The Memoirs

"See that body go bum bum bum."

 

"Bump, shake it mommy!"

 

"Man, she can move!"

 

"Girl, that’s enough, stop moooovin'!"

 

Why had he said yes? Honestly? Why had he agreed to... to... all this? WHY was he SITTING in a SITTING ROOM, with sixteen pairs of jeans on his lap, two girls in the dressing room in front of him, and white girl teenie boppers in the aisle singing rap?!

 

WHY, GOD?! WHY?!

 

He shifted. Bit down the whine. And passed a glance over at Whitney. They shared a brain dead look...then leaned back against the chairs that were way too small for masculine asses. It was supposed to be a chair, not an alien anal probe.

 

Whitney was definitely feeling Pete's pain.  Being a half foot taller and a half foot broader, he was even more uncomfortable in these tiny-ass, passing-for-chairs, instruments of torment and discomfort.

 

"Dude... Pete... I got an idea.  Ditch the jeans; they'll never know you're not buried under the pile, and we'll get out of here.  There's a Champs store right down the hall from here.  We can hide in the hockey gear section, and they'll never find us."

 

"Thought of it. But man, you don’t know Chloe like I do. She's got friggin radar for that shit." Pete made antennae with his fingers, wriggled them about and nodded sadly. "All she’s got to go is sniff the air. Crazy shit, dude."

 

Whitney looked desperate.  "I'm losing my mind, Pete.  This chair?  Crawling up my ass.  This music?  Causing my brain to slowly hemorrhage out and ooze through my nose."

 

N’Sync was playing.

 

Pete was feeling the pain.

 

"Just gotta think, dude. They’re naked in there. Together. Nothing about that is wrong."

 

Whitney wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.  Not by a long shot.  But he did know better than to blurt out that he'd seen it.  Up close and personal.  "I know what's wrong with it.  We're not seeing it."

 

Oh, damn. Pete sighed sadly, leaning back against the chair and shifting under the weight of the denim. Purple jeans, green jeans, blue jeans of every fucking shade imaginable. "Tell me again why all the pants they’ve tried on so far are wrong?"

 

"They don't fit.  They make her ass look big.  They're not the right style.  They cut up in the crotch.  The zipper sticks."

 

"You forgot the part where they make a weird wrinkle, or they’re too high, or they bed and ass falls out."

 

"The cuffs are too tight.  The legs are too tight.  It doesn't give enough thigh support?"  Whitney raised his eyebrows at that one.  "What the fuck ever!  I buy jeans, it takes five minutes."

 

"Me too, man, me too. Man, not even that long." Pete snarled, and finally dumped all the jeans on the floor, despite the glare from the sales girl, and leaned into the dressing room, the annoying ding. ding. ding. of the alarm sounding as he bellowed, "Are you two DONE?!"

 

"Don’t rush us!" Chloe squealed at the door, bumping into her new best friend as she yanked the jeans up over her legs and buttoned them. "You rush us and you die, Ross!"

 

"Whit and I are going to go get a coke!"

 

"Leave and you die."

 

"PETE!!!!  YOU CAN'T LEAVE!" came the panicked shriek from his girlfriend.  "SIT YOUR ASS DOWN RIGHT NOW!!!"  She wiggled into the pair of pink--what else?--jeans she'd pulled off the rack and hopped up to get them pulled all the way up.

 

Pete just pointed, and plopped back down with a heavy, heavy sigh--jumping a moment later as the stool decided to go cave digging, snarling at it, shifting, and sprawling all his limbs every which way.

 

Chloe let out a slew of giggles, buttoning her own jeans and turning every which way, peering in the mirror. "Dammit! These do the wrinkle TOO!"

 

"But they look good on you except for that!"  Shayla wiggled again, getting her ass settled in the snug backside.  "These are kinda tight on the ass but... ooh, check it out!"  She squealed softly.  "They fit everywhere else just right!!"

 

"Chloe... Chloe, please?" Whitney pled.

