Chapter 3: Of Sacks of Sugar and Elizabethan Bribes

"Uhnh," Moss whined. He'd been stuck in this closet with Princess Camlin for what felt like hours now, and he could still hear the shrill laughter of the bridge bitches from the dining room. He dropped his head back and felt it crack painfully on a shelf behind him.

"There's a wall there." Camlin said with a hint of laughter.

"Thanks bastard." Moss spat, angrily rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head.

"Temper, temper." Camlin said with a few clicks of his tongue. "You really shouldn't take such a fierce tone with your superiors."

Through the dark, Moss ticked up his middle finger and didn't care at all that Camlin couldn't see it.

"What's your problem anyway?" Camlin asked after a few moments. Moss wondered if the boy could be quiet for more than three seconds. He highly doubted it.

"My problem? What makes you think I have a problem?" Moss asked dryly, pain still throbbing through his skull. He pressed his fingers down on the tender lump under his hair.

"Well I don't know, your over there moaning and whining and-"

"Jesus, you make it sound like I'm having a good fuck right here in the closet."

"Well I-"

"Fact is," Moss continued darkly, "That's exactly my problem."

"What is?"

"You're dense, you know that?"

"I attend one of the most prestigious schools in the country and receive the highest marks in my grade level, I am not dense." Camlin said defensively.

"Yeah? Well I attend a cheap ass public school and receive failing marks on just about everything I bother to turn in and let me tell you kid, you are dense." Moss countered.

"Fine then, enlighten me." Camlin said with a huff.

"It's really none of your business." Moss said, frustration surging through him.

"Fine." Camlin answered shortly. "But I'm not dense."

"Do you ever shut up?" Moss asked suddenly, stretching his sore legs out in front of him.

"Yes."

"When?" He asked, massaging his calves and groaning softly at the tension in them.

"Just then," Camlin said, feet gently nudging into Moss's legs on accident.

"What?" He crossed his legs and dealt with the numbness.

"Just then, when you asked me if I ever shut up, I didn't make a sound when you asked that." Camlin said, clearly proud of himself. Moss rolled his eyes and sighed.

"That doesn't count."

"Yes it does."

"No, it doesn't." Moss said, a little louder.

"Yes, it really does." Camlin argued, rising to meet Moss's volume level.

"No it-shhh!"

"I wasn't saying anything-" Moss put his hand on Camlin's leg, effectively silencing him. He leaned forward, listening intently to the sounds coming from the kitchen. His heart drummed in his chest until he knew for sure the person he had heard coming had left the room once again. His mother must have just been coming to get more drinks or something.

"What are you-" Camlin began shakily.

"I thought I heard someone coming." Moss said, sagging with the relief of not being caught.

A breath of air fanned out over the side of his face and he realized how close he was to Camlin. He also noticed that his hand was still on Camlin's thigh. He yanked back and curled up against the wall in his previous position. "Sorry," he muttered softly, glad that Camlin couldn't see his ashamed blush. The poor boy probably thought Moss would jump him at any moment.

"Do you ever shut up?" The servant boy asked him, and Camlin blinked in shock. How dare this boy talk to him that way? Camlin practically owned Moss and he showed no respect whatsoever. And by God, he could damn well shut up if he wanted to, but he didn't want to. So there.

"Yes." He said defensively, pouting.

"When?" Moss had the nerve to ask.

"Just then." Camlin said, grinning as he always did when he was going to win an argument. His feet nudged into something soft and warm and he wondered what it was.

"What?" Moss asked and the warm cushion moved. Camlin blushed when he realized it had been Moss's legs.

"Just then," He continued, pretending not to have noticed touching Moss at all. "When you asked me when I ever shut up, I didn't talk when you asked that." He finished proudly, knowing he was right.

He heard Moss sigh. "That doesn't count."

"Yes it does." Camlin said defiantly. He had shut up. Moss had never specified the length of shut up time. He'd just said shut up.

"No it doesn't." Moss said, voice rising.

"Yes it really does." Camlin disagreed, matching his volume to Moss's.

"No it-shhh!"

Camlin blinked, thrown off by the sudden change in flow. "I wasn't saying anything-" A warm hand pressed on his thigh and his voice cut out. Moss leaned forward and Camlin could make out the line of his side profile in the dark. His heart thudded, and the heat from Moss's hand was causing a burning feeling to spread through his stomach to somewhere more private.

Oh god, not again. Please no.

"What are you-" Camlin began, cut off by the sudden need to swallow.

"I thought I heard someone coming." Moss said, pressing into him further, causing Camlin's breath to catch and release heavily.

Moss yanked back and leaned against the wall again. "Sorry," he murmured softly. Camlin drooped with relief, getting a control on himself again.

