“Gio Belvedere!”

Even the sidewalk seemed to gasp as reporters clambered up the steps of the courthouse, calling out their stations, throwing questions at them both without hesitation. Microphones were shoved in their faces, and Evan held his hand up in defense. Seriously, those things could poke an eye out, and he’d had enough damage to his eyesight that morning, staring at that hack of a prosecutor and his over-sized suit.

“Is it true you left a note to your sister, confessing the embezzlement?!”

“The majority of New York believes you’re guilty, Mr. Belvedere!”

“Do you have any words in your defense?!”

Pushing one of the microphones out of his face, Evan motioned for the reporters to step aside as his most troublesome client was hustled to his car by his overpaid bodyguards. “My client has no comment, except to say that the allegations against him are ludicrous and false.”

“Mr. Brenkan!” Another one started in, this time on him. “Is there any truth to the rumors-”

“None whatsoever.”

“Awe, c’mon, Evan!” Gio called over his shoulder, million-dollar grin lighting his face. “You could at least find out which ones.”

“Just get in the car!” He called back, shaking his golden hair from his eyes.

His client laughed, sliding into the BMW and holding the door open for him. “Some of them are true, you know.”

“Oh, for the love of-” Pushing through the swelling crowd, he jostled past photographers and made a beeline for the running car. Jumping into the backseat, he sighed heavily as he leaned back against the neck-rest, mentally cursing the media and his childhood friend. “Next time, can we at least take the back exit?”

“But Viktor likes the pretty camera-girl in blue. You can’t keep a man from his heart’s desire, Ev, that’s just cruel.” Said friend, who’d been more of a pest as of late, leaned over the front passenger seat to smile at the driver. “Did you get her digits, Viktor? Because, seriously, I definitely think she’s into you.”

“Huh?” Viktor turned back toward him, a slightly dazed look across his features.

Evan rolled his eyes. Gio’s goons didn’t have the brains to recognize a crush if they ever had one. “He’s not even awake.”

“He’s love-struck, Ev! The pain in his bleeding heart is making him lose focus on the rest of the world. Can’t blame a guy for that, can you?”

Snorting sarcastically, Evan shoved the long-haired Belvedere back into his seat. “I’m so glad he’s driving.”

--

Evan Brenkan was considered one of the most rebellious lawyers in New York. It worked for him.

He was a decent guy, never did anybody wrong if he could help it. Gave his change to the Salvation Army every Christmas and paid all his bills on time. He lived comfortably, safely. He was a Philadelphia lawyer in the past, one of the best, and everybody knows what they say about Philadelphia lawyers. But before all that, he’d been a stupid six-year-old kid in an addict-infested playground, ten-thirty at night because his parents were screaming again and his siblings were all doing their own thing.

Gio Belvedere was six too, and his mom had just moved them in next-door. They were in row-houses, and the walls were paper thin, so he could hear her move around her bedroom every morning. He woke up to her shower. And when she called Gio to get up for school, he rolled out of bed as well. He was in love with her, because her hair was long and curly black, and her eyes were wide and blue. She looked like snow white, except much prettier.

That night he’d been hiding out in the playground, tired and trying not to fall asleep. He heard a door slam across the street and thought it was his dad leaving for the night, which happened sometimes. But when he looked back, he saw a black-haired boy with the gem green eyes, heading his way with an exasperated frown. He was on the monkey bars, so he let himself drop down. He’d never spoken to him before, but he knew well enough just who he was.

About ten feet away, right before the sandbox, he stopped and gave him a half-mean look. “Can you please tell your mom and dad to shut up?”

“They don’t listen to me.” He kicked a plastic wrapper and watched it float away. “Besides, I’m not supposed to say that anyway.”

“What? ‘Shut Up’?” With a dramatic sigh, Gio followed him up onto the platform and joined him on the monkey bars. “My mom lets me say it. I say it all the time.”

“I’m not allowed.”

“I’m not allowed to say other stuff, but I say it anyway, because when you know what it means it’s okay.”

“Like what?” He asked, swinging off the last rung and hitting the ground with ease.

“Um...” Gio paused, landing as well and pushing the dark hair from his eyes. “Like, being pissed off means you’re really, really mad. And a whore is a lady who kisses for money.”

“Oh.” He nodded, really interested, because his parents said that stuff all the time but he never understood it. And he kind of thought it was funny, because they were just words, but grown-ups always got so mad when you said them. But they’re really not bad or anything. Just... different. Like a different language, only not.

--

“She was so hot for you.”

“She’s a juror. She’s supposed to stare at lawyers like she’s actually listening.”

“Yeah, but she was.” Gio smiled, laying a too-cool arm over his shoulder and smiling at the world like it was just the way everybody did things. “She was actually listening. I’m telling you man, she digs you. If you don’t jump outta the closet lookin’ like Carmen Miranda, she’ll be eating out of your hand.”

“Shut up!” He blustered, shrugging the arm off his shoulder and sending him a malicious grin. “Cross-Dressing was your idea, man. You’re the one we should be worried about.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who did it.” Not taking no, Gio dropped his arm over his shoulders again, brushing through the doors of the law office like it was a swanky club or some upscale restaurant. As though he expected to be served. As he passed the reception desk, leading Evan through the waiting area, he laughed at memories from the party so long ago. “Fucking hilarious. With the four-inch heels and the fishnets- Oh fuck, you got so drunk!”

“I-!”

“Dude, you gave Mike Donner a lap-dance!”

“Well, that must’ve been interesting.”

Heart slamming into his throat at high speed, Evan stopped and turned sharply, coming face-to-face with the one person he’d hoped Gio would never meet.

