's here; get out.  We're going to be having dinner and watching a video; I don't have time for this."

 

"I can wait." He said it so softly it was almost unheard. "Whenever you're ready… I'll be here."

 

"Fine.  Then wait."  Dick walked away from the door, and threw himself back down on the couch.  "Pete?"  When he didn't get an answer, he walked into the bedroom.

 

Seeing his lover on the bed broke his heart.  "Baby... I'm sorry.  Tell me how I can make this better."

 

"Hmm?" His smile was bright, shining as he held up his reward. "Just… uh, was getting the energy to get into these sweats. I’m tired."

 

So he did.

 

He knew this was how it would work, because he knew Dick better then he knew himself. So Bruce just set the flowers in his lap... sat down on the concrete in front of the door, back to the wall.

 

And waited.

 

"Forget the sweats."  Dick gathered Pete into his arms.  "Jesus... I knew I shouldn't have... I knew I shouldn't have gotten involved with you, but I couldn't.  You really are the best friend I've ever had, baby, the person that I know I can trust, with anything."  He sighed.  "I really don't want to hurt you."

 

You're going to anyway. "Its cool, yo." He smirked and slapped him on the back, giving him a quick hug before yawning and stretching. "Yeah, its cool. C'mon, Nicole Kidman’s fine white girl ass is waitin' for us, n' that nasty shit you like to eat."

 

"Pete... just so you know... Bruce came by.  I didn't even let him in; told him to get lost.  He's sittin' in the hallway." 

 

"What? You left him...in the hall?" He groaned and slapped his forehead. "Friggin Christ."

 

Yeah. Hall. Bruce was in the hall. Trying very, very hard to keep his masculinity intact. Losing his composure in a public place wasn’t exactly his signature.

 

"I don't want him in the house, Pete.  Besides, we have plans." 

 

"Yeah, we got plans, but the hall?" Another stare. "Dick, would you leave me out'n the hall?"

 

"No.  I wouldn't."  He looked up.  "But you're not Bruce, either."  He rubbed his thumb across Pete's cheek.  "If I told you to get lost, would you respect that and get lost for a couple days?"

 

He shook his head firmly. "First, I'd kick yer ass for tellin' me to get lost. Second, I'd beat yer ass s'more for being a damn idiot. But ya know. Just me and all."

 

Dick couldn't help smiling, and winding his arm around Pete's waist.  "Kick away, baby... you can kick my ass anytime you want to."  He buried his face in Pete's shoulder again, just holding it there.  "Tell me what to do, Petey.  Tell me how to make everybody happy."

 

"I’ve learned in my brief stint on this earth that other peoples feelings mean fuck. You gotta take care'a yours first, 'for you can take care of other peoples." He nodded, and cuddled close as the tears sprang to his eyes again. "Love you."

 

"I love you."  Dick held on tightly as he felt Pete cuddling close to him.  "Jesus... this fucking sucks." 

 

"Not really. Are you gonna sit there and eat Chinese when you know the person you shared your bed with for a coupla years is sitting outside in that cold as fuck hall?"

 

Dick nodded.  "Yeah... actually I am."  He swallowed.  "Call me a bastard but... let him see what it feels like... knowing something's going on and bein' on the outside of it all the time."

 

"Bastard." But it was said lovingly, and he wound an arm around his waist as they walked back to the living room.

 

Pete gave him an hour, tops, before he caved.

 

It took about forty five minutes before Dick was pacing lightly in front of the door, beer in hand.

 

He hadn’t moved. He was sitting there, in the hall, dozens of white roses in his lap, and his chin on his chest. He'd reigned his emotions as best he could, and now he sat silently, face blank, watching the flowers in his lap.

 

Dick was peering out the peephole, staring.  "He's still just sittin' there... fuckin' idiot," he muttered.

 

"Course. He's waitin' for you, ain’t he?" Pete made a "duh" motion with his hands and grabbed the fork from the plate in his lap again, munching on a piece of beef.

 

Five more minutes of pacing, and then he turned his back to the door, thumping to sit on the carpet in front of the door.  "Bruce, at least... go get some fuckin' coffee."

 

His mother had loved red roses...and to this day, he couldn’t stand the sight of them. The only time he ever bought them was for the vase in his fathers study, where the picture of his parents sat.

 

Words...muffled by the wood, and he spoke softly. "It's okay."

 

"Christ... goddamned stubborn ass man!"  Dick shoved himself up from his seat on the floor, and went to the kitchen.  "Pete... tell me something... why the fuck am I makin' coffee?"

 

Pete just grinned around a mouthful of rice, watching him walk into the kitchen before taking a sip of beer. "Because he's your love bunny."

 

"Say that again, and I'll rip your teeth out."  But his hands didn't stop filling a coffee mug with hot water, or putting it in the microwave to heat up.  "Fuck... I know I got cream around here somewhere... there."  He dragged the canister of powdered cream up to the counter, beside the jar of instant coffee.  "I just feel sorry for his dumb ass."

 

"Sure." Pete rolled his eyes, and stuffed another forkful in his mouth.  "Hey," He climbed to his feet, setting his plate aside and swallowing. He carried his own beer into the kitchen, and popped himself up on the counter. "Where did you guys meet?"