"So do you think they'll leave soon?" Camlin asked, uncomfortable in the awkward silence.

"I don't know, usually I'm lucky enough to escape these nights. Don't you know?"

"No, usually I'm lucky enough to escape as well, only tonight mother had another suitor for me to meet." Camlin said, rolling his eyes at the thought of Elizabeth flaunting herself in front of him. He almost cackled, though, at the thought of her wondering where he was now.

"Suitor?" Moss asked in disbelief. "Aren't those men?"

I wish. Camlin thought suddenly, feeling heat flood into his cheeks. "Well, ok, not a suitor, a female to capture my affections. It's almost the same thing."

"Your mom finds people for you to date?"

"Not to date. To marry. I suppose you're going to laugh at me about that, too? It's not as if it's my decision. If it was up to me, I'd choose-" a man.

"You'd choose…?" Moss probed gently.

"Not Elizabeth." Camlin finished lamely, feeling flustered.

"That sucks." Moss said quietly.

"Yes it does." Camlin said bitterly. "Especially when your mother knows you as well as mine knows me. If you asked her how old I was, she'd probably stammer for a few minutes before brushing it off as an insignificant question."

"Seventeen."

"What?" Camlin asked, heart thumping again.

"You're seventeen, same as me." Moss said.

"How do you know that?" Camlin asked desperately.

"Just do." Moss said.

"What time do you think it is?" Camlin asked, ready to change the subject because this one was making his cheeks burn.

"I don't know, probably about seven thirty?" Moss guessed.

"That's good, they should be leaving soon. Mother goes to bed at eight no matter what."

"Well, since you're missing she might break her routine to look for you."

"I doubt it." Camlin said with a shrug. For once it was good that his mom paid him little attention. If Elizabeth hadn't found her yet, he doubted his mother even noticed him gone.

"So it's got to be eight by now right?" Camlin asked for the fifth time.

"For christ's sake! I don't know! Why don't you check?" Moss said angrily.

"Goodness, no need to get your panties in a bunch…" Moss heard a near by shuffling and saw the outline of Camlin as he reached for the door knob. "Oh no." Camlin murmured softly.

"What now?" Moss asked warily, praying it wasn't what he thought it was.

"The door's locked."

"Shit!" Moss cried, jumping up and pushing Camlin to the side. He twisted the knob back and forth desperately, but it wouldn't open. "Who the hell locks a pantry?"

Camlin groaned. "It was one of my mom's stupid dieting schemes. To keep my dad from eating after dinner. Our moms are the only ones with the key."

"God, why is your mom so stupid?" Moss said, picking up a can of something and slamming it down in an attempt to relieve his anger.

"Don't call my mother stupid." Camlin said without much conviction.

Moss raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"So, we're stuck here?"

"Looks like it." Moss said.

"Can't we scream for help or something?" Camlin asked hopefully.

"My mom's already gone back to the house and I doubt your mom would hear us from her room."

"I am not sleeping a closet, I'm a Lonnette. We don't sleep in closets. We sleep in king size beds with goose feather pillows and silk sheets with beautiful people."

Moss scowled and sat down. "You know, for one minute there, I thought maybe you weren't such a stuck-up prick. That speech just proved me wrong."

Camlin didn't seem to have heard as he was currently still ranting. "I can't sleep without a pillow!"

"Use your arm." Moss said, pillowing his own head on his forearm.

"Then it'll go numb!" Camlin whined. "Give me your shirt, I'll use that."

"Use your own shirt!" Moss said, getting very wound up. This boy just didn't know when to stop, did he?

"No, then I'll be cold!"

"But if I give you my shirt I'll be cold!"

"I don't care!"

Moss had to pause to keep from punching Camlin in the nose. "Listen, we've got all night to put up with each other and I don't know about you, but I'd like to spend most of it asleep so I don't have to deal with you. So, you can use this bag of sugar for a pillow."

"But it's not soft." Camlin muttered softly.

"It's either that or a can of corn."

"Fine, I'll take the sugar." Moss shoved the five pound sack towards Camlin and Camlin laid his head down on it. "This definitely isn't goose feather."

"You are such a baby." Moss said, rolling his eyes and laying back down.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Go to sleep, Camlin." Moss broke in, closing his eyes and trying to sleep although he was far from tired.

"Night," Camlin murmured.

"G'night," Moss answered. He felt a foot press into his calf and pause there, uncertain. He didn't move and the foot stayed there until after he fell asleep.

"Moss Roger Hensley!" Camlin jumped, eyes flying open. "Is this where you've been all night? What are you doing?"

Camlin listened to Moss stammer for a minute before the moment he dreaded happened. "Camlin, honey, what are you doing in here…with him?" his mother pronounced the 'him' like she was addressing a dirty tissue. Camlin tensed and Moss turned red.