Stephan Kale was tall and thin with white blond hair and a knock-out smile. His suits were always crisp and his hair was always combed, perfect and perfect and perfect. Never a button left undone, never a shoe untied. He stood, in every way, like a god among men. And Evan was in love with him, because of all those things and more. He was smart, creative, resourceful. His business was among the top ten in the country. He liked to ski and climb mountains, swim and hike. He liked going to the theater and seeing little one-act plays nobody’s ever heard of. He liked building things in his spare time, furniture or toys for his nieces and nephews. He could play the guitar.

He was so beautifully perfect, and why in all this great wide world did God have to shove Gio at him before he could work up the courage to make a fucking move?

“Stephan.” He smiled in greeting, reaching out to shake his hand and wishing he were dead. “Glad you could make it in today. I’ll-”

“-It was interesting, actually.” Gio butted in before he could get them away from each other. He could already see it starting. “Gio. Belvedere.”

“Stephan Kale.” He smiled his perfect smile and it just made matters worse. Because then came Gio’s perfect smile, and they were smiling at each other now, and oh fuck it all, he was never going to make a move anyway. “You’re the one they want for embezzlement.”

“You’re the one they want for insurance fraud.” Grinning wide, Gio took his hand and shook it. “Lemme tell ya, you’re in good hands here.”

“Oh, I know.” Stephan’s smile grew and he patted him on the shoulder, making him feel ten times better about this meeting. “We’ve worked together several times. Evan’s an excellent lawyer.”

Raising an eyebrow at the use of his name, Gio shot Evan a look and nodded. “Best in New York.”

“If you’ll excuse us...”

With an apologetic smile, the lawyer pushed his friend and client into his office and shut the door behind them. When he turned to face Gio, he found him grinning ear-to-ear, checking out the vague outline behind the frosted glass. “Dude!”

“I know. Shut up.” Sighing heavily, he turned his back to the grinning Belvedere and tried to forget all about it. “When you fuck him, let me know.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Seriously, let me know, because that’ll make twelve. And at fifteen I start throwing them at you the second I find them attractive.”

“You never told me you wanted Ryan Walton. He doesn’t count.”

“I was dating him for two weeks before I caught you-”

“Dude, he was bad anyway. His dick was like a roll of dimes. I took one for the team on that one.”

--

The day Gio Belvedere came out of the closet was the worst day of Evan’s life. Ever.

He remembers it as though it happened just yesterday, but even more vividly he remembers the night before. When he made a grievous mistake, the kind that make you regret the day you were born.

“In history today, oh man, I swear to God he looked right at me.” He’d been mooning over it all day long, remembering every fleck and pale blue shade in Owen Barren’s eyes. Gio had listened the whole time. Avidly.

See, he had no choice. It was the day before Valentine’s Day, and he was in the middle of a Belvedere Crisis. He was hot for somebody who wouldn’t look at him twice. Something that had never before happened in the land of Jesson High. Gio Belvedere always got his girl. It was just a matter of when. But this one had him stumped. So, he’d brought his sorry ass to the home of his unspeakably unpopular best friend and generously offered to buy him cheese fries if he could figure out a way to get said chick to give him an honest chance.

“And he smiled. You know, that smile he always gives me, the one with no teeth...”

“And you then decided to transform yourself into a record on repeat.”

“Shut up.” He’d decided to needle him then, being in the rare position to do so. “If your girl ever glanced in your direction, you’d be the same way.”

“No I wouldn’t.” His hair, long even then and tied back with a blue hair-band, swayed over his shoulder and in the way as he leaned over to see what he was doing. “Because I get glances all the time. For you, it’s a once in a life-time event.”

“Who wouldn’t stop to stare at your ugly face?”

“Dude, what’re you doing?” Gio asked, picking up the Starbursts they’d bought on the way home. “What’s with the candy?”

“The candy’s your in. We’re making flowers.” Evan smiled determinedly, dropping the first one in the microwave and setting it for ten seconds. “Roses.”

Scoffing, Gio stared at the yellow Starburst now slowly turning ‘round and ‘round in the microwave. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.” He smiled a little and took the piece out of the microwave, bringing it to the table to unwrap. “Mom made me do a zillion of them for Leah’s birthday party.”

“Oh, the one you spent at my house getting pounded-”

“You fucking cheated.” He glared, pulling a piece off the half-melted Starburst and rolling it between his palms.

“‘Scuse me, getting squashed in Super Smash Bro-”

“I lost because you grabbed the fucking Kirby Mallet, you asshole.” Glaring hard, he smacked the piece into a flat circle on the table and started the other half. “You weren’t supposed to. We agreed, no fucking Kirby Mallet.”

Laughing good-naturedly, he leaned back in his chair and brushed his hair back over his shoulder, shooting him a thousand watt smile. “What now?”

“See what I’m doing?” He asked, smacking the second piece down on the table. “Grab another yellow one and two orange ones. Put the yellow one in the microwave and do what I just did when it’s done. Same with the orange ones. Got me?”

“Yeah, okay.” Gio nodded, taking the candy off the table. “Your mom’s fuckin’ crazy.”

“I know.” Evan nodded, thinking back on the first night he’d tried. Disaster, burnt his fingers and everything. But he’d had the bouquet done by morning, sure as hell, because his mother could be mean as a snake when she was displeased. “When we’re done, though, it’ll blow your girl away.”

“Alright.” The candy moved in circles and when the timer went off Gio gave it a hard look before taking it out. Cursing loud and colorful, he dropped it on the stove and slid away fast “Fuck, Dude!”

“I know.” He dead-panned, picking it up off the stove and tearing off the wrapping. “Just...”

By the time he was through with it, Gio had made two roses, and Evan had made ten. They rolled green flavored tootsie-rolls together to make stems and leaves that didn’t come out right (they looked more like lemons). Then Evan tied them all up in a bow and stuck them in a plastic bag.

