This is the first slash piece I have ever started writing. I started it about last year, but then I stopped writing it for a reason unknown even to myself. I've written, as you know, many other slash oneshots, but this one was my baby. I got the idea from a boy in my class, James, who is the anti-gay. I mean, he doesn't like it at all. And honestly, I know he's straighter than a ruler. I don't mean for this story to imply anything otherwise. But he is very defensive about his straightness, and that gave me an idea. So I started writing. This is what happened.

Perfect Asian Superstar

James went downstairs to complain about the High School Musical music that he could hear all the way up the motherfucking stairs. "Cassie! Turn it down!" he told his younger sister, who was sixteen but liked the stupid movie anyway.

Cassie ignored him and looked at her friend Alison. "Zac Efron is so hot."

James snorted. "He's a fag."

Alison turned to glare at James. "He is not. And even if he was, he'd still be hot. God, Cass, your brother is such a homophobe."

"I know," Cassie said sadly.

"I—" James spluttered. "I'm not afraid of—it's just wrong."

Alison rolled her eyes. "It's not wrong, James. It's just not accepted. But it could be accepted if people like you didn't screw everything up. Jesus, Jamie, if I didn't know any better, I might think you were gay."

"I am NOT gay," he said, storming back upstairs.

Alison turned back to Cassie with a shrug. "He's defensive enough to be."

XoXoX

Cassie looked around at the sound of her name. "Oh, hey, Patrick."

Patrick gave a strained smile and said, "Yeah, 'oh hey.'"

"How've you been?" Cassie continued.

Patrick's brow crinkled and he looked into the distance over Cassie's left shoulder. "Not so great, actually. That's uh, what I wanted to talk to you about. Um… I think I should, you know… tell my parents."

Cassie's eyebrows shot up. "I thought you didn't want to."

"I didn't. I still don't, but… I think I should. I don't think I should keep secrets from them. Especially not one this big. But I think… I think I need to. Tonight. What should I say, Cassie, help me! I mean, I'm their Perfect Asian Superstar. I can't… I mean… help me!"

She looked at the linoleum floor in anxiety. "I don't know, Patrick! How about, 'hey mom and dad, I'm gay'?"

Patrick shushed her and looked around the otherwise empty hallway. "God, Cass, what if someone heard you?"

"Then it would only be confirming the obvious. Look, no offense, Patrick, but you don't exactly come off as a straight dude."

"None taken," he sighed. "I guess I just… say it. But what if they won't hear it, Cass? What happens if they kick me out?"

"Then you come to my house," Cassie said firmly. "And you stay at my house. My parents won't mind, they're fine with, you know. Homosexuality."

Patrick looked only slightly relieved. "But your brother isn't."

"My brother," Cassie said angrily, "does not pay the bills. My brother does not pay the mortgage. My brother does not buy the food, and my brother does not pay for cable. In fact, the only thing my brother EVER does is sit on his lazy ass! So, Patrick Chan, as you may have gathered, my brother means nothing. He has no say in this matter. You're my friend, and you will stay with me if your parents kick you out. I could not give a flying fuck what James has to say on the subject, and neither will my parents. So there."

Patrick gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Cassie. But I hope it doesn't come to that. God, I hope it doesn't come to that."

XoXoX

It came to that.

"Patrick?"

"They did it, Cass. They… hate me."

"They don't, Patrick, they love you! You're their son!"

"Their gay son, who they kicked out!" Patrick bit his lip, fighting tears. "I… I hope you were serious when you said I could stay here, Cassie, 'cause honestly, I have nowhere else to go."

Cassie swallowed. "Of course I was serious. I told my mom you might be coming, just in case, so we could get the guestroom—oh my God, Patrick, I'm so sorry!" She threw her arms around his thin shoulders.

Patrick dragged his hand across his eyes. "It's alright. I'm alright. I have you, Cassie, I'll be fine."

Cassie smiled, pulling away from him. "Yes. You'll be fine. You're still my Perfect Asian Superstar. Let me show you where you'll be staying."

