Breakfast. Daniel was beginning to truly appreciate Derek's little routines – for once in his life he felt like there was some order to everything. It was still somewhat peculiar for him to sleep in a room that looked like it was managed by the staff of a five star hotel. It seemed every little appliance in Derek's home was expensive and well-made, very much the opposite of things in his mother's home.

The things money could buy were truly remarkable.

The neighborhood Derek's apartment was in was incredibly upscale compared to the rest of Philadelphia; safe; and not to mention quiet. No sounds bothered Daniel during the night, not even cars. It didn't even make him apprehensive to walk around at night – at 1am Derek and he had taken a trip to a 24-hour shop without any problems, something Daniel would have sincerely avoided doing in the neighborhood his mother's house was located in.

"What part of New Jersey does your father live in?" Derek asked curiously, taking a sip of his coffee. A nervous look crossed his face. "Not in Newark or Jersey City… or fucking Camden?"

"No, no," Daniel winced at the mere mention of Camden. "My father's house isn't in a city. Though I did live in Newark briefly with my mom after my parent's divorce."

Derek shook his head. "No offense, Daniel, but I'm really not a fan of Jersey."

"Not all of it is that bad."

"No, but almost all of it. Half the state is a dump. All the cities in Jersey are shit. We have a joke that Jersey is the city's garbage disposal. Seriously."

Daniel shrugged – he couldn't deny that cities in New Jersey were awful – but he answered the question anyway. "My father's house is in Bergen County. It's far from Camden. And it's not a city. It's a town. And it's quiet, pretty, and clean." For your information, not all of my state is shit. Daniel's eyes narrowed at his boyfriend, not so much in anger but disproval.

Very typical New Yorker.

Derek's eyes seemed to light up. "I've heard of that place! Isn't it very close to Manhattan?"

"Yeah, it is. New York is pretty close by. The area I lived in was called a borough. Bergen is divided into boroughs like New York; the borough my father's house is in is called Closter. It's a really nice area. But very expensive."

"Why did you choose to live with your mother instead of your father?"

Daniel immediately silenced; becoming tight lipped. The question was unexpected and terribly sharp - not only that; he really wasn't sure how to respond. He had been young when he made the choice. And even if at times he would have loved to change that decision, he had never gone to his mother to say it.

"Sorry," Derek said, after seeing Daniel's expression change – and reached his hand across the table to cup over his boyfriend's. Derek's hand had an afterglow of warmth from holding his coffee mug. "That was rude. You don't need to answer."

Ignoring the apology, he replied; "I don't know why. I guess because I felt closer to her. My father was never home."

Derek smiled lightly. "So you get along with her?"

Daniel sighed in exasperation. "I don't know about that. We don't really fight, but… It's hard to explain. My step father is a fucking asshole. Not just to me but to her also. She always just ignored it. Like it was nothing, or that it was, well, normal." Daniel made a face, looking down. "It pissed me off." The words came out like splinters buried beneath his skin.

"Does your step father beat her?"

Like a storm passing over a landscape, coloring grass a gray blue, Daniel's face went dark. "Yes."

A deep look of concern had crossed over Derek's countenance. "How often?"

"Often enough." Derek squeezed his hand.

"I don't want you to ever go back to that kind of life."

"I don't want to, either. " Derek leant over the table suddenly – to give Daniel a sweet little kiss on the cheek. Without really thinking about it, Daniel wrapped his arms around Derek's shoulders to hug him. The position wasn't very comfortable so Derek broke it after a few seconds, pulling back from Daniel's embrace to straighten out his shirt, which had wrinkled up from being caught between the table's edge and his body.

"So your mother just stays with him?"

"Yes. I don't know why. It's not like she has to." Looking down, Daniel could see his distorted reflection in the silverware. "I've tried to convince her to leave him more than once. But she won't. And I can't force her." The words tasted like lemon juice on his tongue.

"Hopefully she'll come to her senses."

Daniel wasn't so sure about that. It would have been nice to hope so, but he really didn't think his mother would ever leave his step father; after all the crap he had put them through. She would have done it already if she'd wanted to.

It didn't make sense to him, because he couldn't remember his father ever being so cruel, even if they had often fought – yet they divorced.

She decided he was more important to her than I was, a thought ticked in Daniel's head. If I had been more important she would have left him for me.

But she didn't.

Bitch.

I hate her.

That declaration was poison in his brain; and difficult to admit.

Daniel didn't want to continue this conversation, so he switched the subject.

"What about you, Derek?"

The blond perked up. "What about me?"

"You said you like your family."