“That looks so cool.” Gio smiled, taking the plastic from his calloused fingers and clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

“You owe me cheese-fries.”

“Yeah, I know.” He grinned wide, considering it a done deal. “So, what’re you doing tomorrow? Gonna send Owen a valentine?”

“I dunno...” He thought a moment, considering the latest gossip. “I heard he and Tom are on outs.”

“Fair game.” Gio swung the flowers into his backpack.

Smiling a little, Evan leaned against the doorway and thought about it for a moment. “Maybe I will.”

Gio stopped, half-awkward and poised outside his door. “You will? Seriously?”

Wondering if he had any time to think of something, he continued to plan it as he replied. “Sure. Why not?”

Stepping backwards down the steps, he quirked an elegant eyebrow as he shouldered his backpack a little further up. “You’ll never do it.”

He laughed a little, hanging on the doorframe as he watched Gio walk away. “Sure I will. Just watch me.”

The next day when Evan got to history class, a dozen Starburst Roses were found on Owen Barren’s desk, with a note signed by Gio Belvere. The entire school knew about it before he did, and by third period Owen had asked him to “hang out” after school. Gio went for it.

Evan didn’t speak to him for two weeks until he bought him cheese-fries and a super-sized Coke from Lucky Pat’s, brought them straight to his door and thanked him for earning him the best sex he’d ever had in his whole teenage life.

He crossed his crooked heart and swore he’d never do it again.

--

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, So Help You God?”

“I Do.”

“Be seated.”

Gio folded his hands into his lap, pressing his fingers into the crisp black of his suit. His eyes hit Evan, full of secret mirth as they always were, and he had to fight not to smile at the man who looked so serious. The man who was twiddling his pen between his fingers, the way he used to twiddle chopsticks before he learned how to use them. He always found it funny when Evan tried to look serious in front of him. It never worked, not when he could always picture him in that Carmen Miranda outfit...

“Gio Belvedere.” Evan rose from his seat, smiling a little at him and then losing the smile for the jury. “You’re pretty well-known around here, right?”

One of the cops on the other side of the room snickered. Gio didn’t bat an eye. “Guess so.”

“I mean, I know you.” Evan smiled, nodding at the jury as if to say, I sure do... “I know you very well. We’ve been friends for years, haven’t we Gio?”

“Objection!” The tool of a prosecutor, Tawdry, shot from his seat looking ready to spit. He’d obviously worked against Evan before. Usually his friend didn’t make people so nervous until after he crushed them. “Relevance?”

“Your honor, I feel the jury should know I have a personal relationship with my client that goes beyond that of Defendant and Defense Attorney.” He shot the judge an apple-pie smile. “For the integrity of the case.”

Judge Esther Kopenitz, a fifty-four-year old crab-apple with a hard-earned reputation for smelling rats, was unused to being smiled at so genuinely. She smiled back. “I’ll allow it.”

Tawdry the Tool sat back down, looking irritated. Evan beamed and continued on.

“Now, Gio,” He stalked toward the bench, looking happily mischievous. “You’ve been in this seat before, haven’t you? I mean, we both know you’re no saint.”

“Objection!” Tawdry got back up again, girth shaking like Jell-O.

“Withdrawn.” He waved an elegant hand over his shoulder, flippantly ignoring the wrath in Tawdry’s eyes. “Now, Gio, you know what you’re accused of here, don’t you?”

A little smile came to Belvedere’s lips as he leaned into the microphone, eyes flicking from Evan to the jury. “Stealing money.”

“Stealing eight-point-three million dollars.” He leaned toward the jury a little. “That’s a lot of money, is it not?”

“Sounds like a lot to me.” He shrugged toward the jury, putting on an endearing smile.

Evan raised an eyebrow toward the jury. “Trust us, Gio. It’s a lot.”

The room snickered a little, and Judge Esther cracked a smile.

“Now, Gio,” He grinned a little as Evan closed in on the bench, leaning on the edge toward the microphone. “You know who the money was stolen from, right?”

“My step-father.” Belvedere sighed, looking bored. “Harry DeBiancci.”

“Harry DeBiancci.” He quirked an eyebrow toward the jury again. “You mean the trillionaire king-pin who runs half the city’s underground, right?”

“Objection!” The Tool Named Tawdry stood up again.

“Will you please sit down?” Esther asked, coldly glaring in the prosecutor’s general direction.

Gio felt himself grin. Oh yeah, this was a lock.

--

The wedding was stiff, full of pomp and circumstance as every celebration would be thereafter. Gio was seventeen, too young to drink, but nobody was stopping him. Except Evan, the good influence, blond hair all slicked into a studious do that was hardly worth it. His date, the Steady Freddy of the hour, murmured something in his ear as he walked past. Lately it’d been harder and harder to get him alone. Probably because of last month.

Taking another sip of dry champagne, he found his way through the crowd toward his best friend. Who immediately swiped the drink from his fingers.

“You’re not going to get trashed here.”

“Halfway there already, man.” He smiled a little, sweeping rebellious black waves out of his face. “And I gotta say, you’re getting prettier by the minute.”

“I’m not pouring you into a taxi at your mother’s wedding.” He set the flute on a passing tray and took a mini-quiche. “Here. Eat something.”

“Not hungry.”

“Just eat it, pussy.”

Lifting the quiche to his lips, he paused as his new step-father laid a doting hand on his mother’s frail shoulder. He kissed her cheek like he loved her, like he was really happy to be with her. A buzzing frustration twisted in his gut and he chose to ignore it as he reached for another glass. Evan, the little bitch he was, took it from the tray before he could get it. And downed it himself, coughing on the bitter taste.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” Glaring a little, he reached for the empty glass and watched his friend drop it on the tray. “Just gonna buzz-block me all night?”