XoXoX

James was not happy with this arrangement. Not happy one bit. It wasn't his fault the faggot's parents kicked him out! Why should he, James, have to pay for it? Why should he have to share his bathroom with that… kid? Why should he have to remember to— Oh, he didn't know— put on a shirt every time he left his bedroom?

James figured Patrick wasn't… you know… attracted to him or anything. James wasn't stupid; he didn't think that just because a dude was gay, it meant he liked all dudes or something. But still, James figured it was comparable to living in a house full of chicks— he wouldn't walk around without a shirt on then. Well, there was Cass and there was Mom, but they were different, somehow, exempt from the rule. They were relatives. He and Cassie used to bathe together, for heaven's sake.

But he put clothes on when Alison was over. So he supposed he had to put clothes on while Patrick was staying there.

And it annoyed him. Patrick annoyed him. How he got along so well with Cass and Alison, with Mom and Dad… it was just obnoxious, frankly. Even the freaking dog loved Patrick. And mom… Patrick was like the son she never had—except for the fact that she had a son, and he was sitting alone in his dark bedroom wondering when the hell the homo would leave.

But then, a small part of James also felt bad. He didn't really want Patrick to leave. To be out on the street, by himself. No home, no one who loved him. And it startled James even more to find that he cared. He actually cared about what happened to Patrick.

And that, James knew, annoyed him more than anything else.

XoXoX

"Cassie," Patrick wondered, sitting on the school steps with his friend about four days after beginning his stay with her.

"Yeah?" she replied, sitting up.

"Is James gay?"

Cassie burst out laughing. "I don't know. I don't think so. He's not exactly… you know… open about those kinds of things. But he never goes to dances, he never goes on dates, and I swear to god, he listens to Jewel. Honest. So I don't know. Why? You picking up on something? Your… gaydar working overtime?"

Patrick chuckled. "I don't know. I was just wondering."

"Omigod," Cassie said, looking up at him. "Do you like him?"

Patrick's face flushed, and he shook his head. "No! It's not like that, I just wanted to know. Jeez."

"Hmm," Cassie said, her eyebrows raised. "A little defensive, are we?"

"I'm defensive because it's not true," Patrick said agitatedly.

Cassie sneered. "I could always… ask him if he likes you."

"And I could always ask Peter if he likes you." Patrick smirked, noting the delicate color change in Cassie's pale cheeks. He waited a moment before saying, at the exact same time Cassie did, "I'll shut up if you do."

They smiled at each other. "Fine," they said in unison.

XoXoX

Patrick walked out of the guestroom and bumped into James in the hallway. Color rose to his cheeks and he mumbled, "Sorry."

James shrugged. "It's okay. Um. How's it going?"

Patrick gave him a how-do-you-think­ kind of look before saying, "Yeah, it's okay, I guess. As good as it could be in the present situation."

James hesitated. "I'm sorry. You know, about acting like I don't want you here. It's not that I don't want you here, it's just… I don't know… a change, I guess. I never liked change."

Patrick nodded. "I understand. I don't like change, either. But we have to deal, right, because everything changes. Styles change, seasons change, people change. It's always going on and nothing we can do will stop the world from changing."

James blinked. It was clear to Patrick that the other boy was impressed with that little speech. "Yeah," James finally said. "You're right." And with that, he continued down the hallway to the bathroom.

XoXoX

That night, the phone rang. "Hello?" James said.

"Hello, um, can I—I mean, is, uh, Cassie Carmillo there?"

It was a boy. It wasn't like boys never called for Cassie—she had guy friends and stuff… but none of them, James thought, sounded nearly as nervous as this boy was. James rolled his eyes. "Who is calling?"

"Uh, Peter Graham. Is she, um, there? I mean, available?"

James stifled a laugh and said, "One moment." He muted the phone and yelled, "Cassie!"

"What?" his little sister asked, coming down the stairs.