 

Three minutes and the water was nearly boiling, and Dick transferred it to another mug as he stirred in the coffee and the creamer.  "Long story."  He leaned a hip against the counter.  "I used to work with a charity circus--my whole family.  Me, Dad, Kit--my brother--and my Mom.  We were doing a show in Gotham.  We were high-flyers, trapeze.  Kit was learning to ropewalk.  Anyway... one of Bruce's enemies--guy named Two-Face--brought in a couple hundred sticks of dynamite and tried to blow up the building where we were performing."  Dick swallowed hard.  "The four of us... we got the bomb up to the roof, and since I was the smallest... I fit through the ductwork so I could roll it down the domed roof and into the harbor."  Another very hard swallow.  "Two-Face was looking for Batman... when he saw what we'd done with the bomb... he shot down the safety ropes that Kit and my parents were hanging onto.  They...  they died."  He choked back a quiet sob.  "Bruce took me in after that."  Coffee ready, he carried it over to the door, and opened it barely the length of the security chain.  "Here."

 

"So you were all... trapeze? That’s kind of cool." But Pete's smile was fading with each word spoken... until the quiet sob made him get off the counter. He embraced his friend, tightly so... then watched as he walked to the door.

 

He got up… quickly so, and offered the flowers instead. "Take them. Please." And he took the cup of coffee, gratitude in his eyes as he offered the roses. "Please, Dick."

 

Dick held tightly to Pete until he could move away without sobbing, and took the coffee to the door.  A long pause, and then he reached out, taking the bouquet of white roses and softly closing the door again.

 

He dropped the roses as soon as he got them in the door, and then bent to pick them back up again.

 

"Shhh...hey." Pete murmured softly, helping him pick the flowers back up, and wound his arms around him. "Hey...Dick, its okay. Its alright, c'mon."

 

Funny, he was having the same problem with the coffee. The little gift, so unexpected, and he sat down again… hard, and murmured, "I love you, Dick."

 

"Shut up, Bruce," Dick choked out, holding on tightly to Pete.  "Just... shut up and drink the fuckin' coffee."

 

"I love you. I've always love you." Whisper quiet, but just loud enough to be heard. "I've loved you as long as I’ve known you. I loved you before I even knew your name. I saw you... and I knew I had to touch you, feel you inside... give you what I felt in my heart I wasn’t capable of any longer."

 

With each word Bruce said, Pete’s heart broke harder. He held his friend though, tight as he could, rocked him...stroked his hair. "Shhh... its okay...shhh.."

 

Dick leaned hard against Pete.  "Why won't he just shut the fuck up?  I don't want to hear this, I can't hear this."  Muffled, quiet sobs into his lover's neck.  "Jesus, Pete..."

 

"I keep you out of my life because I love you so much, I care for you so deeply, that if I were to lose you I wouldn’t survive. I couldn’t live, day to day, night to night, knowing you're in the earth. That I couldn’t save you, like I couldn’t save the people I’ve cared about in my life. I couldn’t live thinking I was the reason all I had left to talk to was your headstone. You are my days, Dick. My sunshine, my salt of the earth, my laughter. I see you, laying in the sunshine after I’ve made you hoarse with passion and there’s... there’s nothing like it. I can't ruin that; can't put the dark circles under your eyes and the hunted expression in your mouth. I can't subject you to my torment."

 

Dick leaned back against the door.  "You want to know something, Bruce?  I had nightmares, every fucking night you wouldn't let Robin go out with you.  Me... talking to a headstone... asking if things would have been different if I'd been there.  If I could have helped stop that bullet, take down the bad guy, done something to save your life."  He shuddered against Pete.  "I couldn't live with that any longer."

 

"You can't know. You could never know, Dick. My life underground is terrifying and real… every monster you thought couldn’t possibly exist does. And there'll come a time when I can't save your life, and I'll watch y..." Oh. Composure. Lost. "You, I'll watch you die. I can't face that pain... maybe I’m cowardly, but I can't watch you die and know I’m the reason for it."

 

"You're killing me every time you shut me out," Dick choked out.  "My parents--they died.  They died trying to save other people's lives.  You--God, Bruce, you taught me so much.  I'm not going to die because of you.  You taught me how to protect myself, you taught me how to fight, you showed me all the things I need, but you won't let me be with you."

 

"I don’t want you to see." Softly, and he looked away from the door, trying so hard not to lose it all and failing so miserably. "I don’t want you to see the man I am."

 

"I know the man you are, Bruce."

 

"You think you do… but you don’t.  I taught you because I can’t stop those evils all the time. I taught you so that in case anything should ever happen to me, you won't end up at the hands of my fate."

 

"Don't I?"  Dick thumped his head against the door.  "You think I don't know... God, will you stop treating me like I'm an idiot?  I've seen you through everything, Bruce, and the one thing that's never wavered in this is your belief in what's right."  He thumped again.  "Batman can't right everything alone, Bruce.  He needs a partner.  You need a partner."

 

He closed his eyes for a long moment. Robin had been there for him, a dozen times or more. Saved his life more then once, and he hated to admit it but he was an asset.

 

The man behind the suit was his treasure.

 

"Batman does need a partner. I need a partner. Will you forgive me, Dick?"

 

Dick almost bit through his lip.  "Do you mean that, Bruce?"

 

"I love you. More then this world. I love you, and I treasure who you are...and what you can bring to my life. It was just time I realized that...and I’m so sorry for hurting you all this time."