“Sure. If it keeps you half sober.”

“You’re a brat.”

The boyfriend came back around, brushing his knuckles along the small of Evan’s back as he eyed Gio with possessive annoyance. Something about the move made him bristle, thumb and index finger nearly crumbling the quiche. “Hey, what’d I miss?”

“Nothing.” Evan’s eyes move to the other man swiftly, lighting with confident admiration. “Rick, this is a friend of mine. Gio, this is Rick. He’s my date.”

“Gio Belvedere.” The guy’s lips curled with natural disdain. “I’ve heard a lot about you, man.”

Gio’s lips curled back. The guy’s an ass, he could already tell. He wanted to start a fight so bad he was itching for it. But he never starts violent shit with Evan’s boyfriends. Starting a fight would make him look like the only bad guy around. And yeah, Evan’s taste sucks, and he’s resolved to help him figure that out before he winds up broken-hearted. Or, you know, more so than usual. It’s not like he can just let him get cozy with a snake.

So, he’d resolved to protect him the smartest way he knows how.

Lips opening to accept the quiche, he smiled charmingly at Rick and reached a hand out to shake. “Rick. Wish I could say the same.”

The man’s possessive eyes dissipated. Evan’s face fell.

He didn’t even look surprised to find them in the bathroom stall together. Almost like he was waiting for it.

--

The courtroom’s press seats were in the back, and Gio felt entitled to the best in the house: front row center. So he sat down next to his old friend Tony, a reporter for the Sunday Times, and gave all the photographers a nice view of his smile.

Leaning over his armrest, Tony gave him an incredulous look. “Don’t you have your own trial to worry about?”

“That would imply I’m actually worried.” Eyes refusing to leave the figure on the stand, despite the eager whispers or the journalists around him. All of them trying to get his attention, ask him questions. He hates reporters. Except Tony. Tony’s cool, because when he wants to ask you something he doesn’t bullshit. He knocks on your door with pizza and beer, watches TV with you for an hour, then talks to you man to man. He’s still not sure whether it’s an actual tactic or not. Either way, the result was a shallow friendship that cooled in the off-season and warmed right up again whenever Gio got a little lonely.

“You’re not worried?” He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Of course not. You’re Gio Belvedere. Nothing can touch you.”

“I don’t know about that.” Smirking a little, he leaned back in his chair and watched Stephen Kale deny his financial woes, white-blonde hair neatly combed into place. “Why don’t you try?”

“‘Cause whippin’ out your dick in a courtroom is begging for an indecency charge.”

“You’re no fun anymore.”

The judge banged her gavel, adjourning the session for the day. Reporters buzzed around Evan, Stephan, and Gio. They couldn’t decide what was more interesting; his presence or his interest in the defendant. Evan, on the other hand, looked like he’d like to throw a couple punches his way.

Stephan walked past the reporters and reached out a hand to shake. “Gio. Good to see you again.”

“Likewise.” Gio smiled wide. “Just here to watch. Don’t mind me.”

“Evan was brilliant, wasn’t he?” Stephan beamed over his shoulder at the light-haired beacon of frustration. The man looked humiliated. Flushed, eyes to the floor. “His closing was absolutely amazing.”

“It was.” Gio looked away from his friend, refusing to watch his face as the inevitable set in. “Do you like Chinese food?”

“Love it.” Stephan’s smile widened. “There’s a place around the corner-”

“The Peking Duck’s fantastic there.”

His hand touched the sleeve of his blazer with expert charm. He could feel Evan’s eyes, hard and hot on his face. He tried to keep smiling and only wound up looking toward the door.

“Let’s have lunch, shall we?”

“Let’s.”

--

The day Evan left for college, Gio was a nervous wreck. But he couldn’t fathom why, and he didn’t really want to know. He just wanted to fix it so he could feel somehow normal again. And that’s why he skipped a date to help him pack. Well, that, and Evan might’ve mentioned his mother’s blueberry pie.

“Are you serious?” He raised an eyebrow, picking through his best friend’s closet like the thief he was. No way was he getting that Zeppelin shirt back. “Dude, you have shit in here you haven’t worn since sixth grade.”

“What?” Evan looked up, incredulous. “You’re kidding.”

Reaching into the back, the black-haired nuisance yanked out a yellow t-shirt, emblazoned with the Hanson brothers and their logo.

His eyes widened and he looked like he might bowl over right there. “Oh, Holy Shit!”

“Man, I wore this!” Gio laughed with him, stretching the hem tight between his fists. “Remember? Halloween ‘97, when I dressed up like you. With the Nikes and the fucked up-”

“-Baggy jeans.” The blond finished, dropping the books he was backing into the box and heading over.

The shirt was so old it looked like it would rip apart if he tried to put it on. Not to mention, the thing was half his size. But he took it and folded it neatly, setting it on the bed to stare at in half-shock, half-amusement. “I can’t believe I used to listen to those guys.”

“You thought Taylor was hot.”

“Dude, I did not!”

“Yeah, you did.” Gio smirked wide. “You thought he was hot, and I secretly lusted after Zack, and nobody liked Isaac because he was a freak.”

“You secretly lusted after Zack Hanson?”

“What can I say?”

Evan sighed, kicking past the other boxes and heading back for his books. After all the packing they’d done so far, they still had all the CDs and the posters and the-

Gio’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who’s this?”

Evan blinked, looking up, then pursed his lips as he looked down. “Who’s what?”

They were in a jacket’s pocket, and he pulled them out as he took it off its hanger. Pictures. He couldn’t believe it. The stupid string of photo-booth pictures felt hot and heavy in his hands as he stared at it in wonder, asking himself why the hell he had to find this today. “The guy in these pictures with you.”

“Um... Gordon.” Evan didn’t look up. Gio did. In fact, he looked up so fast he nearly jerked his neck back.