Both boys crawled out of the closet and stood, wincing at their aching limbs.

"Well?" Both mothers asked, hands on hips.

"He wouldn't let me leave!" Both boys shouted simultaneously. They glared at each other.

"Liar," Moss growled.

"Fraud," Camlin countered.

"Boys!" Moss's mother cut in.

"Camlin, I believe you pumpkin. I knew this boy was trouble when I took him in. And after that show last night…and now this! I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with him living with us anymore."

"Oh no," Moss's mother said, hand to her mouth.

"Please, don't!" Moss yelled.

"Mother!" Camlin said, jaw dropping.

"Well, I'm sorry; I just don't think it's going to work out." With that she turned and clicked out of the room with her talon heels and tight skirt. Camlin looked at Moss. His head was down and his eyes were closed and his jaw was clenched. His mother was struggling not to cry.

"I-" Camlin started, knowing this was his fault. Moss looked up at him and Camlin swallowed, feeling the hate crackling in the air. Camlin ran out of the room after his mother.

He caught up with her in the parlor. "Mother, please, don't fire them."

"I'm surprised at you Camlin, what has gotten into you?" His mother asked, perching daintily on the couch, glancing out the window to see if any one was watching her posing. She primped her hair a bit and waved at a jogger.

"Nothing, just…don't fire them, ok?" Camlin asked, his voice laced with worry.

"Why shouldn't I, darling?"

"Well, well because," Camlin fumbled to find a reason that wouldn't get him into trouble, "because you're the one who's always going on about being charitable. And mother, this family needs charity. And," he paused, taking a grim breath before throwing in the selling point. "If you let them stay, I'll take Elizabeth out to dinner." He closed his eyes at the ear piercing squeal his mother let loose.

"Oh Cam darling, I knew you'd like her! Your mother always knows best!"

"I didn't say I-" Camlin tried to say.

"Oh this is wonderful, I'll call Cindy and work out the arrangements!" She hurried off in the direction of the phone.

"So what about Moss?" Camlin called after her, leaning out of the room.

"Moss? Oh, him, yes, well he can stay I suppose, as long as he doesn't cause any more trouble."

Camlin listened to his mother's shrill conversation voice, declaring his love for Elizabeth over the phone, and wondered why the hell one night in the closet with Moss made him do something so completely out-of-character like care about someone else's well-being.

"I-" He heard Camlin start. He looked up and poured all his fury into that one gaze. Camlin had ruined his life, his mom's life. What were they going to do now?

Camlin's expression drooped and Moss wanted him to beg for forgiveness, which he wouldn't give of course. Camlin strode purposefully out of the room.

That's right, run to your mommy you bastard.

"Mom-" Moss began, hearing his mother sniffle. She walked out of the room, too. She pulled open the back door and disappeared out onto the back lawn, leaving the door open behind her.

"Damn it!" Moss yelled, slamming his open hand down on the counter top. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and left it there, trying to find a way out of this mess.

With a sigh and no answers, he followed his mom out of the house, closing the door softly behind him. The lawn angel smiled up at him, same as always and he almost screamed in rage.

Calm down, getting this worked up is not going to help things any. Just breathe, you'll figure something out, you always do.

His mom was crying softly in her bed room when he got back. He sunk onto the bed and cradled his head in his hands.

Ok, so you just have to march back up to the house and beg for forgiveness. If you have to, offer to clean the toilets or something. And if worse comes to worst, just tell them you'll leave and mom can stay.

He stood up and walked back across the lawn, rehearsing his speech in his head. He pulled open the back door and stepped cautiously inside. "Mrs. Lonnette?" He called, peering out of the kitchen into the dining room.

He found her in the parlor, hanging up the phone. "Mrs. Lonnette, I just wanted to apologize for all the trouble I caused, I was wondering if there was any way that I could-"

"What are you talking about, boy?" Mrs. Lonnette asked.

"I just-I mean, you just fired us and-" Moss stuttered.

"Nonsense, Camlin wouldn't have it. He's got much too big of a heart." Moss had to consciously make an effort not to roll his eyes. "What are you still standing there for? There's a lot to be done if Elizabeth is coming for dinner. Where's that mother of yours?"

"She's up at the house." He said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder towards the backyard.

"Well go get her; I need some major cleaning done. Pay close attention to Camlin's room, just in case he decides invite her up there after dinner."

"I will, thank you ma'am." Moss called happily as she left the room. It didn't matter that he had to clean all day, or that he'd probably be on house arrest for the rest of his life. It only mattered that he got to tell his mom he'd fixed things. Sort of.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews so far!!

I keep getting more ideas for this story every day. Updates should start happening more regularly in a few weeks because school will be out, yay!

And…if you've never seen the movie Latter Days…see it. Haha.