 

"Oh! Oh, they so do!" Chloe squealed, turning her friend around… making sure… YES! Heeee! Chloe did a little dance, cause hello, victory! "Get them off, there’s like, eight other colors! You can get the same in different colors!  I love you, but shut up Jocko!" Chloe called sweetly, turning back to her friend and beaming.

 

Shayla yelped in victory and squeezed Chloe's waist.  "Gotta show Pete!!!"  She burst out of the dressing room in a blur of pink and white, and stood in front of Pete, hands on her hips, bouncing on her toes in excitement.

 

It looks like the last 56 pairs you’ve tried on. "I..."

 

She spun around, giggling.  "I finally found the right pair!!"

 

Whitney... blinked.  "They're... pink."

 

"Shut up, Whitney!  What do you know?"  She giggled again.

 

Oh, thank God." But Pete grinned, nodded a little hysterically, ran his fingers over her ass as she spun. "Like them. Buy them. Feed us."

 

"Nope, can't!  Gotta try the other eight pairs on and see if they all fit!  Then I gotta find shirts to go with them all, and new shoes too!!"  She wiggled her ass against Pete’s fingers.

 

He stared. Not at her mesmerizing ass, but into space, in horror. "Baby, please let me and Whitney leave. We'll be right back. I swear. We'll be back, and you don’t need us, pleeeease. We're starving. No food since 8. Noon. Men. Hungry."

 

"Come on, Shay! You gotta see these! I think I found the ones I like!!!"

 

Shayla bopped down in her boyfriend's lap and kissed him, sitting on top of all the jeans.  "Of course we need you guys, how else are we going to know how great we look?"  Her head shot up as she squealed again, and then leapt off Pete's lap and ran back into the dressing room with Chloe, slamming it shut.  "You did!!!  Oh my God, those look SO good on you!!!!"

 

Whitney looked wide-eyed at Pete.  "I... I... tornado."

 

"We could claim Japanese tourists dragged us off." Pete muttered, flopping back into the chair and looking at the ceiling as some God forsaken rock began to PLAY all over again, and the little teenie boppers pretended to know the words and dance to it. "Shoot me, Whitney."

 

He shook his head vehemently.  "No way, man.  If I shot you, first of all, I'd have to put up with Shayla's whining and crying, and second, you couldn't shoot me if you were already dead."

 

"We could do like they used to do in those old wes--hey, wanna see something cool, speaking of that?" Pete reared his hips and dug in his pocket… until he came out with a sliver of silver, and flipped it over to Whitney. "A quarter, flattened by the rail road tracks. Isn’t that neat?"

 

Whitney caught the quarter and examined it.  "Hey, this is neat!"  He ran his fingers over it.  "It's still got the ridges and everything, but it's flat as my ass!"  He flipped it up and caught it again.  "What the hell you doin' out by the railroad anyway?"

 

"Hey, check it out. You know how you can spin quarters? You spin that shit and it'll keep going. Its got a tail wind, its fuckin' awesome." He grinned crookedly. "Man, I was out looking for Andy. He and his buddies put their secret fort out there."

 

Whitney choked and flipped that flat quarter back to Pete.  "I could use a secret fort right about now.  Or even better... pull a Clark Kent and just disappear without saying a word to save the fuckin' day."

 

"Clarks got a knack for it." He grinned, crookedly. "What he did with the snow storm, that was fuckin A." Pete nodded it, shifting under the jeans as the girls did their random squealing in the bathroom. "You ready for class man?"

 

"You kiddin'?  Hell no.  I still got to that damned trig assignment for Dickhead Keller, and I haven't even opened the fuckin' book."

 

"Me neither." Pete heaved a sigh. "Been too busy gettin' laid, man." His eyes were wicked, but his expression innocent, humming as he shifted.

 

At that, Whitney leaned forward.  "Yeah, I heard about that."  He flicked his eyes towards the dressing room, and then lowered his voice.  "She's a pain in the ass, man... but you gotta tell me... good?"  He was dying to know the answer to that, ever since he'd seen her and Chloe together.