“Who’s Gordon?”

“This guy I’m seeing.”

In retrospect, it might not have been a good idea to press further. He did anyway. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re seeing somebody?”

“You would’ve...” Evan bit his lip and looked down again. He didn’t have to say anymore, Gio got it loud and clear.

Dropping the pictures on he bed, he headed over to his friend and tried to quell the sudden shakes in his hand. “Is that the kind of guy you think I am?”

But then Evan surprised him.

He reached out and took his hand, clasping both his palms around it and holding on like it was somehow precious to him. The black-haired boy took a breath, stunned as the shaking fell away into the warmth of Evan, the warmth that came from being around, so close, but never actually... touching this way. A beat meant just for this moment pounded in his heart, loud and clear, so loud he thought his friend might’ve heard it.

And for a moment, he realized he couldn’t remember ever feeling his heartbeat before. Or his nerves wake at the heat of a touch.

“I think...” Evan looked down at their hands, so comfortably together. “You’re my best friend. And I’m gonna miss just... hangin’ like this. But there’s a bad side to us, man. And I don’t wanna think about it when we only got an hour before I don’t see you ‘til Christmas. Okay?”

Something inflated in his chest, making him feel light and hollow at the same time. All he could do was nod.

Evan’s hands fell away a minute too late. “Hey, throw my walkman in with the CDs, alright?”

“Where is it?”

“It fell under the bed. With the rest of that box you dropped earlier.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you tripped me.”

“Did not!”

“Did too! Hanson Lover!”

--

One of the best things about eating lunch with Stephan Kale was the way he could drop charm like it was loose change and wheedle information out of Gio just as easily. It was like having lunch with a blonder, less suspicious version of himself. Like dining with a worthy adversary.

Gio had made the first move, setting the reservation under his name and getting them a table in the back. A round booth, which made it impossibly cozy. But then Stephan turned the tables, ordering a bottle of the most expensive wine on the menu and placing it on his tab. The charm flew back and forth, airless and shallow, until the wine was served and they had nothing left to praise.

Taking a small sip, Belvedere smiled wide and leaned in. “So...”

Stephan set his glass down. “So.”

Leaning on the table, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear and looked up into his eyes. They seemed so cool, so effortless. “I like you.”

The blond quirked his lips into a smile, fingers dropping down to drift over his fork. “I can see that.”

“I’d really like to take you home,” He let his hand fall to the stem of his glass. “Show you how much.”

“Gio, listen...”

His brow crinkled, fingers tightening around the glass. He knows that tone. He’s used that tone. What...?

“What?” He heard himself ask, slightly awkward.

“I do like you.”Stephan looked down at his salad, not wanting to face him. “I really do. You’re a great guy. But I...”

What...?

He can’t be serious...

“Evan, he...” Smiling a little as he thought, Kale leaned on the table and sighed. “He fascinates me. I talk to him, and it’s like talking to someone I’ve known forever. And sometimes, when he smiles...”

Stunned, Gio leaned back in his side of the booth, eyes only for Stephan as his lungs burned for oxygen and his jaw set painfully tight.

Stephan, not even looking at him, continued. “I just... I think, ‘how can anyone not want him’, you know? And I just can’t believe he’s not-”

“Excuse me-” Voice slightly harsh, he beat a hasty path away from the booth, just away, and found himself scrambling for a men’s room.

He locked the door behind him and leaned against it as his lungs exploded in a furious collision of breath and the need to just, God, just let himself go. Because there it was. That man, who was sweet and charming and good-natured and kind, who loved Evan’s smile and wanted to be with him more than-

And he can’t get up off the floor for a long time. He just feels sick and unreal and stuck in the black of a place he can’t leave. But when he finally takes another breath, looks up at the mirror and fixes his eyes back to shallow, he steps out of the restroom and finds Stephan paid the bill. An hour ago.

--

“Jesus Christ, Gordon! Just give it up already!”

This stupid fight had been going on all morning, and Evan was just about sick of it. Usually when his boyfriends slept with Gio, they at least had the balls to admit it. And he’d been ‘working late’ all week, and he’d heard that one before, hadn’t he? But there he was, all innocent and puppy-dog eyed, swearing up and down that he really was working overtime, and he really did have exams next week, and hell, didn’t Evan trust him anymore?

“I’m not, Evan, I swear to God!” He held his hands up in defense as the blond moved closer. “I never went near him!”

“Just tell me the truth!” He tried to quell the shaking in his voice. He hated these moments. “I swear, I won’t be mad. Okay?”

“I am telling you the truth!”

“No,” Remaining calm was way too hard. He had to swallow a lot of curses, a lot of angry words. But keeping calm was becoming an art-form by now. And it was all Gio’s fault. “We both know you’re not. Listen, I know how Gio is. I know what happened between you two probably trumps anything we’ve done. I’m not pissed. But I need to know you can admit shit like this to me. That you’re not gonna lie to me when you do something stupid. So just- just stop acting like you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I didn’t!” Gordon blustered. “Why would I ever do that to you?! Evan, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

“Oh, fuck this.” He hears himself hiss as he grabs the brand new cordless off the wall and dials the number he knows by heart.

“Belvedere residence, who may I ask is calling?” The maid answered, speaking in a whispered Spanish accent. The elder Belvedere was probably hosting guests.

“Evan, for Gio.” He growled into the receiver, looking up to glare at Gordon. The man was standing perfectly still, chin high, eyes strikingly bold. For a moment, he wondered if he really wasn’t a rat.

“Yo, buddy, wassup?”

He could hear the tones of that damn Gameboy in the background. Sometimes he thought it was permanently attached to his arm. “Gio.” Speaking the name quietly, he listened as the little bleeps clicked off and the black-haired man on the other end sighed heavily.