"Phone," he said, holding it out. "Peter Graham? Am I gonna have to beat this kid up?"

Cassie gasped and ran for the receiver. "Peter freaking Graham is calling me?"

"Um, I'm going to go with yes," James rolled his eyes again and handed her the phone. "It's on mute."

Cassie hit the button to unmute the phone and said shakily into it, "Hello?"

Patrick wandered out of the kitchen as Cassie retreated upstairs. "So, Peter's finally calling," he mused.

"Who is he?" James asked.

"He's cool. Kind of a dork, but Cass is pretty into him. They have AP everything together, of course."

"Of course," James smiled. "Hey, how did you and Cassie become friends?"

"Art class," Patrick explained. "The only two seats left, you know. I thought I would be forced to sit next to some idiot. But then… Cassie. I think she actually liked me for a while, but I never brought it up because she got over it when I told her… you know… if not before then."

James nodded. "Cassie, I think, has liked every dude she's met—at least for a little bit."

"Not true," Patrick defended. "We met some really cute guys at the mall—" he paused slightly, gauging James's reaction. But he didn't look uncomfortable, so Patrick continued, "and she didn't even look twice at them. All she could talk about was Peter, Peter, Peter."

James smiled. "Well, that's good. I hate it when Cass is all… you know… PMS and everything. It drives me crazy. I'm glad he's calling 'round, then."

Patrick nodded, rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes, his sneakered feet squeaking on the linoleum. "Yeah, me too. Cassie is pretty much my best friend. The only one who still loves me." He laughed humorlessly. "Sorry. I'm turning this into a self-pity-party. Only, everyone knows hopeless gay kids shouldn't have more than one per hour. And, given the situation, my quota's already filled for the day. So, goodnight, I guess."

James nodded, watching the other boy try not to let his indifferent expression break. It wasn't working very well. Patrick blinked a couple of times before turning to head back upstairs. "Hey, Patrick?" James said as the other boy reached the top of the staircase. "Goodnight."

Patrick gave a small, sad smile, and nodded back to James. Then he continued down the hallway and into the guestroom. James stood at the bottom of the stairs for a long time. What on Earth was that?

XoXoX

James did not much like English class. Never had, really. He could talk, and he could understand. What the hell was all this business about grammar and sentence fluency and literary devices? James didn't know. He didn't like writing analysis essays any more than the next slacker, but he knew the basic vocab for one—you know what he's talking about. Evidence, realizations, internal conflicts.

Internal conflicts.

James knew a whole freaking lot about internal conflicts by this point in his seventeen-year-old life. Part of him felt one way, another part of him felt another. Then there was this third part, the one screaming STOP FIGHTING, ALREADY! No one, James noticed, ever talked about that third part in books. There was always two sides to an internal conflict; one was rational, one was completely and utterly irrational. One was the right thing, and one was the wrong thing. It could change up a bit—you know, the rational one could be the wrong thing and the irrational one could be right—but still. Two sides.

James had three. One side was saying, no. No way, James Carmillo. There is no way you're going to do creepy things like this. Uh-uh. The other side said, well, James, if it's what you really want… I know it's what you really want, James, because I know you. I am you. The third side just wanted both of the other sides to shut up so he could get some fucking sleep for once.

But it was hard to sleep with Patrick Chan in the next room.

Not that James liked him or anything.

Except for the fact that you do, side number two insisted.

He does not, side number one snapped back. He's not gay. He's normal.

Being gay doesn't make you abnormal, James.

Yes it did! James almost started praying for someone to just turn his brain off and let him sleep already!

Being gay is illogical. It is a stupid move, and you should not allow yourself to do something so stupid.

James threw his window open to feel the cold night air on his face. If he couldn't sleep, maybe he could at least clear his head out. He leaned his elbows on the windowsill. Internal conflict, James's ass. This was stupid. He didn't care about that stupid kid. Just because he was nice to James's family, and best friends with his sister, and he filled the dog's water bowl when no one else noticed it was empty, and just because he had the greatest Asian punk rock hair James had ever seen in his life, and just because he was strong enough to face up to everybody else about being gay… that didn't mean he was worth liking.

