A loud crash filled the tiny house, shaking the rafters. Cecil jerked awake and went into a combat roll, forgetting he was on his narrow cot, not the floor. A short span of the free-fall feeling seemed to make the bottom of his stomach disappear, then abruptly was cut off by the thick, hardwood floor of the attic.

"Ow," he grumbled and sat up, rubbing the back of his head ruefully. A thin, wispy white-silver smoke drifted up through the floorboards of the attic. Hurriedly the seventeen-year-old rolled to his feet and stumbled down the stairs.

From the kitchen doorway where his attic staircase ended he could smell the burning food. Acrid smoke burned his eyes and lungs. Of course, it’s Tuesday—Tanner’s day to cook breakfast. Damn, but why does Matt’s boyfriend have to cook? He’ll poison us one day… But no, Cecil’s uncle had wanted his boyfriend to learn everything there was about a domesticated, middle class home instead of the rich snobbish mansion where Tanner had grown up. Which meant early morning cooking lessons. Cecil groaned.

Barely he could make out the tall, lithe form of Tanner, scooping up a pan that was holding some burning, formally-edible food-like substance and dropping it into a sinkful of sudsy water. A loud hissing sound echoed the earlier crash and more smoke and steam filled the room.

"Dammit, Tanner, what are you doing?" he heard his uncle roar from the hallway. Cecil waved the pungent haze from his stinging eyes and saw Matt stumble through the smoke screen wearing his typical early morning terry cloth robe in soft blue and the Ninja Turtles slippers. His moppy black hair still wet from the shower he’d been pulled from, Matt was rubbing a fluffy red towel to it and muttering curses.

Immediately the other man cowed and bowed his head. "I’m sorry, love, I just… it was my day to cook, and… I thought…" The fire alarm started shrilly beeping which startled the young man into jumping back nearly on top of the hot stove. An ear-splitting shriek filled the air as he jumped away from it, cradling his hand to his breast.

"Tanner!" Matt dropped the towel and pulled his distraught lover into his arms, soothing his frazzled nerves. "It’s all right, love, come on. Let’s get some ice on that hand." As he walked Tanner out to the garage to the deep-freezer where most of the ice was kept, he tossed over his shoulder, "Heya, Cecil, can you take care of some of the smoke while I take care of Tanner? I’ll be in to help in a sec."

"Yeah, sure." Moodily the youth snatched up the fallen towel and began fanning the alarm until it stopped beeping, then opened all the windows and turned on the fans to circulate the air. Let Matt and Tanner take care of the mess. I’ll just get the air breathable and get ready for school. That done, he called the fire department and reported the false alarm, then ran back up to his attic-bedroom.

The room was sparsely furnished at best. He sighed and stalked over to the ornate cedar trunk at the base of his cot. After a few moments of rummaging around in the chest, he came out with a ratty pair of black jeans and a soft, worn black shirt, which he tossed on his bed. Soon Matt would take him shopping, and he could be rid of his old clothing, his last tie to his painful past.

Dark memories flooded his mind and he shuddered as he stripped from his brown fleece pajama pants and tank top. Forget about it, Cecil, he ordered himself silently. Just let it be, and live in the future. You have two parents now who love you—even if they both are male. Nothing wrong with that, now is there?

Nope, nothing at all. He pulled the raggedy clothing over his chilled body to hide the scars from his own view. Well-mended tears barely showed on the fabric—he was grateful. He thrust his legs into the jeans and was just zipping the fly and buttoning them up when he heard his uncle at the base of the staircase.

"Come on, pea-cock," came the cheeky voice. "Breakfast, then off to school."

Cecil grabbed a pair of socks and tennis shoes and tromped down the stairs hurriedly. If Matt was cooking, breakfast would at least be edible. Then he could go be out of here for a bit, even if here was better than there…

"Hey, Cec, have you seen Ross this morning?" Tanner called from the table where he was icing a shiny red burn that stretched from the heel of his hand to the tip of his middle finger and everywhere in between. "Usually he’s here before you’re even up."

Ross isn’t here? I hope he’s okay… "No, I haven’t." Cecil helped himself to cold cereal.

He carried the bowl out to the tiny living room and plopped down on the couch, careful not to spill the food on his clothes. They were his only clean set; need to do laundry, he reminded himself. The remote to the television sat on top of the cable box, and he was feeling too lazy to get up and get it, so he left it there and sat in the silence, eating his cereal.

Suddenly cool, smooth hands covered his eyes, the gentle pressure on his closed eyelids urging him to play along. "Guess who?" came a pleasantly teasing voice.