"Well…" Derek sighed, and scratched the back of his head, glancing up, as if searching for the words momentarily on the ceiling. He then yawned a bit – covering his mouth with his hand, and took a swivel of his coffee. "I think my family is very normal. I don't get along with them all the time. I do like my father but he's a complicated person – incredibly stubborn and opinionated. However," A smile touched Derek's face, like a ray of sunlight. "He's goddamn funny. Because he just says what he thinks to whoever, without caring about their reaction or opinion. And he acts like that's just completely normal."

"What do you mean?"

"Like…, I don't know. I can't think of a good example. He's can be incredibly blunt, sometimes to the point of being rude. When you meet him you'll understand better." Derek stretched his left arm, and rubbed his eye. It seemed he was still a bit tired.

"Does he ever say anything to you about your sexuality?" It was absolutely unique and bizarre to the inquisitor, to have parents that accepted their child for who they were, at least from Daniel's perspective. Daniel had no idea how his mother or father would react to the fact he was dating another male; but he suspected it would be a very bad reaction. He couldn't imagine his step father doing anything short of killing him.

Derek made a face, and relaxed, lying his arms on the tabletop. That countenance was distant; difficult to read, as if the boy's brain had lofted into the clouds. "Sometimes."

"Disproval?"

"…He usually says for me to get a girlfriend so he can have grandchildren. Or some shit." Derek took another sip of his coffee; the drink was getting cold. "I don't know why because my older brother is straight and can give him that.

"But I don't think I will marry a woman."

"Why do you say that?"

There was a shrug. "I can't predict the future, however – I can say I prefer men. I did tell you I was bisexual. And it's true that I am. For the past few years though, especially when I started dating Jack, I really felt myself much more often attracted to males than females."

Still feeling nosey, and hoping to discover a bit more about himself through Derek's answer, Daniel pried on, "Why's that exactly?"

Derek snorted – as if holding back a laugh. "I guess because I like dick too fucking much."

The younger teenager nearly went tomato-faced – not because of the crudeness of the response (it actually wasn't that unexpected, coming from Derek) but the subject matter. It did not bond well with his hormones.

Derek chuckled, "Your face," he drank some coffee. "Wish I had a camera."

Peeved by the teasing, Daniel shot back, "I wanted a serious fucking answer."

"That is a serious answer!" Derek explained jubilantly, and then paused. "Well there is more to it but. Well. I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Just that. I don't. I don't understand what I fucking want. So I just try new things constantly," Derek set his chin into his palm, smirking, the way Daniel envisioned posh New Yorkers doing at expensive eateries whilst discussing political or business matters, in that refined, sophisticated debonair wrought by luxurious, private education and a strict upbringing. Almost entirely untouched from poverty, separated from the planet in a glamorous world that only people who made fifty dollars an hour had access to. "So far, it seems to be working."

"Then I suppose it's working out for me too. The day I met you I couldn't imagine being on a fucking conversational level with you, let alone boyfriend."

"You're hurting my pride," Derek bit his lip to contain his smile, polished porcelain teeth flashing, and then added sultry as an afterthought, dubious to see Daniel's reaction; "I wanted you under me the second I met you."

A burning energy was kindled in Daniel's lower abdomen by the words –just the beginning of a small flame that could light a forest – chaffed like an open wound – he knew what that meant and mentally embraced it, physically craved it like the addict craves the needle, but was trying to appear externally calm - so he coolly replied, "Was that before or after you said you were going to beat the shit out of me?"

"I already apologized for that." Derek had pulled a cigarette from his pack of Marboro's which he'd taken from his pocket – he lit it and said, cigarette jumping between his teeth, "Goddamnit."

Daniel couldn't contain his grin. But just as he did, Derek seemed to realize something – and yanked the cigarette from between his teeth just before lighting it. "Wait. I forgot. Your repertory issue."

"I smoke too, you know," he replied, quite informatively. "Whether you do it or not won't make a difference."

"No," Derek stood, and made a show of throwing his pack of cigarettes right in the trash. It had been nearly full from what Daniel had seen – his background in poverty saw it as Derek literally throwing five dollars into the trash.

"Hey, don't throw that out! Fuck, I'll take them."

"I decided. We're quitting together."

Daniel's face expressed his irritation. "When did you decide that?"

"Just this second."

"What makes you think I'll comply?"

"Do you like the idea of me smoking?" The inquiry cased Daniel to reflect on the prospect of this concept. Of course, he didn't like the thought of Derek smoking. The blond seemed to smoke more often than even himself. It wasn't good for his health, even if his ashy flavored kisses were arousing. "You don't, do you?"

"Of course not."

"Well I don't like the idea of you smoking. You already have serious respiratory problems. Smoking will significantly increase them."

"Yes… I'm aware of that." You care more about my health than I do.

"So let's quit!" Derek said, hand clenched into a fist and raising it up. "Together."

"Together."