So James didn't like him.

Not at all.

So as the first and third parties on the Internal Conflict Battlefield screamed their protest, the second slowly took control of James's brain. Brain, number two commanded, make legs move. Legs, go to door. Arms, pull door open. Legs, walk down hall. Arms, push next door open. Eyes, watch. And they did. Patrick was sleeping, of course—it was three o'clock in the morning. His pale skin was bathed in moonlight, and James could see his collarbone, his smooth shoulders, his snowy pectoral muscles. James had always wondered why Asian people were referred to as "yellow." There was nothing yellow about this boy. He was snow white. He was porcelain. He was perfect. His pale, slender face looked calm, peaceful, as though in his sleep, he had forgotten all about the television drama that was his life. James, now under the complete control of Side Number Two, longed to touch Patrick. Just to run a finger down his cheek, through his raven-dark hair. But he withheld. Even the gayest reaches of James's mind couldn't quite comprehend the level of stalkerdom he had already achieved. He made himself go back to his bedroom, giving the shining boy a last look over his shoulder.

What the hell was wrong with him?

XoXoX

Patrick awoke the next morning feeling odd. Different. He didn't know quite what it was. But he slid out of Cassie's guest bed and threw a shirt on, mussing his already mussed hair in the mirror and yawning. He pulled tight black jeans on over his underwear, and surveyed himself. He liked this particular shade of red on himself. It made him look dangerous.

Or about as dangerous as a five-foot-seven, skinny little Asian boy could be.

A knock came at the door. "Patrick?" It was Mrs. Carmillo.

"Yeah?" he opened it. "What's wrong?"

"Your… um… mother is here."

"My… mother."

"Yes." She paused. "She'd like to talk to you."

Patrick swallowed. "Oh. Um. Okay." He followed Mrs. Carmillo downstairs.

"Patrick!" his mother nearly shouted when she first saw him, rushing to meet him at the bottom of the stairs and pulling him into a sudden hug. She was crying, Patrick could tell. He put his arms softly around her as she murmured to him in Mandarin. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, mama," he told her softly.

"I love you, my son."

"I know, mama. I love you too."

She pulled back. "I wish you could come home. But your father…"

"I understand."

"I make deal with Mrs. Carmillo, yes? I talk to her on telephone. She says you can stay here until you're eighteen. I'll pay her for food and things for you. I'll visit you, I promise." Mrs. Carmillo nodded to tell Patrick that she had already agreed. Patrick's mother continued. "I'm so sorry."

"Isn't that imposing on the Carmillos, mama? We can't do that. I'll find somewhere else to stay, this is just… temporary."

"No," said Mrs. Carmillo firmly. "It was my suggestion, and it's set. Your mother is still your legal guardian, and you will listen to what she tells you. It's no issue for me at all. Of course, there are rules. You'll have the same curfew as Cassie and James, and you will tell me where you're going when you go out. I trust that you will continue, as you have already done in these past few weeks, to treat me and this house with respect."

Patrick's mother shot him a look. "You listen to her. You respect her. I am your mother, but she is taking care of you."

"I understand, mama. Of course, Mrs. Carmillo. Thank you so, so much. This means…" he shook his head, biting his lip to keep the tears from falling. He had a place to stay. His mother still loved him. Everything was going to be fine. He swallowed. "This means so much to me."

Mrs. Carmillo touched his cheek softly and asked his mother, "Would you like to come to dinner tonight?"

Mrs. Chan shook her head. "I'm sorry. My husband does not know I'm here. I need to make him his dinner. I can't come. But I will someday, yes?"

"Of course," Mrs. Carmillo agreed with a kind smile. "Anytime."

Patrick's mother hugged him one last time and said, "You be good."

"Of course, mama. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

And she left. Patrick shuddered, trying to keep the sobs of relief and happiness from coming. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Carmillo."