 

His face softened, and the harsh pain over Dick gave way to swamping emotion for this little Irish blond of a girl. "She’s innocent. Really… really sweet. Giving, doesn’t know much." He grinned crookedly. "She's phenomenal, man."

 

"So how the hell did she see anythin' in you?" Whitney teased, settling back in his chair.  "You better hide her away from Chloe, man, she'll strip that innocence right off."

 

"Man, I was seein' Sam. He dumped me for someone else, and Shay was there. She's been there since that first night." And he said it so easily, his throat working as he tried to think what... what Whitney would think of him, sleeping with another guy. And panicked, because he shouldn’t have done it. Whit was one of his first real new friends, the true kind that didn’t go anywhere, and Pete didn’t want to freak him out.

 

Whitney frowned.  "Sam?  You mean, tall geek from gym?  What the fuck he dump you for?"  The frown turned into a stormy expression.  "You want me to have a little man to man with him?  Kick his ass?" 

 

Dude. It was okay? Pete blinked at him a moment, then in typical guy fashion kept on talking. "Yeah, man. We saw each other for a coupla months… Lied to me 'bout shit. His name, how old he is. Shit like that."

 

"And you mean Shayla hasn't kicked his ass already?"  Whitney decided then and there he was going to have a little chat with the former Pinky.  "Man... dude, that sucks."

 

"Naw. Things are alright now. Ain’t talkin' to him anymore. Shay tried, but I stopped her. Don’t want any more mess, you know?" Pete swallowed a little, and shifted. "Thought you mighta freak outre some shit."

 

"Why'd you stop her, man?  Pete... c'mon.  Is it cause she's a girl?  That girl nearly yanked Chloe bald, remember?"  He crossed his arms as he leaned forward.  "Guess you never knew about me'n Sean, huh?"

 

He shook his head, eyebrows raising up a little as he shifted in the jeans, not realizing the girls had grown strangely quiet. "Naw, man. Shayla'd kick my ass, flat. Just don’t want her to fight my battles, ya know? Don’t want her to have to deal with my shit. And you and Sean? Sean, the dude that was all mutated out?"

 

"If you're not gonna fight 'em, then let her, ya know?"  He leaned back.  "Yeah.  Him.  Me and him... we had this thing going on the side before he got all mutated out.  Never went all the way, but... went far enough, you know?"

 

"I know that’s right. Did people ever give you any shit for it?" He asked it quietly. "I mean, people like Clark man, he's open 'bout it. He's cool with it, he likes it. Me...I get shy."

 

"Nah, nobody much knew about it.  Told Chloe about it and she was cool with it, and that's all I really care about."  He smiled softly.  "Was afraid I was gonna lose her for a while there, that whole Whitney did guys thing, but she's great... she understood and everything."

 

"Man, that’s fucking A." Pete smiled at him. "She's a great girl, yo. She’s been one of my best friends since... man, the fifth grade. She kicks ass. You hurt her, and I'll have to hurt you, you know." But Pete was still grinning, and he shook his head.

 

"Christ, not you too!  I've already gotten the third degree from Clark, and I'm ready to break him over my fuckin' knee, and I kinda like him!"

 

"Man, what the hell did he do?" But he nodded. "Oh, I'll rip your friggin head off."

 

"You don't even wanna know."  He sat back.  "There's these red meteor rocks?  They make him really... fucked in the head.  Lex said he's allergic to them.  Anyway, called Chloe a few names, but we got that straightened out and he apologized and everything.  Course, then there's the whole "She was mine first," deal, but I can handle that."

 

"Man, never thought I'd see the day where ya'll were at each others throats." And Pete grinned, snickering and shifting in his seat. "Man, you should know better then to say anything to Chloe."

 

"She'll give you the fucking third degree man. Knock your ass out from under y--Hi, Chloe."

 

"Yeah, I should.  Too bad I don't."