"Yes," Derek extended his hand out. "Give me your cigarettes."

You must be joking.

"…I don't think so."

"Oh, common!"

"Cigarettes are expensive." Daniel replied matter-of-factually. "I don't want to throw them out. My pack is more than half full."

"All the more reason to throw them out."

Daniel considered his current predicament, trying to envision a compromise. "Can't I just finish it? Then I'll stop."

"It shouldn't wait. The time to make a decision is now."

Daniel couldn't help but laugh; his boyfriend sounded like a fucking car salesmen.

"Daniel, I mean it! Please," An upsetting look crossed Derek's face. "What, do I have to beg?"

Oh god that should not have turned me on as much as it just did, Daniel tried to burn the image out of his mind.

…If you suck me off I'll quit smoking.

Shutup, Daniel.

"No, don't do that," Managing the answer slowly after the arousing deliberation, they had to be chewed and spit out. "I'll quit smoking tomorrow." After saying those words he had an intense craving to smolder through the entire pack – it's not like he hadn't done it before in one sitting, but it was ordinarily within conditions where he felt stressed enough to not be vigilant of the fact a pack of cigarettes cost him nearly an hour's pay.

Potentially, his last cigarette would be smoked today.

It was an awful thought.

"Alright. After tomorrow," the words made Daniel's stomach want to fall out. Derek's shoulders relaxed, as he resided to the concession. "You promise?"

A look of skepticism swept across Daniel's countenance. "I can't promise. But I'll try."

The grin Derek gave him was more elevating than any cigarette could be, Daniel thought.

-

-

-

-

"Fuck this shit."

"What?"

"French," Derek said, looking irritated, French textbook and grammar book in hand, which he had strayed to his locker to retrieve. "Their grammar is absolutely fucked!"

Daniel snorted, half-smiled at his boyfriend's frustration. "Have Jack tutor you?"

"I don't need his help," Derek answered, trying to salvage his pride. There had never been a time in his life where he had used a tutor, unless it was to get further ahead of other students that he was already ahead of. "At all."

"Oh?"

"I don't. He can't even explain it well to me. He didn't learn French and English together. His translation skills are shit to be honest. I absolutely did not say that, by the way."

Daniel was confused at the idea that someone could speak a second language but not be able to translate it. Though he didn't question it. In fact, he had no idea what intellectual level Jack stood on. Of course, the Canadian didn't seem stupid, maybe just a bit wilder than what was probably healthy.

"I still have an A in the class. The grammar is just hell. So is the pronunciation. It takes a lot of thought to do it correctly. Other languages come easily to me. Not this one."

"Everyone says it's similar to Spanish."

"People who say that don't know either language well enough to judge. However, Spanish is very similar to Italian, and Portuguese. French? Not so much." They continued to walk through the hallway at their leisure.

Towards the end of the hallway, Katie was standing where the row of lockers ended, scrutinizing the two boys with a transfixed gaze. Daniel was the one who spotted her first, that icy stare was like chilled breath perusing the back of his bare neck. They watched each other a moment, Derek's voice increasingly becoming a vague, muffled hum.

Katie, leave me alone.

I'm not your boyfriend anymore.

What I do with my life is none of your business.

A part of him dearly wanted to say those things, and to accuse the girl of not caring about what he did until he had actually made a new friend – however, he didn't, because she didn't deserve the satisfaction of being acknowledged; of knowing that her newfound presence peeved him so very much.

Where were you when I needed you the most?

Bitch.

It was very easy to justify the reasons why they weren't together anymore, and shouldn't be together. Without emotions, it all seemed very logical.

That, and he knew he couldn't love her like he had before ever again.

Those things aside, he had Derek now, and it was a great feeling to know that the memory of Katie would vanish forever from his mind with his boyfriend's presence; His damn-near perfect boyfriend who was better in so many ways, in every possible way.

Except for one.

When Derek seemed to notice the silent exchange, he paused with his gait, turning around, looking uncomfortable. "Daniel? You coming?"

"Yeah," Daniel heightened his pace, moving to walk down the steps and make another swivel, and soon the girl was out of sight once more.

"Sorry Derek," He apologized immediately, addressing the blond's uncomfortable look when they were out of earshot.

"You're not cheating on me by looking at her." Although the statement was true, Derek was contradicting himself, because his voice was one of mild irritation.

"I know. But I also know it bothers you. So I'm sorry."

Derek went quiet, and sighed. The bell had already rung – but it didn't matter. They both had lunch. "It's fine," he brushed it off. "You haven't done anything wrong."

Trying to quell his boyfriend's palpable disquiet, he continued; "I don't love her. I mean it. I don't even want to fucking see her."

"I think she wants you back."

"I don't fucking care what she fucking wants."