"Of course, Patrick. You're an amazing boy, you know that? And you're going to grow up to be an amazing man. And someone will see that in you, and he will love you. I'm happy to let you stay here. Of course, there is one thing that I didn't want to mention in front of your mother…"

"What?"

"Well, it's just… about dating, you know. With Cassie and James I pretty much keep a blind eye, so I will treat you with that same respect. However—and I'm not saying this because you're gay, hon, I'm just saying this because you're a boy—remember that if you have sex, in this house or outside of it, promise me that you will use protection."

Patrick blushed furiously. "I promise. But it's highly unlikely that I'll be, um… doing it anytime soon." He leaned over and whispered, almost like a thirteen-year-old girl, "Penises freak me out."

Mrs. Carmillo threw her head back and laughed until tears sparkled in her blue eyes. "Oh, Patrick. You're just like Cassie. Well, your time will come, honey, I promise."

Patrick chuckled. "Thanks, Mrs. Carmillo."

"Sure, Patrick," she smiled, heading back into the kitchen. Patrick went to Cassie's room and knocked. She opened it about half a second later.

"I saw your mom drive up."

Patrick nodded. "It's a weird situation I've gotten us all into. I'm sorry."

"Why? What's happening?"

"My mom's going to pay your parents to keep me here until I'm a legal adult."

"That sounds weird." Then something dawned on her. "You're staying!"

"Yes," he tried to answer, but his mouth was muffled by her hair as she threw her arms around him.

"Hmm," They both heard a thoughtful voice from behind them. Cassie and Patrick both turned to look at who had spoken. James, of course—who else. "So you're staying then? For two years?"

Patrick frowned. That sounded like a long time. But he figured everyone would just get used to it. "I guess so."

Then, very unexpectedly, James smiled. "Huh. Interesting." And he turned and went back into his bedroom.

"Oh my god, he so loves you," Cassie whispered, grinning. "And did I tell you Peter asked me out last night?"

"Yeah?" Patrick grinned, too. "I'm so happy for you, Cass."

"Yeah," she sighed happily. "I guess we'll both be getting some soon, huh?"

Patrick wrinkled his nose. "What is it with the women in this family and sex?"

"Oh my god, what did mom say? What did that crazy woman say? Mother! What did you say to him!" she pushed past Patrick and rushed downstairs.

Patrick slumped against the wall in the hallway, letting it all sink in. For the next two years, this is where he was going to be. He could handle living with Cassandra, insane as she was. Mr. and Mrs. Carmillo were maybe the nicest people in the entire world, so as long as he was the Perfect Asian Superstar that he always was, he was sure living with them would be perfectly fine, too. And Botas Bonitas was the best dog he'd ever met.

But James was… James. Patrick didn't know what he could do about that, though. He didn't have anywhere else to go, and he felt that it might be taken as a personal insult to Mrs. Carmillo if he left them. He knew she liked him—what adult, besides his father, wouldn't? He was polite, he wasn't rowdy, and he was, above all, completely and utterly grateful to all of the Carmillos. And James had seemed almost… nice… before… and…

"Hey."

Shit. Shit. When had he come out of his room? How did he get next to Patrick without Patrick noticing? Oh, man, and his t-shirt was completely straining against his chest and shoulders, and dammit, Patrick wanted to kiss him and let James kiss him back and push him against the wall, and run his fingers through Patrick's hair, and Patrick wanted to rip that shirt off, and—"Hey," Patrick finally managed to choke out.

"I just… wanted to tell you that, um… I don't want you to think I hate you. Or that I don't want you here. Because I don't hate you. And I mean, I don't want you here, but I don't not want you here… you know?"

"Yeah," Patrick said, his mouth dry as he tried to pull his mind away from letting his eyes linger on James's body.