Cecil smiled and blindly set the bowl on the table in front of him. "Ross."

"Poo." Ross launched himself over the back of the couch and settled beside his friend and snatched up the other boy’s breakfast, helping himself. "You always get it right," he complained good-naturedly.

Cecil only laughed and stood to get himself another bowl of cereal. As he walked behind the couch he pushed Ross over, spilling the now-soggy Cornflakes.

"Hey!" he heard Ross’s indignant shout as he pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. "I was eating that!"

Tanner looked up. "Ross here?"

"Yeah, gotta run. Bye, Dads." He waved and picked up his bag.

"Heyla, Cecil!" Matt’s voice caught him off guard. Cecil stopped with his hand on the door and turned around.

Matt stood behind his love, one arm wrapped protectively around Tanner’s shoulders. Tanner laid his blond head back on Matt’s chest trustingly. They look so cute together, the teenager thought as he shifted the bag on his shoulder uncomfortably. "Yeah?"

"If it gets to be too much at that school…" Matt began, and his voice drifted off.

"Call us," Tanner finished for him. "You don’t have to face this alone—"

"Or all in one day," Matt added.

Cecil just nodded and pushed his way into the living room. He pushed Ross again. "Come on, jerk-face, let’s go."

"After you, snub-nose." Ross rolled gracefully to his feet and followed Cecil out the door.

Tanner sighed as he heard the front door close. He looked up at Matt. "What are we to do with the boy, love?"

The other man only shrugged. "We’ll work our way through it, somehow. Come on, sweetheart, let’s get your hand bandaged up before it blisters." He took Tanner’s good hand in his own and led the younger man towards their bedroom.

"Are-are you still mad at me?" Tanner asked softly, hesitantly.

"Mad? Dear, I was never mad." Matt looked back at him lovingly. "I was worried about you is all, you spoiled brat." His voice held an affectionate timbre for the younger man.

Tanner smiled a little. "I love you too, you poor peon."

Ross rode on his skateboard alongside Cecil as the other boy walked. Ross studied his friend’s profile for a moment and nearly sighed. Cecil’s straight shoulder-length russet locks alternately hid and framed his vaguely triangular-shaped face as he walked. Shaded soft emerald green eyes hid pain and sorrow in their depths, Ross knew, but not from what. He was positive that Matt and Tanner had never laid a hand on their "son", but what of Cecil’s real mother and father? Ross’s appreciating gaze slid down his friend’s thin willowy frame. He did sigh and moved his gaze to the dull cement beneath the plastic black wheels on his board.

Cecil glanced up. "You okay, man?"

Startled at the sudden noise, Ross jumped and fell off his skateboard. The translucent bluish black fiberglass slid off the curb and into the gutter while the older boy was pitched into the soft mossy grass and hard, grainy cement. His head bumped the sidewalk as he landed, momentarily stunned. Blinking, he tried to clear his vision of the pretty white and silver sparklies. "Ow…"

The younger boy laughed and stood over Ross. "Klutz." He held his hand down to the other boy. Ross, considerably heavier than his friend, decided to get a little revenge, and instead of pulling himself up with Cecil’s assistance, he pulled the smaller boy down too. Cecil tottered on his feet, then fell on top of Ross, who rolled over and pinned his friend in the grass.

They blinked at each other, looking into one another’s eyes for a moment. For Ross, time seemed to stand still for that instant as he peered into Cecil’s soft green eyes. Hesitantly he reached up and traced his fingers down from the corner of Cecil’s left eye to his temple, gently pushing the red-black mane from his face.

Cecil stared up at Ross in mute startlement. He had never been sure if Ross was gay or straight—he always seemed to hit on the girls, but there was something different about him. Midnight black hair framed delicate features and shadowed golden-brown eyes filled with compassion and understanding. Ross was taller than Cecil by a good six inches, thinner by at least that much, and stronger by about twenty pounds of muscle. And yet the skin on his hands was soft and smooth, supple. Ross played lead guitar in a local band, No One, but the usual calluses were missing from his fingers.

Ross smiled gently at his friend and sat up, still straddling his hips. "You all right? Didn’t hit your head or anything?"

"No," Cecil whispered. "I’m fine."

The older boy nodded and rolled to his feet with the agility of a feline, holding his hand to his friend. "Come on, Cec, we’ll be late for school."

Cecil took the offered hand and pulled himself shakily to his feet. Ross retrieved the skateboard from the street and pushed off from the sidewalk, easily balanced on the board. Cecil shook his head and began walking after his friend. In the distance the school bell rang, signaling the beginning of class.