Derek scratched the side of his nose, expression tough to assess. Daniel had said the words so disparagingly it was difficult to question them. After a minute, the blonde's stance seemed to ease. "Alright Daniel," he said in mutual agreement. "I believe you. I trust you. Let's forget about it. What do you want to do?"

Daniel made a face, considering the proposal. "I want a cigarette." His boyfriend smiled.

"Do you want to go home?"

"Yes. I only have study hall after lunch. But what about your other classes?"

"Ah," Derek smiled sideways. "Fuck it."

It always made Daniel feel so juvenile – sneaking out of the building with his boyfriend, hopping into the Porsche like some vintage James Bond movie. In truth, escaping the premise undetected was not nearly as difficult as it should have been – it was damned obvious the cameras placed all over the building were seldom watched– but it still made him feel like a master escapee all the same. They were so pathetic, but they were pathetic together, which made all the difference.

-

-

-

Back at Derek's apartment, Derek decided to get on with the cooking, and in-between his French studying. Daniel on the other hand, thought it was about time he called his father to explain some things. It was a slightly overdue. Derek loaned Daniel his cell phone, and Daniel sat in the living room, staring at the phone for a moment; bracing himself for what could potentially be a bad reaction.

Common, do this.

It had been a little over two months since they had last spoken – Daniel forgot what the topic was about. Trying to recollect it, he sat back in the sofa, thinking.

Oh yeah. He said he wanted to visit me.

But I think my stepfather would not allow it…

-Enough procrastinating, he snapped at himself, sitting up, staring at the phone, an uncomfortable, queasy feeling beginning to set into his stomach, as if he were about to present a speech to his classmates. It wasn't that it was so hard to talk to his father. Daniel just didn't know how he was going to explain the whole moving-out thing. His father had never made it a secret that he disliked his ex-wife's new husband, but would he approve of Daniel's living situation?

Stop being a pussy - he'll get over it, with that resolution, Daniel began to dial the number he had memorized so long ago, reminding himself to dial the New Jersey area code with it.

And the phone rang, and rang.

His heart sank after the first few rings.

You better fucking pick up.

As soon as he thought the phone would go on voicemail, someone answered the phone.

"Hello?"

It was a woman's voice. Daniel didn't recognize her.

"Can I speak to Aleksy?" It was rare Daniel used his Father's first name.

"Who is this?"

"His son."

"Oh! Is this is Daniel?" she suddenly exclaimed, sounding excited. "It's your Aunt Celina."

"Oh, hi."

"Your voice sounds so different! It sounds so much deeper! You're all grown up aren't you? How old are you now?"

Daniel secretly thanked god that this was over the phone and not in person, otherwise his cheeks would probably be getting pinched. It was tough to recollect the last he had seen of his aunt; not since his grandmother had passed awat he didn't think. But that was because she lived in California. "I'm 16."

"Jak sie masz?" (How are you?)

Oh great. Here we go with the Polish I barely remember.

Daniel's head began to spin. With much difficult he tried to switch his brain to Polish, something he hadn't done since his youth. The effort was terribly forced.

"Świetnie." (I'm fine)

She started to babble off in rapid-fire Polish. Daniel understood something involving his cousin, her age, and whatever else… but there was too much he did not comprehend, too many verbs and words where he grasped at the meaning, and it fell from his fingers like sand. It all sounded so familiar, so very familiar, but so strange and unknown and foreign at the same time. Maybe if she hadn't gabbled at such an astonishing speed he would have been able to pick up on all of it, but he just couldn't.

"Aunt Celina-I don't understand what you're saying."

The other end of the line went silent as the words sank in. "You don't? But you could speak Polish last time we spoke-"

"I know. Sorry, but I need to speak to my father."

She muttered something inaudible, Daniel's heart clenched up at the sudden quietness on the other end of the line as he awaited the deep, familiar bellow of his father's voice: like the hollowness of a drum.

"Hello?"

Daniel swallowed nervously at that simple, one word greeting; it instigated a great amount of fear. Almost like the prelude orchestra music of a horror film.

"Hi, Dad."

"Daniel? Is that you?"

"Yeah," he licked his lips, which felt dry, and ran a hand through his hair, realizing as he did that he was picking up his boyfriend's anxiety-related habits. He forced himself to stop, and take a deep breath, clenching the fist that had just been in his hair, nails digging into the flesh of his palm like miniscule spikes.

"Where the hell are you? Your mother called me. She thought you were here!"

This information surprised him, but he gathered his thoughts and continued.

"I moved out. I'm living with my-" boyfriend, "-with a friend." It was hard to lie in a state of nervousness.

"Why did you do that? You should have called me." The voice on the other end of the line was frustrated, on the brink of anger.