James nodded. They sat, side by side on the floor of the hallway, slumped against the wall, for the longest time. Finally, slowly, cautiously, James turned back to look at Patrick. "Oh, fuck it," he muttered. And before Patrick could figure out what that was supposed to mean, James's lips were crashing against his, his strong arms effectively pulling Patrick up by his shoulders and pinning him against the wall.

Patrick's brain short-circuited. Try playing piano or doing math now, Perfect Asian Superstar. He didn't even know what he was doing anymore. All he knew was that this was real. This was happening. There was no way it wasn't. James pulled away. Patrick's wit returned in an instant, and he said in a completely controlled voice, "I thought you said you didn't want me here."

James gripped Patrick's shoulders tighter. "I lied." And he shoved his face onto Patrick's again, before pulling away less than five seconds later. "I'm sorry. I never did ask you if you minded."

Patrick shook his head, unable to speak properly. "No, I don't mi—"

And that, apparently, was all that James needed. He kissed Patrick to the wall, biting on his lips and clenching and unclenching his fingers, in and out of Patrick's shoulders. Their tongues battled each other in some strange form of a wrestling match, and then, even though it had been maybe five minutes, or possibly much, much longer than that, they break apart too soon. "I'm gay," James informed Patrick.

"Oh. Well. Thanks for sharing."

"Thought you should know."

"Yeah. No, that's good to know."

James attacked Patrick's lips again, moving his hands to Patrick's lower back. Now it was Patrick gripping James's shoulders, as they pulled each other as close as they could possibly get. "I know he's hot, James, but god, you're going to drown him in your saliva if you keep this up." The boys looked at Cassie, who stood before them unimpressed, as though she'd seen them making out many times before. James's hands still rested behind Patrick's hips, and Patrick's wrists were still on James's shoulders, his fingers laced together behind James's neck.

"Go away," James said harshly.

"Get a room," Cassie shot back.

Patrick simply looked between the brother and sister. "Is this going to be a problem?"

They looked back at him, "No!" they snapped in unison.

Cassie then smiled. "I saw it coming. Are you 'going steady', then?" she teased.

James shrugged, feeling Patrick's arms bump on his shoulders with the movement. "I don't know if I'm ready for that. Is that okay?" he asked Patrick softly, his cerulean eyes boring into Patrick's onyx ones.

"I'm okay with that," Patrick assured him. "Besides, we've got time to figure things out, haven't we?"

"Lots of time," James smiled. He turned back to Cassie. "No. Now go away."

"Fine!" she said. "But you're blocking my door."

Both blushing, they moved out of her way, never taking their hands off of each other for a moment. When she was safely in her room, James whispered, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"In the beginning, you know. I didn't want you here. I was rude. I'm sorry."

Patrick smiled. "It's okay."

And for the first time, James pulled Patrick into a hug. Patrick's chin rested on James's shoulder, his arms now around James's chest. James had one hand still resting on Patrick's back, the other closer to his neck, as he felt the silky strands of Patrick's black hair that fell there. Patrick closed his eyes. This was what being with someone was supposed to feel like. He couldn't see it, but James closed his eyes, too.

Being gay never felt so good.

And that's it. I hope you enjoyed. Please review! Thanks ;)

And I know, that would be so weird to like, live with people and have your mom pay them to keep you there, and… it's weird, I know, and highly unrealistic, but cute when you think about James and Patrick in such close quarters for such a long time—James is a year above them, if you were wondering. He's a junior, I'd say, and Cassie and Patrick are sophomores. That seems young, I guess… hmm… but whatever, it's how it is. Yeah. I know it's unrealistic. But it's just so sweet.

And just to make one thing clear, I didn't intend it to seem as though Patrick's parents kicked him out because he didn't live up to their Asian standards. Just standards in general. I'm not saying, either, that they have standards because they're Asian—I feel the need to clarify because it's just such a stereotype, at least around here. Patrick's parents are Chinese because he popped into my head Chinese. They have weird non-gay-standards because he needed to get kicked out for my story to work. There is absolutely no correlation in my mind between the Asian-ness and the standards. Thank you.