“That creep still lying his ass off?” He asked, and Evan could picture him as he was. Leaning back on his beanbag chair and kicking his slippers off. “Figures. He was over here last night. Night before, too. So, dude, I got this new game-”

He pressed a hand over the receiver, turning to glare at Gordon with force.

Gordon looked quite confused. “What?”

“Get your stuff and go.” He spat, dropping onto the couch by the window. “Fucking liar.”

Fifteen minutes later, he looked up as Gio continued to babble and watched the lying sonova bitch slam the door behind him.

“Asshole.” He huffed into the phone, feeling less sad and more angry by the minute. That’s the thing about this whole... whatever he and Gio have going. Quick recovery.

“He’s gone?” Gio asks, turning away from his Gameboy again. “Finally.”

“You know, this is strange.” He muttered. “I think I’m starting to trust you.”

“Bad sign. You should definitely go see a shrink.”

“Would you screw him if I did?”

“Would you watch?”

The image made him close his eyes, nearly suck in his breath, because Hell, it was always hard not to think of Gio that way. Just hearing his voice sometimes... “Sure. Maybe I’d learn something.”

“That’s the spirit.” He laughed, and Evan laughed too. What was he even thinking? It’s not like he’s the only one. How many people fall for Gio? On a daily basis? “You comin’ home for Christmas?”

“Yeah.” Evan sighed, looking around the now-empty apartment. “I’ll be home. Is my room still there, or did you turn it into a movie library?”

“Awe, c’mon,” He sounded so jovial that Evan’s lips smiled on their own, and suddenly he couldn’t wait to see him. “I stole your beanbag, but otherwise...”

--

His fist pounds the doorbell harder than it’s worth, and waits outside for what feels like eternity. If he wanted to, he could’ve just called five or six times until Gio got off his ass and answered the damn phone. But he was in a bad mood, and he hadn’t truly been a bastard in years. So, why not?

The new maid answered, giving him a once-over as she sniffed the cold air in distaste. “Belvedere Residence, how may I help you?”

“Evan, for Gio.” He was getting tired of saying that. Evan, for Gio. Evan, for Gio. It sounded like he was a package or something.

She sniffed again. “Mr. Belvedere is in a conference call. He’s not to be disturbed.”

“He’s gonna wanna know I’m here.”

Giving him a stiff glare, she nodded and shut the door in his face. He stood for ten minutes, tapping his foot into the pavement and fighting the urge to play with the wind-chime hanging above his head. Finally, she returned. “Right this way.”

He tapped the wind-chime as he walked in, giving in to habitual behavior. After all, the thing’s been there since the dawn of time. It hung from the doorway of Gio and his mother’s apartment, and on their wedding day Mr. Belvedere had it moved here with the rest of the stuff. Mostly because Gio’s mom said it was a good luck charm.

The hallways wound around him and he lost himself in all the oil paintings and expensively classic furniture. The Belvedere family was richer than most kings, eight generations of unscrupulous crooks. Gio’s step-brother was currently in jail for ripping off old ladies with a telemarketing scam. His cousin, Al, earned a double-tap to the back of the skull when he crossed the cop he’d been trying to turn dirty. They never found Gio’s grandfather, though nobody was really looking.

When they got to Gio’s room Evan side-stepped the maid, ignoring her little squeak of protest. He wasn’t in a conference call, no way. He never worked when he didn’t have to.

“Who’s the new maid?” He asked, brushing through the door without knocking. His friend and client gave him a slightly amused look as he clicked out of his game of solitaire. “I thought your dad liked Rosa.”

“Brigit.” He smiled, black hair clawing tendrils down his back. He must’ve just showered. “He did. Mom didn’t.”

“Ah.” Dropping into the beat-up yellow beanbag he knew so well, he kicked his feet out and unbuttoned his suit jacket. “Do you remember Gordon?”

Stiffening a little, he turns his head to look. “Gordon the Waste of Six Months? Yeah, sure. Why?”

“Just thinkin’ about it.” Leaning back, he stared up at the ceiling to count the cracks. His hand reached out and found its familiar place, fingers picking at the worn piece of masking tape covering the hole he and Gio had made wrestling over the Playstation controller two years before.

“Well, don’t.” His friend snorted. “He never did you any good.”

“Yeah, but...” Shaking his head a little, he shrugged at his own musings. “Just... kinda makes me wonder.”

He clicked out of solitaire quickly and turned the computer chair around, green eyes on him steady and pricked with some kind of... emotion. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

“I have to meet with your father and his lawyer in an hour. Figured I’d stop by, see if you’re awake yet.” There was that crack, shaped like an E. E for Evan. “You know, they’ve been in there for three days. It might take them a week.”

“The jury? They’ll come back today. For sure.” Gio smiled a little. “I’ll walk. Stephen’s gonna walk too. Guilty as sin, but he’s gonna walk.”

“Stephan’s not- You know what?” Sighing to himself, he ran a hand through his hair and gave up. “I don’t care. I’m done. Just tell me how it was and get it over with.”

“Great.” He turned back to the computer. “Fantastic. He had the most perfect dick-”

“Liar.”

“I was wondering when you were gonna stop me.” Rolling his eyes, he swung back around and crossed his legs at the ankle. “So he told you?”

“Yeah.” Smiling a little, he gave Gio a slightly amused smile. “We’re seeing a movie Friday. Providing he walks.”

“Good.” There was a tight look about his features, something shallow that Evan had seen once or twice before. Usually not for very long. And true to form, Belvedere turned back toward the computer and left his face to imagination.

Evan raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I said, ‘Good’.”

“I heard.”

Exasperated, he turned back, and this time he looked very, very fake. “He’s a good guy! What, can’t I be happy for you?”