"I'm sorry, you know I'm not allowed to use that phone, I'm actually borrowing a friend's…"

An aggravated sigh on the other end of the line, as the father considered his son's situation.

"Where the hell is this place?"

"It's closer to center city in Philadelphia. It's really nice."

"Can you afford to do this?"

"Yeah.. it's not so expensive…" Actually it's fucking free, but if I say that he's going to start wondering why it is.

I can't imagine how much this apartment costs... I don't even want to know…

"As long as it's not in North Philly."

"It's not."

There was another pause, and his father abruptly switched the topic. "I want you to come up here for Thanksgiving. And bring your roommate, if he's not busy. I want to meet him. Most of the family is going to be here. They want to see you."

But do you want to see me? That was the thought that wavered through Daniel's head.

"…Alright, I'll come." The words came out burning on his tongue – even though he agreed every year. He was actually amazed his father somewhat gave him the option this time – maybe because he finally realized Daniel was older, that now that he'd moved out he'd need to be paying bills, supposedly. Paying the bills meant working, and low-end jobs usually worked through holidays.

Derek wants to meet you too, so…

I can't really hide everything from him…

The thought made his stomach a little sick, as if a giant, chilled snake was slithering into his lower abdomen.

Chewing his words out like plastic liquorish, he forced the inquiry, "What day?"

"Come two days before Thanksgiving. I need your help with the cooking."

It was hard to be elevated by the thought of engaging in his most cherished pastime when he was so goddamned nervous. How would it be to have Derek around his family? How would they react to him? Daniel didn't want to be, but he suddenly felt immensely embarrassed. He hoped there would be no fighting, that his father would not yell at him, at least not in Derek's presence. Not to mention, Derek came from an incredibly wealthy family. Although his father was well off, he wasn't sure how his boyfriend would react to being in that setting.

"Alright." He agreed, voice hitched, almost thinking his voice would break but it did not.

"I'll see you then, son. We're going to have a bit of a talk when you come here."

Alright, fine… fucking whatever...

"Sure…" The teenager's voice was less than enthusiastic at that notion.

"I'll get you a nice suit when you get here. But I have to go now," voices in the background on the other line, a constant chatter. "Goodbye."

"Bye."

The call ended. A quivering exhale escaped Daniel's lips, like a howling winter wind – he closed Derek's cell phone, and lay down, curling up on the bed and thinking hard.

I have a bad feeling about this…

-

-

A few hours later, and dinner was prepared, and being served. Trying to bring some variety to their diets, Derek had made clam soup, which was actually quite good. Although Derek was no cooking advocate, he was fairly skilled at the practice.

He's good at everything, Daniel thought, sighing to himself, sipping soup diligently and figuring he needed to tell Derek about his Father's plans.

Derek had his glasses on; and was half-studying, half-reading, the pages and kitchen lights reflected moderately in his spectacles. His boyfriend watched him for a moment, eyes roaming over that smooth complexion, his long, thin forearms, to the focus on Derek's face, his pale, straight mouth, becoming more anxious with every passing second and somehow more aroused, feeling his face flush, his fingers unnaturally tense around his silverware.

…Common.

He wanted to kick himself out of this trance.

Get fucking on with it.

"Derek?"

"Yes?" The blond answered, not looking up from the textbook, and brushed his hair from his face.

"My father wants me to come over for Thanksgiving."

That caught his attention. Diverted from his studying, Derek looked up with a discerning countenance. He then smiled that smile that was like a ray of sunshine over a snow-kissed field.

"That's good."

"He wants to meet you."

Derek blinked, and then seemed a bit confounded. "Oh… really?"

"Yes…. Well, he left the invitation open," hesitatingly, Daniel asked, "Do you want to come?"

The blond nodded. "I would like to. I want to spend Thanksgiving with you."

That reply filled Daniel's heart with warmth. With you. Because of you. It was something he so scantly heard. Momentum momentarily broken, he forced himself to continue.

"What about your family?"

The inquiry took a second to sink in, and after it had Derek rolled his eyes, and chuckled. "My father doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving."

"Why not?"

Pulling his glasses from the bridge of his nose and clutching for his nearby case, Derek explained, "He thinks it's too American." The teenager delicately slid the glasses in and snapped the case shut. He sighed, and closed his textbook.

"Done studying?"

"Oui."

Daniel smiled – well, at least I can understand that – and sipped some wine, not sure where Derek acquired the bottle, nor did he question it. It flared in his mouth – and burned going down his throat. The wine was splendid, an excellent accompaniment to dinner, not to mention, it tasted rather expensive. It was one of those things the wealthy probably enjoyed on a daily basis, though Daniel had seldom had. Wine was too costly. Vodka was expensive also, but at least a bottle of Vodka could last. Not to mention, Vodka was strong – it made you drunk very quickly. The only reason why he'd ever really drank it.