 

Pete had long since sat down. Right here, before his very eyes, he was losing the one person who he truly loved...for another man. But it wasn’t his place to say anything...to made Dick feel bad for going back to him. So he just smiled, pumped a fist in the air in victory for him, and stayed silent.

 

Dick dropped his head onto his knees, shaking his head and his shoulders.  "I love you too, Bruce... I just... I have a life here too now.  I can't... I don't know anymore.  I don't know anything anymore."

 

"Come back with me...to Gotham. Go back to college...be my partner. Be my lover again. Please, Dick. Accept me back into your life. Please."

 

Dick raised his head so that his chin rested on his folded arms, and stared at Pete.  "Help me, Petey..."

 

"You gotta, man. Its cool...you and I will always be friends, right? I mean, hello, we rock." Pete nodded, and sank to the floor with him, touching his hand. "Its cool. Gotham’s not that far off, n' we can visit and call n' shit. You need Bruce, Dick. He loves you… you love him… ain’t much more explanation needed." He nodded.

 

And would have willingly torn his still beating heart out of his chest.

 

Dick scrubbed his arm over his eyes, for once feeling the young kid he'd been pretending to be.  "Pete... Christ.  I don't... fuck."  He pulled the other boy into his arms.  "Jesus."  He breathed deeply.  "Can't do this to you, Petey... love you too much.  You're my baby."

 

"I always will be." Don’t lose it. Not yet. Hold on. "Always. Ya know? Cause we rock." He squeezed the hands around him, hugged him back, and let go. "I'll always love you. You're my best friend."

 

"Pete... I love you."  He squeezed the hands of his lover, and pushed himself to his feet.  "Bruce?"  Dick took the security chain off the door, and opened it.  "Come on in."

 

Bruce looked up... his eyes were shiny and wet, his hands were trembling. He slowly rose… very slowly, the cup in hand. "Thank you, for the coffee."

 

"Hi, Bruce." Pete offered a smile, while inside he was dying. "Its nice to meet the man of the voice."

 

"Its nice to meet you, Pete." Bruce shook his head, tightly, and turned his gaze on Dick for a long moment.

 

In two strides, he had him in his arms, crushing him tight to his body...holding him like he wasn’t ever going to let go. "I love you, Dick, I love you."

 

Dick wrapped his arms around Bruce's waist, fitting into the larger man's body like he was built for it.  His head fit on Bruce's shoulder, face fit into the curve of his throat, arms were just the right length to clasp in back.  "I love you, Bruce... I missed you, deep down." 

 

"Every night, sleeping in that big bed… I was so alone, and all I could think of is you… the way you cuddle next to me… love me just because you can. Because I’m worth it. And I love you, because...Dick, you're the most beautiful person I’ve ever known in my life."

 

He had to go. He had to leave. He had to get out of here. "So... I’m out, ya'll. Have fun." Pete wriggled his brows at Sam, smiled softly. "Call me, a'ight?"

 

Dick knew he should have pulled himself away from Bruce, but he couldn't.  Not out of the warm, strong arms that were holding him safely against his chest.  "I--I love you, Pete... I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"  He looked at his lover--friend--both--and ached, just a little inside, for the pain he knew Pete was going through.  "I wish..."

 

"No, you don’t." Another smile, and he squeezed his arm tightly before going to gather his things. "I'll catch you tomorrow. Bruce... take care'a my friend, eh?"

 

"I will." Bruce murmured softly, as he rocked his lover in his arms. It had been so long… and he loved him, so much. "I always will."

 

Pete slipped out of the door quietly, clicked it shut behind him… and he was crying before he reached the elevators. It was so hard to see, blinking through the tears that seemed to make themselves known on his face.

 

He slammed the stop button on the elevator and grasped the side of it...leaning into the cold metal and he let the sobs take him. Harsh, racking, male sounds of agony, and he banged at the metal… over and over.

 

Not yet. Pete, not yet. Get home. Not here. He's too close. Get out of here.

 

It hurt. So bad. Pain, unlike he'd ever felt, and it just... wasn’t... fair. There was no one for him. Nothing, nobody. Sam came and went...that man upstairs wasn’t even his Sam. Just a person who built up the lies. All the sex, all the cuddles, all the kissing and love and friendship he'd shared with him had been a lie. No one cared if he was alive. No one ever did. He was second best to everyone...there for people for a while, until something better came along. Like Clark, with Lex. Like Chloe, with Whitney. And now Sam, who wasn’t even Sam, with Bruce.

 

He straightened, chest heaving, and he pressed the floor button softly with wet fingers. No one would see him leaving. No one ever saw him at all.

 

He stepped out... head held high, chest vice tight. He had reached, finally, the bottom of the barrel. That was it. Scraping the mud off the bottom of the fish barrel. He was at ground zero.

 

It hurt, so, so badly.

 

Shayla was just walking around the corner of Sam's building.  She'd finally gotten tired of waiting to hear from Pete and Sam--well, Dick, but he'd always be Sam--so she took it upon herself to go over there. 

 

And the first thing she saw she did not like.  One little bit.

 

Pete.  And he looked like his world had just crashed down.  Didn't take a rocket scientist to fill in the blanks.  "Petey?"