“Jesus, you’ve never been before.” Pushing up from his beanbag, he crossed the room to fully examine this new Gio he’s not accustomed to. “What’s with the face?”

“What face? I’m sayin’, he’s a decent guy. He wants to be with you. He wants to give you all that stuff you’ve always deserved. And he’s not interested in me, so I don’t have a shot in hell. His only real flaw is that he’s a big, fat, unbelievably two-faced crook. But that’s no big deal. I’m happy for you, really. I mean it.”

Closing in, he leaned on the desk, eyes narrowing. “I don’t believe you. You’re lying through your Goddamn teeth.”

“Well, Jesus Christ, Evan! Whaddya want me to say?!” Springing up from his chair, he beared down on Evan, who beared up at him just as hard. “I’m not gonna be happy for you now! He’s a snake! He’s a liar and a fuckin’ snake!”

“Yeah, thought you two might get along!”

“He’s a liar!” He snarled. “And a sonova bitch! He’s gonna chew you up and spit you out! I play just like he’s playin’, Ev, I know it when I fuckin’ see it!”

“Sounds great, comin’ from you.” Evan snarled back. His back was arched and he stared up at his pseudo-friend like he was Satan-Incarnate. This was bad.

“Fine!” Gio stepped past him, eyes holding his as he looked back over his shoulder. “I’m a liar. So fuckin’ what? I’m not the one who’s gonna break your heart, Brenkan. You know that.”

“You broke it fifteen times already, bastard.” He spat. “You’re just scared of seeing me happy.”

“You lied about Owen Barren-”

“That was high school!”

“You lied about Gordon-”

“Gordon was a waste of oxygen!” Gio yelled, hands flaming out to his sides. “He was charging his bills with your fucking Gold Card! He wasn’t treatin’ you right, and you know it!”

“Oh, so what, you get to decide who’s good enough for me?!”

“Why The Hell Not?!” He kept yelling, raising his voice loud enough to echo. “Somebody’s gotta do it, since you obviously can’t tell a good man for shit!”

“And you’re perfect judge of character, huh?” Swinging past Belvedere, he strode out the door and slammed it shut.

He got to his car and didn’t leave for another twenty minutes, absolutely certain Gio would come running out to stop him.

--

“He’s with that cocktail waitress from Caesar’s.” Gio snorts into the phone. “He brings her home every other week while mom’s at PTA.”

“Do you know her name?” Evan asks, feeling awkward even asking. Family stuff. He shouldn’t even know half of this.

“Rhonda. Or Brenda. Or something with a ‘nndah’. I can’t really hear them through the wall”

In retrospect, maybe he should’ve just hung up earlier when Gio started talking about his damn step-father. “Does your mom know?”

He snorts loudly. “If she knows, she’s being awful cool about it.”

“Well it’s not like she can do much.”

“God, I fucking hate him.”

“How long’s this been going on?”

“What, the cheating or Brenda?”

“Brenda?”

“Four months.”

“And the cheating?”

“Since about eight days after the wedding.”

“Ouch.”

--

They both got off. Stephan was free for dinner and a movie Friday night and Gio wouldn’t answer his phone. Not that Evan was calling, except he was. Just to tell him he won the case. And, yeah, maybe he shouldn’t have said all those stupid, honest things. That truth nonsense. No room for it in a relationship like theirs. Where everything is a joke, and nothing really hurts until it hits you all at once.

It really hurts, not talking to him.

He doesn’t come out of his house for interviews; a fact that worries Evan for a couple reasons. As a lawyer, he knows his absence from the scene is only going to cause more buzz. As a pseudo-maybe-kind-of-almost-best friend, he’s worried as all hell. He wants to know if he’s okay. If he’s eating right, if he’s sleeping at all, if he’s really as fine as his father makes him out to be. Because Belvedere has never confused Gio with his sons so much as to care, and God only knows how he’s going to take losing eight-point-three million dollars.

So that Friday, sitting at the dimly lit table and trying to see his food, Evan makes a valiant attempt to enjoy his dinner with Stephan. The sushi is good, and the sake is better, but even as he drinks his fourth he can’t seem to get it together. Something about it...

The way he talks. Laying the compliments on thick and rich, sweet and easy. Throwing in careful hints and flirting like there’s no tomorrow. Sweeping a hand over his white-blond locks and slashing him up with that thousand-dollar smile. Telling him he’s amazing. Telling him he’s brilliant.

Ordering his food. The most expensive plate in the house, refusing to allow him his own choice. Because, yes, he knows he’ll love it. And yes, he’s paying, it’s the least he can do.

Touching his hand as he reaches for the chopsticks. Because, why not? They’re on a date. And he’s been wanting to touch him all night.

Asking him if he wants to skip the movie. There’s always another night, and yeah, he wants to see it but he really would like to take him back to his place. For coffee. Or wine. He’s got a fantastic bottle of-

“I’ll be right back.” He smiles, sliding to his feet and heading for the men’s room.

Jesus Christ, can the man move any faster?

He’s a good guy, who skis and plays guitar and all that jazz... And sure, he’s a good date. But... Just, hell, every other second he’s dropping hints and saying things and touching him... It’s starting to get bad. To the point of smothering. And he thought Gio was a Casanova...

... Gio...

He slips out the back door and hails a cab. Calls his always-and-forever-asshole best friend three times on the way home. No answer.

--

He pulled out the shoebox and opened it, dumping his contents on the bed and glaring at them as though they’d done him wrong. Not the man they represented.

Pictures. Memories. Keepsakes. A letter they’d written to Gio’s mother in blue crayon, explaining that they were running away to become Jedi and they’d be back when Darth Vader was ‘spas pankak’ (Gio could never spell). Notes they’d passed during Algebra sophomore year. All of those stupid pictures they’d taken together at prom.