"I love alcohol," Derek remarked, refilling the glass and drinking.

"All alcohol?"

Derek hummed a nonchalant 'mmhmm', downing the red liquid in one long swallow, holding it in his mouth for a bit to let his tongue absorb the warm taste, not unlike a sponge.

"Don't love it too much," Daniel said, speaking from experience though Derek did not know it, setting his spoon down in his soup. There was some left, but he was too full to finish. Standing, Daniel gathered his silverware, bowl, and plate – and carried it along to the sink. There, he ran a touch of water and began to scour them. Derek had a washing machine, but the goddamn thing might as well have been there just for display – he never used it, because Derek claimed it wasn't as sanitary as cleaning by hand. Although it might have irritated someone else, Daniel let it go. The silverware all belonged to Derek. He knew that unhygienic dishes perturbed Derek more than it would someone else, and that the blond was not trying to be galling but trying to cope with a past mental illness, so he simply did them, and said nothing on the matter.

Arms came around him. Daniel near jolted out of his skin, not having heard the scrap of the chair's legs from being pulled out and pushed in, nor Derek's footsteps coming up behind him. As Daniel rinsed the soap from his hands, Derek's grip clasped more strongly, the weight of his arms pushing into Daniel's chest and belly, and the blond smothered his neck in kisses and light nips.

Daniel shuddered, forgetting the dishes instantly, which he had finished anyway but had not set on the counter to dry on the rack – he half sighed, half moaned and his hands met where Derek's rested on either side of his body. He inhaled sharply when Derek's teeth gripped his skin – and exhaled when it was released, and the blonde's lukewarm, thick tongue lapped at the light wound fervently.

He's going to give me a fucking hicky, The thought was foggy, somewhere in the back of Daniel's mind, the part of him that remained vaguely aware of the physical world, beyond his internal lust and Derek's touches.

Suddenly Derek's arms had loosened, and a few seconds later his hands creeping up Daniel's shirt. Daniel gasped stridently at the sudden contact of Derek's shockingly cold hands on his warm stomach, which jolted him to his lower belly, and he arched his body without thought; yearning for the touch of those large hands on every part of his flesh, greedy to possess this sensation.

Derek was a bit surprised by how flat Daniel's waist was – but the observation blurred away, and with a half smirk, he pushed the entire length of both his arms up Daniel's shirt, which was a tad awkward given the position.

Common, Daniel…

Let go.

In situations like these, Derek considered himself a bit of an expert when it came to finely tuning a person's sexual desire. Of course, to some extend, it had to begin slow to be truly worth savoring; like the steady prelude of a nocturne's theme; tip-toes of sounds, the little cry of a violin, the weeping sound of a cello, before progressively building in speed, momentum, gathering, gaining power, force and volume; until there was a clash, a rapid firing of sound from all instruments, ascending and descending, briskly, up and down in octaves and – the orgasm of the nocturne – before it cried out, the pace fell, dying down to the weak whimper of a few violins; like the tide pulling back with the morning sun; and one long, final bellow that came like a sigh, giving way to the end.

Essentially, it was the same thing as music; Derek slipped a thumb over Daniel's nipple, tweaking it lightly, feeling that nub harden under his thumb and forefinger – the small touch shot a fire of new arousal through Daniel's body, and Derek felt his boyfriend shudder against him. He was probably not used to being taken like this; males were always in the lead. But it made it all the more interesting, and potentially, or at least Derek hoped – more galvanizing.

Derek hadn't had sex in almost a month; and the feeling of pent-up arousal was becoming remarkably unbearable. It had been unusual to go without it more than a week when he'd been dating Jack; and even when he wasn't dating Jack. He didn't know how far this would go, and although he wanted to give Daniel time, his body didn't seem to want to cooperate with his brain.

Moving ahead with what he started, Derek distracted his boyfriend with kisses to the opposite side of his neck – Daniel lent into him, arching his neck like a swan– Derek's hands running back down to Daniel's stomach, and gripped the end of the shirt-

So good, Was all Daniel could think, not opposing to his boyfriend's caresses, eyes pinched shut – he could feel his dick begin to harden in his jeans, wanting Derek's hand there, knowing well that he shouldn't want it, that this was too fast, and why the fuck was Derek doing this – questions that all seemed so insignificant against Derek's hands and body and against the occasional squirm of tongue on his neck that sent a thrill from the tip of Daniel's jaw to his toes; making his stomach queasy with and his head dizzy with burning lust.

A part of fog cleaned from his mind when his shirt began to come up – instantaneously, like drawing his finger back from a burn – he straightened, and tugged it back down, face going a deep red, further induced by embarrassment.