 

Lies. All lies. The guy who'd taken his virginity, taught him how to love, now showed him nothing but pain, with a pat on the back and a 'tough break, kid'. All the nights spent hanging out, kissing, cuddling. Month after month...Christmas, thanksgiving. sex and love and it was...it was for nothing. Nothing.

 

No matter how much he loved someone, no matter how deeply he felt for someone… it never amounted to a thing.

 

Because he was Pete.

 

Shayla was actually now more than unhappy.  She was getting into the vicinity of "downright cranky" and she picked up her pace, running carefully across the slick sidewalks in her boots.  "Pete!!"  Not happy at all, because one of the three people in Smallville who was nice to her was not happy.  "Pete?"

 

He didn’t look up...but realized suddenly his car wasn’t here, and he had no way to get home.

 

It figured. He was Pete Ross. And how else would God have it, then for him to walk home in the snow with his broken heart?

 

Maybe he could get lost, and freeze to death.

 

"Leave me alone, Shayla."

 

"Hell no."  She finally caught up to him, and slid her arm through his elbow.  "Pete... come on.  Talk to me.  I mean, doesn't take a rocket scientist, but... I'm here." 

 

"No. I can't. Not here. He can still see." He whispered between hitching breaths, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as they walked. "Please. Not here."

 

"Okay... just answer me one thing... do I kick one ass or two?"  She squeezed his arm.  "C'mon.  We can cut back behind the hardware store, and come up on Hawthorne, which is just three over from the bus station."  She nudged his shoulder.  "I was bored, so I memorized the street maps."

 

Ass. Buried so deep in it… sharing quiet words of friendship and encouragement... making love over those warm sheets like two seasoned veterans.

 

He'd let that man inside of him... let him come inside of him, share his body in his, and the waves of pain were making his bright eyes tear again... making his elbows and knees tremble. Pete's voice, when he spoke, was rough and deep, dark, and it... he couldn’t... "None… Sh...Shayla."

 

And as soon as they turned the corner, he lost it.

 

The hold, tight as iron, let loose like water and he let out a sob, sinking to his knees in snow he couldn’t feel. Soft, aching sounds, and he buried his face in his hands.

 

"Oh, Jesus, Pete."  Shayla slid to her knees gently beside him, and wrapped her arms around his shoulder.  "C'mon, Pete.  Let's get in somewhere out of the cold."  Her hands rubbed his back, and she was kind of at a loss.  "C'mon."  She held him tight, rocking him.  "Pete... it's okay.  I'm here."

 

"He went back to him. Shayla, he went back to him." He wrapped his arms around her and brought her in, burying his face in her shoulder. "He went back... didn’t care, didn’t care about us, went back to him, it was for nothing, all for nothing, loved him so much and now its fucking shit, shit." He choked it, holding her as tightly as she would allow him to. "Nothing. Nothing."

 

"That's it... I'm kicking his pretty boy ass and Sam's too."  But she didn't move.  "Pete... c'mon.  I saw you guys together, and there was somethin' there.  Can't be faked, you know."  She pressed her cheek against his head.  "You guys... you and Sam--Dick--had everything that I've ever wanted."  She snuggled in close to him, offering her body heat to keep him warm.  "I'll go kick his ass and then talk to him."

 

"No. Shayla." He shook his head and let go of her, grabbing both her hands tightly in his. "No. Shayla, you c-can't. No. He... he's happy. Don’t take that away. Has history with Bruce...has nothing with me. Don’t.  Pl… please."

 

"Fuck that, Pete.  He had somethin' with you, and I'm not gonna let him get away with hurtin' my friend like that."

 

"He's in love." Softly, and his chin trembled as he leaned down and pressed her hands, still wrapped in his, against his forehead. "there's...there's nothing. He's… he's 21..he's in college. He lied. He lied...its ruined. Everything I loved about him was a lie."

 

Shayla left her hand on his forehead, dropping a light kiss there too.  "No, Pete... wasn't all a lie.  Don't know what all he told you about himself, don't know much, but I know what I saw, and what I saw was somebody that loved you."  She growled.  "I don't care how old he is or who's defending him, I'm gonna kick his ass and the pretty boy's ass too for doin' this.  You deserve better."  And that was her firm conviction; anybody who was smart enough to be her friend deserved the best.

 

"Lets just go. Come on. In case he… he comes down. He cant see me like this." Not that he'd give a fuck. "Come on." He climbed to his feet, and pulled her with him. "I'll take you home. My house is this way."

 

Shayla pulled in the other direction.  "Nope.  I'm takin' you home with me.  Know you don't like Lex much, but at least the house is big enough to hide out in.  Even if they show up, no reason you gotta face 'em yet.  The thing is, Dick knows to hunt for you at your house."

 

"He won’t hunt for me, Shayla." Softly. "He wont. I know him. He wont." Oh, fuck, he wanted to crawl up and die. "Gave him everything, Shay. My body and my heart... everything. Spent the last five months right next to him… hangin', eatin' pizza... makin' love. Now... its nothing. It was all for nothing. His past came looking for him, and he walked back wit open arms."

 

"Didn't look too open from where I was sittin', but I didn't see that much of it."  Shayla firmly wrapped Pete's arms around her waist.  "Pete.  Come on.  Give in.  You've got me now, and I'm not going to leave you alone, get it?  I can either camp out on your bedroom floor, or you can come hang out at AJ's with me for a few days, and I'm sure that you're okay."