Worthless Junk.

He was done. Done with stupid Gio Belvedere and his stupid habit of taking what wasn’t his. This was the eighth time, the eighth fucking time! He refused to go through this again!

But then his phone rang. And he answered.

“Yo, what’s up?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Don’t. Wait, what’re you doing?”

“Nothing.” God, why didn’t he just hang up?

“You’re gonna toss the time capsule, aren’t you?”

“No.” He slowly began to put the contents back. “Just cleaning.”

“Well, don’t toss the Star Wars letter. That Darth Vader drawing was some of my best work.”

He hung up. And put the box back on the shelf.

--

He got to his apartment and found Gio waiting at the door. A part of him nearly gave way.

The man looked at him with nothing in his eyes but raw, shuddering green. As though he expected to lose everything in the next few seconds, and maybe he would. Maybe he should. Maybe it’s about time he lost something. So he feels his legs move him closer and silently thanks his body for doing the right thing for once.

He looked so real...

And he held his gaze because it’s all he’s got, and he always knew this is how it would be. Eventually, when all was said and done. Because he’s spent his whole life living for him, the bastard he is. It’s about time. It’s past time.

“If I were a nice guy, I’d just want you to be happy.” Licking his pale lips, he turned away, averting his eyes for the sake of his dignity. “If you want to hear that, hear it from him, because he’ll tell you anything you want to hear. Trust me on that.”

His black hair swayed in its tail as he stepped closer, face drawn. Fully serious for once. It dawned on Evan that maybe he shouldn’t care so much. But he did. He always had.

“He’s a liar and a snake, but other than that...” He rests a hand on his shoulder, and his heart shifts to his throat. “He’s a decent guy. He’ll make you okay for a while, as long as he can. But he’s going to hurt you, Ev. Swear to God. He’ll hurt you, and so will the next guy, and so will I, because that’s what we do when we play games. We hurt each other.”

Gio... His whole body leaned into that hand, because it’s just what he needed. Always.

The green in his eyes is shining and burning, chasing through Evan’s nerves. Always... “I’m a bastard. And a sonova bitch. And I’ve been trying to protect you when I knew damn well you could take care of yourself, because I love you but I can’t make you happy. Nobody’s ever going to be happy with me.”

His lips came down, touched his cheek for an all-too-brief moment. Evan’s lungs let go of the breath they’d been holding.

“But nobody’s going to try harder than me, Ev. Nobody wants to be with you more than I do. I know it. Because if I’d been any of those guys, any of them, I’d never have left you hanging for somebody like me. I’m not worth half of you.”

His lungs gasped for air as he finally leaned up, leaned in, and felt his lips against a mouth they’d been longing for since puberty. And they connected and collapsed, opening for his tongue, letting the worst possible man use them to his advantage as he kissed him shaky and nervous, all the time holding him like he was afraid he’d disappear. Like he was scared. Like he really meant what he was saying. Because he did.

And Evan pulled away, laughed a little, mumbled “Why do I always fall for such assholes?” and kissed him again. Harder. Until he didn’t know if he could stop.

--

“Merry Christmas, Bro!” Gio plopped him down on the thing, a gigantic yellow beanbag with a huge red bow. “Your old one’s in the basement. Figured you’d want a new one.”

“Gee, thanks.” Rolling his eyes, he settled in and looked up at the ceiling. It was funny, how something like this could just make him feel at home. His own beanbag chair. Hell, he’d settled for less. “Your present’s in my coat pocket.”

“Sweet.” He pulled the arctic-grade blizzard-proof Eskimo coat off the computer chair and fumbled with it until he could find the pockets. “Where is it?”

“Right pocket.” Exhausted, he simply waved a hand in the coat’s general direction. He hated this winter in particular. The snow was crazy.

Finally, he pulled out a bright blue box with red ribbon. It was small and flat and it fit in the palm of his hand. Green eyes flitting from the ribbon to Evan, he cracked a sarcastic smile. “I hope this isn’t Tiffany’s. You know, I always tell you not to spoil me.”

He laughed a little. “Just open the box. Loser.”

“Jeez, where’d the romance go?”

He pulled the ribbon apart and opened the box. Inside was a small card. Furrowing his brow, he turned it over and over in his fingers. “Monopoly?”

“Get Outta Jail Free Card.” Grinning softly, he looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. “I passed the Bar Exam.”

Shock passed over Gio’s face in a quiet, easy wash. “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope. Merry Christmas.” He shook his head and let it all sink in.

“Oh... Holy... Shit!” He laughed heartily, pulling the blond boy up from his chair and wrapping him in a languid hug. “Holy Shit! Oh My God! No Way!”

“Gio-” Grinning wide into the hug, he allowed himself to be engulfed in the energy, refusing the voice in his head that was saying You’re a masochist... And yeah, maybe he was. Because it was impossible not to feel this way about Gio. In fact, he was pretty sure everybody felt that little skip in their heartbeat when he touched them, or that little zing down their back when he smiled. He was no different. How could anyone not love him?

“You passed!” He’s still celebrating, practically excited out of his mind. “I gotta call mom! She’s gonna flip out!”

“No, wait, we’ll tell her later!”

An evil look came into his eyes. “Oh, yeah!” He smirked. “Tell ‘er in front of Dad. He’s gonna be so pissed. Because he knows you’re never gonna work for him.”

“Hell no.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he shook his head soundly. “Jesus, how can your mom put up with his shit?”

“Hey, somebody’s gotta love the assholes of the world.” The black-haired boy pshawed. “Where would we be if only nice guys got laid?”

“On an empty planet.” Evan laughed, shaking his head. “And you’d still be a virgin.”

--

Hello, all!

Expect many drabbles on this one. They're too cute to leave alone, don't you think?