Derek stopped quickly at the opposition, leaning away from his boyfriend, blinking.

Daniel turned back to face him, looking down, twisting the cloth of his shirt in his hands. He mumbled, just barely audible, "I can't do this right now." Before the blond had time to react, Daniel rushed out of the kitchen and went to lock himself in the bedroom.

Fuck, Derek thought next, worrying he'd insulted the boy and went after him.

Alas, he found that Daniel had locked himself in the bathroom.

Hesitating, Derek knocked on the bathroom door.

"Daniel?"

No answer.

"Daniel, please come out. I'm sorry. I'm just… god," Derek thudded his head against the bathroom door, eyes shutting tightly. He felt like ripping his hair out.

I'm sorry, I was thinking with my dick.

Again.

I just want you so fucking bad.

That's not an excuse… he told himself, and tried to continue.

"Please come out. Let's talk about this. I won't do anything."

"I'm going to take a shower!" Was the sudden answer from between the bathroom walls.

Not sure how to reply to that, the blond went quiet. It might've been funny if he wasn't so fucking horny, and not to mention angry at his own libido. But his arousal had slowly faded off – except for the slight tingle he got from recalling the feeling of his tongue on Daniel's throat.

Derek sighed, resigning. There was no way he was going to force the bathroom door open, even if he could've. It was better to give Daniel some time to cool off, he supposed. "Alright."

Deciding it was probably best not to remain in the bedroom, uneasily Derek roamed back out of the room, to the living room – where he sat down and watched some television, resisting the dire urge to jack off. Instead, he watched a show that would turn him off as quickly as he'd been turned on – one discussing problems within the Catholic Church.

-

Once Derek's footsteps had faded, Daniel began to carefully relax, and saw himself in the mirror – face somewhat flushed, eyes a bit glazed – he dashed for the faucet, turned the water on ice-cold and slapped some on, patting his face perhaps a little too hard. It helped somewhat, but there was still an unmistakable budge in his jeans.

Thick rivets of shockingly cold water ran down his face, burning against where he hit himself, and he licked it from his lips, and took a stabilizing breath.

After that, Daniel gripped the edge of the sink with hands constricted into white, and shook, allowing himself crumble to the floor, and curled up, hugging his knees into his chest and squeezing his eyes shut.

Goddamnit…

I shouldn't have let him go that far.

I'm such a fucking IDIOT!

Gritting his teeth, churning his fist into his temple, he reminded himself,

But he shouldn't have done it in the first place.

That was too close, Daniel opened his eyes, unfurling, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt – staring at the dark scars that lay there after years of abuse. He ran two fingers over the uneven texture.

Standing straight once again, wrought by an abrupt desire, he ripped off his shirt – and looked at himself in the mirror.

It was hard not to look without becoming upset. Rapidly, his original arousal disintegrated, superseded by a profound shame as his reflection stared back at him; the evil twin in the mirror, reminding him what he thought of himself and what he truly was.

What kind of fool would want me?

Thick pinkish and red scars marred his body, from his right wrist all the way up his arm, a few marks on his chest, a zigzagging of various lines and shapes and words, all created in a fit of frustration, rage, failure, and the overwhelming sadness that was beyond his mental control. There were so many marks on his right arm that there were only a minute amount of small patches of untouched skin. He couldn't fathom what Derek's reaction would be; shock, disgust, rage?

Overwhelmed with repugnance, Daniel forced himself to turn away; he did not want to go into such a deep trance of despair that he would end up cutting again to relief himself of it. Instead, dawdling he undid his pants, and stripped them off with his underwear – opening the shower door, turning the knob on for warm water. Zoning out, he tried to unearth a place within mind separated from sadness, arousal, hate, any thought whether consisting of the physical or mental: a void of complete bliss.

-

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Daniel felt relieved after the shower, mind momentarily wiped clean of what had happened. He cleaned up the bathroom as best he could, and after a second of bracing himself, cracked open the bathroom door to look out into the room, with his opposite hand holding the towel around his waist.

"Derek? You in here?"

No answer. Daniel checked that the bedroom door was closed. Figuring it was safe, he opened the door, gripping his towel lightly. Quickly he rushed to the bedroom door and locked it for good measure. There was the quiet hum of the television in the living room – Daniel figured Derek was in there.

He got dressed in fresh clothes, throwing the dirty ones into a separate hamper Derek had loaned him. Trying to dry off his hair as best he could, he looked himself over the mirror, attempting to look as best he could before going stepping out of the room to see his boyfriend.

Satisfied with how he looked, he ventured out of the room, into the short corridor. Two turns later, he was in the poking his head in the living room to see what Derek was doing.