 

He felt numb. Cold...lonely...numb. And depression, that he'd done his best to stem for so long, was becoming bright and ugly in his heart.  "S'long as I dont have to see Luthor."

 

"You won't," she said confidently.  "C'mon.  One foot in front of the other."  She wound her arms around his waist too, so that anyone walking by would think they were just another couple.  It felt kinda nice to have his cheek on her hair like that, and she refused to giggle.  "Did I tell you I'm gonna be a permanent fixture around here?" she asked, trying to take his mind off what he was feeling.

 

"No." His boots crunched in the snow...interesting feeling. Crunch crunch crunch. Along the salted road...the snow.

 

"Yeah.  Morgan's helping Graham and Mama look for a house."  She squeezed his waist.  "I'll be startin' school with you guys over in February."

 

"That’s nice." His voice was almost monotone... robotic. "You're a nice girl."

 

"Nah, I'm not a nice girl at all."  She nudged his shoulder again.  "Nice girls don't go around hitting on other people's boyfriends or husbands."

 

He blinked... looked down at her. "How can you say that? Of course you're a nice girl, Shayla." He squeezed her waist. "You’re beautiful... wonderful."

 

Shayla blushed.  "You're just sayin' that now cause you're not thinking straight," she said, coughing slightly.  "When you get your wits back about you, you'll see."  But she smiled at him anyway.  "I like you too."

 

"I’m broken hearted, not stupid." He murmured dully, and took her hand. "Shayla...Im going to get very drunk tonight. Are you sure you want me around?"

 

Shayla squeezed his fingers gently.  "m'sure.  Graham gets that way sometimes when he's missin' Melissa, so I'm used to it.  I'm also really good with hangovers.... aspirin, cold towels, and dark quiet rooms."  She leaned in conspiratorially.  "I even know where AJ keeps the good shit."

 

They got home in a half an hour. Shuddering, shivering. Pete had cried a little on the way home...but not much. It was still too soon.

 

So much to think about. The implication of this, his latest failure. He would always fail in life; everyone told him so. He was going to be nothing, nobody, and have nothing. Have no one.

 

The mansion was quiet...this home of the person he hated more then anything on the face of the earth. The person who'd been his best friend for as long as he'd been conscious had been ripped away by Lex Luthor.

 

It infuriated him. But he stayed mum. "Its quiet."

 

"Quiet is good," Shayla said, holding tightly to him.  Didn't like quiet Pete.  Didn't like Quiet Pete at all.  "C'mon.  We come in the kitchen, and we can duck up the side staircase.  My room's at the end of the hall."

 

"Okay." He followed her, his scuffed, wet shoes scuffing… and... wetting against the floor. He had her hand in his, and it had shocked him about how tiny her hands were. They seemed to get engulfed by his own. "Shayla… why do you paint your hair pink?"

 

She shrugged.  "Cause I like it.  It's me... it's kinda weird.  I wanted to go purple, but pink's more... girly."  She ran her fingers through it.  "I gotta wash it out tonight; got a special shampoo that washes it out so I can re-dye it in th'morning."

 

"What color is it underneath?" Softly, as he padded through the kitchen. The old maid was in there, finishing her cleaning, and he offered a little wave at her as he followed pinky. "Hi."

 

Ms. Bird's hands went to her hips, and she glared at Shayla as they snuck through.  "Chu vill get churself in trouble, young ladee!"

 

"C'mon, Ms. Bird... Pete's a buddy, know you know that."  She gave a charming smile.  "Can you send us up some orange juice?"

 

"Vhat is it vith this house and orange juice!  Help churself; there is plenty in fridge."  She threw her hands up in the air and disappeared, mumbling.

 

Shayla grinned.  "I'm blond, just like everybody else in the family."  She raided the fridge, and handed Pete two gallons of orange juice, and she snagged two tall drinking glasses.  "This way." 

 

"Orange juice? For--..oh." He smiled at Ms Bird a little. "I'll keep her virtue in tact, don’t worry." He took the gallons of juice in his arms, one in each hand, and followed pinky up the back steps. "If you're blond...then why do you keep dying it pink? I think it would look really nice blond, just as pretty as it is pink."

 

Shayla blushed a bright pink.  "Really?  Nobody's ever seen it blond before, except my family, that is."  She grinned at him over her shoulder.  "Come on, we're raiding AJ's stash."

 

"Something strong. Very, very strong." It was so quiet in the house… everyone must have been sleeping, or just settling down. The storm was set to begin at any minute, and Pete had been so glad he and Shayla had beat it.

 

He still thought freezing to death was a viable option.

 

"Is there something wrong with me, Shay?"

 

"I don't think AJ's got anything not strong."  Opening the door to the small half-cellar, she led the way into Lex's stock room--at least, that's how she thought of it.  There was enough alcohol to keep a bar stocked for a year.  "Um... how does Stoli strike you?"  She pulled down two bottles of the vodka, and then selected... "Whiskey.  If you don’t like it, I'll drink it."  When he asked, though, she set the bottles down on the floor, and took the gallons out of his hands.  "Pete... no.  Nothing's wrong with you.  At all."  She rubbed his cold hands between hers.  "You're... you're great."

 

"Right." He didn’t answer her, instead looking at all the alcohol, and a grim smile covered his face. "Pick one of each. I want the hard stuff."