 

Said blond smiled brightly, wearing her street clothes and carrying four pairs of jeans for herself, her friend next to her. She brightened, considerably, smiling at the two guys as she pulled her satchel on over her shoulder, and moved around them, very proudly moving to the cash registers.

 

"After six hundred and thirty nine, we're done." Pete rolled his eyes, but grinned at Shayla, raising a brow. "Find yours?"

 

Whitney got up and held out his hands, knowing his role as pack mule.

 

Shayla held up her burden of eight pairs of jeans.  "Oh yeah, baby.  You're going to love this one pair, I found 'em in a pile that didn't work for Chloe, and oh man... they're just... they're black leather," she whispered.  Then she brightened.  "We gotta go for shirts next, but the ones that I want they only got at Rainbow so that's where we're goin' next."

 

"You. You are going next." He nodded this, because it was all very true. "Me and Whit are gonna go get some chow, then hit the sports store, and then we'll meet you girls. Aight?"

 

Shayla shook her head no.  "Pete!  You gotta come.  You gotta help me pick out shirts to match this stuff.  Please?"  She gave him huge, innocent doe eyes, batting them for good measure.

 

And damned if he hadn’t known her long enough that that didn’t work anymore, even if he caved just a little. "No. Food. Hunger. Belly rumbling. Boy want food. Boy get food. Girl shop."

 

"No, Shay, its totally okay." Chloe turned back from the cash register, where the girl was ringing up her stuff. "If they want to go shop and be in the dog house from now until Valentines, that’s their business."

 

Shayla sniffled slightly as she started unloading her stuff onto the counter next to Chloe, so the cashier could ring her up next.  "Yeah, I guess," she said quietly.  "I just... kinda wanted to show off for him, y'know?"  She cleared her throat, and dug in her purse for her credit card, and clutched it tightly.

 

Pete dropped his mouth. Stared at Whitney. Stared at the girls. Whitney. Girls. Whitney. "How is it that they can make you feel like the King of the world on minute, and total shits the next?"

 

Whitney shrugged.  "I don't even know, man.  Notice I'm not openin' my mouth."

 

"You are so, so wrong for that."

 

"Yeah, cause I still end up in the doghouse anyway, but at least I don't gotta apologize for anythin' I said."  He smirked.

 

Pete thought a moment. "You know? That’s not such a bad way to live."

 

It took ten minutes to pay for everything, and when they finally had their bundles, Chloe looped her arm through Shayla's, smiled smugly at the two guys, and handed over the bags. "Follow." And off she went, dragging Shayla along with her and grinning. "Shay, we have them trained sweetie."

 

And over her shoulder. "Whitney, baby? Take a look in the second bag, there."

 

Shayla nodded and squeezed Chloe's arm.  "I gotta find a new trick; Pete's immune to the puppy eyes now."  She pouted for a few minutes.  "There's this shirt down there... you're going to LOVE it!  It's yellow and green, and it's got the low neck, and it's fitted down to the waist, and then at the waist it flares out, so it's kind of like a super-short daisy duke kind of dress, and it's just... yeah.  There's a pink one there that I want."

 

"Should I be afraid to look?" Whitney asked, eyeing the bags suspiciously.

 

"Just look." And Chloe turned back to her friend, giggling and shaking her head. "You're going to be the cutest girl at school, I swear. You’re going to be totally appalled by the lack of fashion by the chicks of Smallville High."

 

Shayla bounced.  "Hear that, Pete?  Cutest girl in school!"  So she squealed the last word.  And her image as this tough experienced street chick had gone right out the window as soon as she'd met Pete Ross.  Who cared?  She'd never had friends like this before.  "Well, you and I will be the fashion plates."

 

"Damn right. Hello, we both have fashion coming out of our ears." She grinned brightly and linked elbows with her friend. "Just wait'll those bitches get a load of us, and our hunky boyfriends. Speaking of hunks, should we break it that we're buying them clothes too?"

 

Whitney raised the bag and peeked into it.