Derek seemed tired. The wine bottle was out again, and he was filling – or refilling - himself a glass. The show on the television was unfamiliar – a nun was giving a speech to a group of peers, dressed in the dark gown typical to the Church.

"Hurry up you old bitch," Derek said, sighing and sinking back down into the couch, downing the glass, his New York accent particularly thick in that sentence, for whatever reason. It seemed to come out when he was angry. Daniel snorted with brief laughter – instantly covering his mouth as if to destroy the sound had been created. But it was too late. It caught Derek's attention, and the blond instantly looked in the direction the sound had come from.

"Shit. You scared me."

"Hey."

Becoming immediately disquieted, Derek replied with a low "Hi."

"Can I join you?"

"Of course." He smiled weakly, trying to gloss over his unease. In truth, he wasn't exactly sure how to redeem himself.

Daniel sat next to Derek on the couch – at a comfortable distance. Not because he was mad, but because a physical distance seemed appropriate at the time.

Trying to get Derek to relax, he asked, "Since when are you religious?" Referring to the show.

"Oh. I'm atheist. But it's interesting to watch sometimes." His boyfriend paused. "I find it amazing the bullshit people believe, and how seriously people take it." Derek turned away from Daniel, looking at the screen, shrugging, still troubled. "-Just because some asshole was smart enough to write it all down."

"I agree."

Derek sighed, staring at the floor without really seeing anything, twiddling his fingers. Daniel found it adorable.

"Look I –" He took a deep breath. For some reason, seeing Derek so nervous filled Daniel's heart with a mushy warmness. It showed he cared. "I'm sorry for what I did. I don't know how to make it up to you. Um," the blond swallowed. "You can hit me if you want."

That a got a laugh from Daniel – until he saw Derek was serious.

Becoming solemn, Daniel straightened, and said flatly, "I am not going to hit you."

"Pfft," Derek rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not like Jack hasn't."

"Jack has hit you?"

"Once. Well, he slapped me. He was very angry with me about something ridiculous. It was a long time ago. He apologized for it, anyway," not sure what to do with his fingers anymore, Derek picked up his glass of wine and sipped. "In truth he's not capable of much damage.

But anyway, Daniel, I am really sorry. I… lost control. It's hard because I'm so used to…" trying to decide if it was appropriate or not to the say the word, Derek decided it was and went ahead and did, "I'm just used to having sex. So it's really frustrating. Of course that's not an excuse but I-"

"Derek, it's fine. I'm not pissed off."

"You're not?"

"No."

Surprised by the information, Derek looked up at him. Then why did you stop?

Don't ask that.

"Why not?"

Daniel made a face. "I'm just not really ready yet. Sorry. You know, I don't have a lot of confidence and-"

"Are you nuts? Have you ever looked in a mirror?"

Daniel went red, turning his face away.

Yes, I have.

And I don't like what I see.

"I promised I wouldn't pressure you," Derek replied, slicing like a sword, splintering Daniel's musings. "So I won't do that again."

"…okay."

So long as we have that understanding….

But really, it's flattering that you want me that much…

I've only had sex a handful of times, and it's been a long time since I've had it, so maybe that's why I can hold back-

Then again depression will kill your libido.

And I guess I never really enjoyed it… I don't know so much about really enjoying it. I didn't dislike it, but…

"So, you forgive me?"

Daniel shrugged. "There's nothing to forgive. You didn't force me."

"I know. But I still started it."

Seeing as how Derek was continuing to chase after a baseless forgiveness, Daniel gave in.

"Fine then. I forgive you."

Derek gave him that smile that put butterflies in his stomach. "Come 'ere."

Hesitating at first, but then tentatively, Daniel scooted closer to Derek's half of the couch – and the teenager wrapped a strong arm around him, pulling him close to the warmth of his body, hugging him tightly.

Derek brushed Daniel's hair from his forehead – not a whole lot now, after it had been cut - and kissed him there – sending a warm glow through Daniel's body.

"I love you." Daniel stiffened at the words, taken by surprise, and felt his ears burn a tingling red.

Mouth dry, he mumbled back, "I love you too, Derek." Although he didn't say it with much force behind it, he truly meant it.

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A/N: Yeah.. I don't really like this chapter much. But it's a necessary prelude for the next part. Next chapter will be pretty significant stuff. It's been a chapter I've been really looking forward to writing.

A shout out to sirkurtsie and LoStInMyTeArS who both told me in the same week to get off my behind and update. Thanks for the encouragement, guys. : ) I would have replied back but thought it'd be neater to put your names here.

I am sorry for how long this took, it's true I am quite busy with life. There is nothing more I would like than to lock myself in a room and write all day long.. But you know, I got bills to pay, classes to go to, sad for me.

Anyway, thanks for reading.