 

Then a pause, and he glanced at her. "How would you know? You drink?"

 

"One of each?"  Shayla scoffed.  "C'mon... if three bottles doesn't do us, then I'll come back down for another round."  Then she looked up at him through her lashes.  "You've met my family, right?  Big, loud, Irish people?  I've been raised on watered down Irish whiskey."

 

"Three bottles for me, maybe." But he nodded, and picked up the cold gallons of juice again. "You sure? That theirs nothing wrong with me? How can you know? Every relationship...every friendship, people leave me high and dry when someone better comes along."

 

"Okay... so I'll take an extra vodka and whiskey for me."  She smiled at him.  "Honey... you wanna know how?  I'm just the most fucked up individual in the world, that's how.  And you don't care.  You're still cool with me, and you say nice things about me, and you even took me dildo shopping.  I mean... that's a cool guy right there."

 

"Hey....you like it? The dildo, I mean? It wasn’t a hundred bucks, but hey. For 45 dollars, we did pretty good." He hefted them again, putting one of the juices under his arm, and took a bottle for her. "Come on. Lets go crack these open."

 

"Hey... I love it."  She rubbed his shoulder, and then kissed his cheek, a little longer than she maybe should have.  "Yeah.  Let's go.  Hey... ice!"  She grabbed one of the ice buckets, and then opened the refrigerated chest and pulled out a bag of the perfectly square cubes and filled the bucket.  "Okay.  Now we're ready to go."

 

"And hey, Shayla? You’re not fucked up." A small shake of his head. "At all. Kay?" He nodded this, and shifted his cargo. "Fuck, doesn’t Lex have like a friggin carry basket or something? Shit.  Will ya look at that. Lex's ice cubes are as square as he is." He snorted.

 

"Um... hang on."  She dug around the room a little more, and yelped.  "Okay, so it's not exactly a basket," she said, brandishing the empty liquor box.  And then she tapped his calf with her foot.  "Hey... AJ's a lot of things, but he ain't square.  I'm gonna make you guys be friends, but... one thing at a time."

 

"Not just a cold day in hell, but the fucking devil is gonna give free sleigh rides before Im friends with him. Ain’t never gonna happen. Hate his fucking guts." He took the box from her and crouched, setting it on the floor.

 

Looked like the box that he and Sam had stashed Tequila away in.

 

Stab.

 

He set the juice bottles in...then the glass ones filled with liquor. Ice bucket, and he lifted it easily into his arms. "C'mon."

 

Shayla's eyes boggled.  "Wow... you're strong." She ran her fingers lightly over his bicep.  "Aaaah... deep, abiding hate.  Know that one."  She squeezed out past him, and brushed unintentionally against him as she led the way.  "Can you move it up one more little flight of stairs?  Cause then we'll be at my hall."

 

"Yeah. Lugged bigger things n' this." Sam, for instance. And Pete wasn’t completely stupid. He caught the little touches and smiles. Fuck. Fuck. Why the hell had he come? "Not just deep abiding hate, but complete loathing."

 

"Wow... what'd AJ do to you?"  She led him up the stairs, and then down the hall... past empty rooms to the one at the end that was hers.  "Okay.... it's kind of... girly."  She opened the door.

 

Everything in the room was almost as pink as her hair.

 

He almost choked. Damn. She'd been here a month, and she looked like shed been here a year. "Holy shit, girl. Did your magic marker explode'r somethin'? What’s with this fascination with pink?"

 

Shayla shrugged.  "Secret obsession.  Don't tell anyone that I'm so girly."

 

He smiled a little...as much as he could, and set the liquor on her bed. "Its cute. And hey, happenin' TV. AJ buy it for ya?" He motioned towards the television set sitting in front of the bed… and felt distinctly out of place, as if he turned wrong he'd break something.

 

"Nah, Morgan did, part of my Christmas present."  She giggled.  "C'mon, you're not gonna break anything in here, believe me.  I've got nothing breakable.  Believe me.  I'd have broken it already."

 

He grinned at her… and tugged the desk chair over to the bed. He took his coat off...his scarf and hat, and set them neatly on the chair as he flopped into it. "Wanna watch somethin? Maybe SNL or somethin'."

 

"Up."  She dragged him out of the chair, and lugged the box into the chair instead.  Pushing him onto the bed, she sat Indian style on the floor, and started pulling the stuff out of the box.  "Remote's on the table by the bed, and it's hooked up to cable and I lowjacked the porn channel."

 

Porn. Sam. Sam. Porn. Liquor. Porn. No. "N...naw. Why don’t we watch a movie'r somethin'? Not like we're gonna be conscious for it much longer."

 

Shayla winced.  "Fuck... I'm sorry, Pete."  She reached up and squeezed his hand.  "Sorry... just forget I said that, okay?  I keep thinkin' that you're just a guy, and not... you know, my friend Pete who deserves a shitload better than this."

 

"Naw...I mean, its cool." He turned and rolled onto his belly...kicking his shoes off under her lamp table before doing it though--last thing he wanted to do was mess her stuff up. His feet swung in the air as he took one of the bottles, took the foil off the top, and popped the cork like the seasoned veteran he was. He filled a glass for her...then one for himself, and tossed it back in a single swallow. Hissed...snarled...poured a second, did the same thing. His throat burned, his belly roiled...then a hot warmth spread through him, and he filled a third glass with a sigh.