 

Choked, nearly swallowed his tongue, and slapped the bag back shut again.

 

Holy Christ.  Down, Fordman!

 

He couldn't resist another peek at the strap on dildo and harness nestled in the bag.  Couldn't resist a second choked gasp.

 

Shayla looked back at Pete, and then her eyes widened at Whitney.  "Nah.  I don't think they're ready for it yet."  Then she looked back at Chloe.  "Is... um... is he okay?"

 

Pete blinked... raising a brow up high onto his forehead. "Whit, man, what the hell? You see the Ghost of Lingerie's Past or some shit?"

 

The smile that graced Chloe's face was a hundred percent wicked. "He will be."

 

Whitney flushed.  Bright red.  "Um... yeah.  Something like that."  He snapped the bag shut again, and if he could have gotten his hands around Chloe's smirking little neck...

 

He'd have fucked her then and there.

 

She turned, walking backwards so she could see her sweet boyfriend’s face, eyes wide and innocent as she fluttered her lashes and rose a hand to her chest.

 

"Awe, man, she bought you some sex toy shit, didn’t you? Chloe! I don’t wanna KNOW ya'll have sex!" Pete bellowed... and the entire mall stopped, turned and looked at them, and if he weren’t the hue of chocolate everyone would have seen him blush.

 

Shayla laughed, and let go of Chloe to loop an arm through Pete's.  "It's just payback, baby... they already know we have sex, cause I asked her for blow-job tips."

 

"You what?" His mouth. Dropped.

 

Oh, Chloe was on a roll. "Its good to know you don’t have a bologna penis, Pete. I wouldn’t have liked thinking you were wrapped in a piece of deli meat.

 

Pete stared for a long, soulful moment, and finally looked at Whitney. "We're dating two very insane women."

 

Whitney was still staring at the bag.  "You just now figured that out?"

 

Shayla was dissolving in giggles as she leaned against Pete.  "My baby's... not an... Oscar Meyer Wiener!!!"

 

Chloe burst into peels of her own laughter, squealing as she covered her mouth and dropped back so she could wrap her arm around Whitney and peek over his shoulder into the bag. "I bought it in black leather, just for you." She whispered between soft giggles, though adoration was in her eyes as she walked with him.

 

 Whitney barely yanked his eyes away from the bag.  "You... are an amazing woman, Chloe Sullivan, and if we weren't in public... I'd have to kiss you."  And then he did it anyway, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close, lips pressing tightly against hers as his full hands rested against her back.

 

She kissed right back, wrapping her arms around him as they walked, and pressed her cheek into his own face. "I love you, Whitney."

 

"Mmm... and I love you, Chloe."  He snuggled her in close, leaning his head down to rest on top of hers.

 

Shayla watched out of the corner of her eye as she held on to Pete's arm, and a little tiny part of her--okay, so maybe it wasn't quite so tiny--was jealous at the comfort level that Chloe and Whitney had.  She and Pete still hadn't gotten there yet, and she really did understand why, but it still... made her want it more.

 

The mall was exceptionally full. Saturday morning, moms with kids, teenagers, old people... everyone was out shopping. Especially it being the weekend after the weekend after the New Year’s holiday. Sales were in full swing, people were spending tons of money, and Pete watched it all quietly. He'd learned to observe from a very early stage, and he could peg and pinpoint people from a mile away. What they were feeling, what they were thinking.

 

A gift? Maybe. Because he knew exactly what Shayla was thinking, and he just… couldn’t. Not yet. It... not yet.

 

Shayla shook it off after a moment, and grinned, squeezing Pete's arm tightly in hers, and smiled happily up at him.  "Thank you," she said quietly.  "I know... not exactly how you envisioned spending your weekend but... it means a lot to me that you came along."  She squeezed again, and didn't think about her jealousy again.  She stamped it down and shoved it away, because nothing was going to spoil her day out with her boyfriend.

 

He paused a moment before speaking... staring off into space a moment... then blinked. Twice. The song playing over the mall radio was..."Oh, God."