 

Shayla sipped her first glass, reaching for the orange juice to dilute it as Pete went through his first--and second--glass.  "Pete... what can I do?"  Her voice was small and quiet.  "I don't like seeing people I like hurting."

 

He shook his head a little, laying his cheek on his hands and staring at the TV sideways. "Not much." Music videos. Christopher Walken bopped across the screen to Fatboy Slim, then Puddle of Mudd screamed about death and decay and...well, more death. News.... weather channel. "Look. The big black is right over us. Maybe its the cloud of karma Sam brought upon himself.  If you peer at it, its sitting right above his apartment, waiting for him to step out so it can strike him down where he stands."

 

"Not much would imply there's somethin'."  She moved up to the bed, sitting beside him but not touching him.  "I think he's gotta be the stupidest person on the face of the earth."  She got up and went to her dresser, and opened the bottom drawer.  Pulling out a white box, she held it out to him.  "Chocolate?"  She gave him a half smile.  "Life is like a box of chocolates, Pete... you never know what you're gonna get."

 

"Yeah." He took one...looked into his glass...dipped the chocolate into it...let it soak...then popped it into his mouth. And around a gooey yumminess, he stared at her and said, "Somehow, you took the most used line of the 90's and made it fresh and new."

 

She blushed, down to her bare toes.  "It's a skill," she said, and tried to convince herself that she wasn't squealing it.  "It always works to cheer me up... but then, I'm easy.  I love any chocolate."  And then another, brighter blush, as she realized just what she'd implied. 

 

He choked on the chocolate in his mouth...stared at her...then swallowed with a long swig of alcohol, and decided not to bring attention to it. Poor thing. Once you’ve had black, ain’t no goin back. Or so said those two bit comedic actors he thought were the most stereotypical human beings on the face of the planet. "Uh huh. Me too. Rocky Road ice cream, especially."

 

Shayla reached out and thumped his back for him.  "Jesus.  Um, sorry.  Just... you know, write it off to the fact that I seem to become a blithering idiot whenever you walk into a room."  Then she snickered.  "Clark and AJ both seem to have an addiction that.  Not me."  She made a face.  "I like Wavy Gravy."

 

He choked again, and wow, yeah, she was...uh huh. He coughed, swallowed another swig of his drink, and his eyes watered. "Shayla, stop while you're ahead sweetheart." He pat himself in the chest, blush igniting under his skin, and he rubbed his cheeks.

 

More thumping, and she nodded.  "Yeah.  You know, I think I'm just gonna shut up and drink and hope to Christ I don't embarrass you or me the rest of the night."  She turned so that her back was lightly propped up against his side.  "So what we gonna watch?"

 

He smiled a little, shook his head, and drained the glass. "They’re having Braveheart on channel 31... MTV shit on, you know, MTV… the news. Oh, n' some Chris Tucker movie.”

 

"Man sucks unless he's with Jackie Chan," she nodded.  "They kicked total ass in the Rush Hour flicks."

 

"Totally dig Rush Hour 2. Funny as shit, man." He nodded, and she was way too warm, and yeah, the alcohol was already singing in his blood. He rolled and stretched out on his belly again, reaching to the floor to fill another glass...straight up, not diluted. Just how he liked it. "Jackie Chan rocks. Me n' Clark usedta have marathons, n' watch all his movies."

 

"No way!  You gotta come over to my house once we get moved down here... Graham bought me almost all the movies he's got on DVD, and hell!!  There's a new one!  Shanghai Knights!  Let's you and me go see it when it comes out, wanna?"

 

"Yeah, that’s cool." Sam and I planned an entire weekend around it. "It looks good." A long silence....and Pete lay his forehead on his hands...and after a few silent moments, his shoulders shook softly.

 

Shayla put her drink down on the table, and then moved Pete's too and put her arms around his shoulder.  "It's okay, man... let it out."  She stroked the back of his head.  "Get it out, sweetie."

 

"It doesn’t fucking make sense, Shayla. It doesn’t make sense. Everyone I love leaves me."

 

"We've already established Sam's a fucking idiot," Shayla said quietly, still stroking his head.  "Nobody else is gonna leave you.  I'm not... you're stuck with me, Pete."  She hugged him tightly.

 

They lay like that for a long time. Her hugging him... him accepting it without words, until the sobs stopped, and he was just sniffling a little. He rubbed his face against his sleep, laying his cheek on her leg instead and curling up on the big bed as they watched the TV.

 

Shayla's heart broke for Pete at the same time her temper rose at Dickhead Grayson.  But she didn't say anything, didn't interrupt the quiet sniffles, just held him and let him rest against her.  "Ready for your drink again?"

 

"Yeah." Softly, as the Osbournes credits ran, and he sat up a little, wiping at his face with his sleeve discreetly as he reached over and nabbed his glass from the table. He pushed it up...let it roll down his throat...oh, god, yes.

 

Shayla quietly picked up the bottle and held it out for him as he emptied it.  "Here you go."  She didn't try to stop him from drinking, only because she knew it would make him drink more.

 

He nodded, made her fill it to the top, and sucked it down in another moment. Sixth glass, and he motioned for her to pour it. "C'mon." He was...well, slightly tipsy. "Gimme another one."

 

Shayla poured quietly, listening to the liquor slosh in the glass.  "Here you go.  See?  You can tell your bartender things you wouldn't tell your friends."

 

"I think you're beautiful." A nod. "I used to give my little brothers wedgies. Through everything he's done to me, Sam's still the love of my life." He raised his glass. "And me? I’m one fucked up mother fucker."

 

Shayla felt another blush creeping up her cheeks.  "I think you're handsome too," she said softly.  "And Sam... Sam loves you too, Pete.  Like I keep saying, I saw it. When you two guys were together in the car... it was like I wasn't even there.  Nobody else in the world was there but you two."

 

"'parently, love can go run in a lake and fuck itself, fer'll the good it did me." He took a sip of the liquor… hissed… and reached over the side of the bed for the other bottle of tequila. Sure, he might have stumbled a little, but his coordination was still up to par, thank you.

 

"Hey, no taking my job," she teased, and caught the bottle before he dropped it again.  She poured it into his glass, and kept him talking.  "I'm still all for going and kicking him and that pretty boy in the balls if you'll let me.  I got a pair of steel-toe shitkickers that Megan got me last year for my birthday."

 

He just shook his head, leaning a little against her as she poured, and sucked it down...yelping, snarling, hissing...before grunting. "Oh yeah. Lets watch porn."

 

"You got it."  She hugged him tightly.  "Gotta lock my door first, though. It's channel... 212," she said over her shoulder, sliding off the bed and fishing in her pocket for the cast iron key.

 

"Ya gotta lock?" He just snorted, and rolled onto his belly again, flipping the channels on the television until...212. "Ever watch it?"

 

"Yeah, the house comes equipped with locking doors."  She dropped the key on the night table, and sat back at the corner of the bed, her back leaning again against Pete's side.  "Yeah, I've watched it."

 

"Liar." He snorted at her, grinning as he sucked at some of the orange juice he added to his cup. "What ya watched for real, girly? Girl on girl action? Boy on boy? Oder'n me and Sam, course."

 

"I've usually just seen guys and girls, and then girls on girls while guys are watching."  She rested her hand on the small of his back as she turned around.  "You and Sam were the first guys I'd really seen together... I mean, I know I said that about my brother, but... you know, it's my brother.  No way I'd peek."

 

"Scare you? Ya looked freaked." he turned a glance over his shoulder blearily. "Wasn’t sure if I had... er not. And I don’t want to… you're so sweet a friend, ya know?" He nodded this, coughing softly as he lay his cheek back on his hand.

 

"No.  I wasn't freaked.  It was just... god, Pete.  It was hot.  You and Sam, you guys were just BEAUTIFUL together.  And... it was the first time I'd seen real, live sex.  Not porn or anything like that, but real love."  She lightly rubbed his back again.  "It was just... wow.  I was speechless."

 

"Love." A low, dark snort erupted from his lips, and he rolled over onto his back...looking up, surprisingly, at some actor nearly naked. "Yeah, Shay. That was love. He dumped me an hour and a half after Wayne came flyin' into town. What is it with rich white guys taking people I fucking love? Fuck!" He took a drink lying down… and had the results expected for someone drinking while lying down.

Shayla gently patted his shoulder.  "You talkin' about Clark?" she asked softly, rubbing.  "C'mon... I bet if you talked to Clark, you guys could clear the air."

"Clark cant see nothin' but Lex. Tried talkin' to him already. All he had was Lex this, Lex that. Fuck."

Shayla leaned over and kissed his cheek.  "He's in love," she said softly, cringing.  "He loves Lex; you love Sam.  It's all the same."  She kept rubbing his shoulder.  "It'll be okay, Pete.... it'll take time but it'll all be okay.  You still got your friends."

"It’s not gonna be okay." Softly, and he rolled over again...and landed with a dull thud on the ground, back first. He oomphed… darkly, then sighed.

Shayla peered over the side of the bed at him.  "Come on, get back up here."  She held out her hand.  "And yes, it will be okay, because I fucking well say so."

He couldn’t help it… he burst out laughing. Loud, obnoxious laughter… before a heavy sob broke from him, and he crawled up, just to curl into a tight ball on her lap. "That’s it, Shayla, that’s it. Its done."

"It's okay, baby... I'll make it okay for you."  Shayla wrapped her arms around Pete and rocked him.  "Let it out... I'll kick anybody's ass I gotta, nobody hurts my friends like this.  You just tell me, Pete, and I'll do it."  She tightened her grip around him, rubbing her cheek against his.

"Nothing." He whispered it, rubbing his face into her knee as he held himself tighter... voice thick with pain. "Nothing. Just hold me, for a while."

"I can do that," she said quietly, seriously.  She snuggled down into the bed, turning around just a little so that she could press her chest against his back, let him feel her holding him.  "I got you, Pete... I'm right here."

"Thank you." He whispered softly, ever so softly… then didn’t say anything else.

Because he'd passed out, stone cold drunk.

Shayla peeked down at him after a few minutes, and smiled sadly.  He was out.  Dead to the world.  "Oof.  Lay off the beef, Pete," she whispered quietly, tugging him up to the pillow at the top of the bed, and rolling the blanket over him.  She turned the TV back over to the alt rock station, turned the volume down, and curled up behind him, tucking her arms around his waist.  "I'll hold you all night long," she whispered quietly, kissing his ear and pulling the blanket around her as well.

-fin-

 

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