 

Chloe blinked over at them a moment, before bursting into peals of laughter, nearly tripping over an old woman as she cracked up.

 

Pete, very suddenly, grabbed Shayla by the arm, spun her into his arms, and rose a brow, mouthing along with the words. "Don’t be shocked...by the tone, of my voiiice. Yeah. Check out the new weapon, weapon of choice. Don’t be shocked, but the tone of my vo-i-ce. Check out my new weapon, weapon of choice. Yeah." Fat Boy Slim. Pete had an insanely weak spot to Fat Boy Slim, and as this was his favorite. Song. Ever, he had to sing. Plus, you know, Christopher Walken right up there with Steve Buscemi. Pete had nearly had an embolism screaming when he saw the music video for the first time. And now he snagged Shayla's waist, her hand, and danced with her as they walked. "Don’t be sh--o--occkkeeddd by my tone of voice!"

 

She couldn't help it.  She giggled.  Too completely oblivious to the rest of the mall as Pete danced with her, she grinned hugely and moved with him, humming the music to the words.  While she didn't seem to have Pete's... rabid appreciation for the song, she did like it, and it was just way too much fun to dance with her boyfriend in public and who cares who sees?

 

Chloe laughed and cheered him on, dancing as her friend moved like fluid water. He was just...he was good, and she'd told him, time and time again, to do something with his talent. But he never, ever, did.

 

Pete twirled and dipped his girlfriend, lifting her up again effortlessly and dancing five steps forward, one back, and a little jazzy step where he spun her out then in and dipped again, before lifting her up like she weighed as much as a piece of paper, turning her in a circle before setting her down again without giving her a second to breathe. He was laughing, and people were stopping to watch them and whistle and clap.

 

Whitney was watching with pure astonishment on his face.  He'd seen Pete do a few fancy steps out on the football field, moving and running and stepping out when he should have been flattened into turf pizza, but nothing had given him a clue on God's green earth that Pete had this kind of talent.

 

Shayla's laughter rang out with Pete's and she was just... amazed.  She'd had no idea that Pete could move like this, and as soon as he finished dancing with her, she was going to ask him about it.

 

He turned again, taking her with him three steps, turning, another three steps in the opposite direction, all the while leading her into fancy footwork that came easy as breathing, and he didn’t think anything of it as he twirled her, twice, catching her around the waist so they were both facing the same way, and rolling his shoulders and waist once… twice... moving like a wave before snagging her and going for another quick dance steps before the song ended and he dipped himself back before doing it to her. The song ended and he rose, grinning at his girlfriend in delight and pleasure for music and for the dancing that came to him so easily, and blushed as the other mall patrons whistled and clapped. He took Shayla's hand, lifting her bag up for her from the ground, handing it back, and rejoined Whitney and Chloe.

 

Chloe was still cracking up, and she gave his cheek a kiss, rolling her eyes. "You know, Shayla, he did that to me last year. The song had just come out and he just grabbed me in the middle of homeroom and danced me up and down the hall. Clark was so jealous." She giggled.

 

Shayla poked Pete in the shoulder.  "And why didn't you mention you could dance like a demon, buster?"  She glared at him.  "You have got to do something with that talent, and Pete... just so you know... it's going to become my personal crusade to make sure that you get recognized for just how damned good you are."

 

He coughed shyly, dragging his fingers into his pockets under his coat and shrugging a shoulder absently, grinning at her and offering his arm. "Its not much. My mom made me and my brothers take ballroom dancing when we were little...man, you've got to see my brothers, 'specially CJ."

 

"Oh, God. CJ." Chloe got a little starry look in her eye, coughing lightly and lifting and shrugging a shoulder, sighing in happiness. "Sang like an angel. Danced like a demon. Though, I’ve got to say, Pete's better then him."

 

"Not much?  Jesus Christ, Pete, I've seen professional dance troupes in Vancouver that would KILL to have someone like you fronting for them!"  She punched him in the shoulder hard.  "CJ?  Oh!!!  You mean the one who sounds like honey over fire?"  She couldn't prevent the sigh.  "Yeah, I talked to him on the phone the other night... got a great voice."

 

"Doesn’t he? He sings like Baby Face. Real sweet, high, sexy as sin." Chloe grinned at her boyfriend to make sure he wouldn’t get jealous, squeezing his fingers tightly. "You know that song, "I Believe I Can Fly"? He did a cover for it for his graduation… he had the entire senior class in tears. I mean, he can really, really, really sing."

 

Pete was used to the fawning over his brothers, so he just smirked, grinned, and blushed proudly. "Yeah, he sings really good. I mean, its from our dad. I can dance, CJ sings, DW can play just about any instrument you set in his hands. And Andy… man, Andy has got this gift for paint. Child can just about replicate everything. Its crazy shit, man. We're gifted, and yet, we all suffered through school. CJ barely passed... DW made straight up D's."

 

"I haven't heard him sing--and if I remember events correctly, Pete yanked the phone out of CJ's hand before I even had a chance to say goodbye."  She glared again.  "Don't you dare leave yourself out of that list, Peter Ross.  And don't make me break out your middle name in front of Chloe now."

 

"And I can dance." He grinned. "Little, anyway." He looped an arm around Shayla's shoulders as they continued to walk through the mall. It was the most natural thing for him in the world… he danced all the time. He knew he could do it, but he never really considered doing it. Interesting. "'sides, Chloe knows."

 

"Know what?"

 

"My middle name."

 

"GRAH!" She cried it, loudly. "SHAYLA! He TOLD you?! He's never told me! Ever! In almost EIGHT years of friendship!"

 

"He did," she nodded, and grinned as she leaned her head on his shoulder.  "You're damn right you can dance.  And you're going to teach me how to dance too, even though I suffer from the congenital Senatori disease--lack of rhythm."

 

"I'll teach you." Pete said softly, still smiling as he squeezed her fingers as he they kept walking, and now he slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her in a little closer to him. She might not say it, but she'd danced... she'd danced really well. Really, really well. She had rhythm, he was just going to teach her how to use it. Which in itself? A fun idea. "Hey girls, why don’t you go in real quick and get what you want? I'll treat us to lunch. What do you guys feel like?"

 

Shayla cringed as she looked over at Chloe.  "You... um... have to... come in with us."

 

He blinked. And threw his hands in the air. "Alright. I give up. Damn."

 

"We'rebuyingyounewclothestoo!" she said quickly.

 

Oh, he caught that, and he gaped, gasping at Whitney, then shaking his head fiercely. "Oh no you're not!"

 

"Oh, yes we are." Chloe said easily, smiling up at her boyfriend, lashes fluttering. "Whit? Pleeeease?"

 

Whitney looked at Pete.  Then at Chloe.  Then at the bag.  Then back at Chloe again.  Then at Pete again, and finally, back to Chloe.  "I'm whipped, Pete, sorry."

 

"Good boy." She murmured, but her eyes danced as she laced her fingers through his. "Come on, Pete, it's not so bad."

 

"I swore to you I’d never shop again. Are we forgetting the last time I let you dress me?!" Pete snarled at her, glaring fiercely.

 

Chloe was all fluttering innocence. "You looked good."

 

"They were purple pants."

 

"You still looked good! And look, here we are." She stopped in front of the store, motioned, and grinned.

 

Shayla latched onto his arm.  "I promise, Pete.  No purple."

 

Whitney glared at Pete.  "Don't you talk to her like that!"

 

Shayla bristled right back at the quarterback.  "And don't you talk to my Pete like that, unless you want your balls shoved up your nose!"

 

"Whitney, you don’t understand!" Pete cried, digging his heels in and shaking his head, even as Chloe latched on cheerfully and dragged him in. "Man, you don’t UNDERSTAND!"

 

Shayla got behind Pete and pushed, sliding her hands down to cop a quick feel of taut, firm ass under his jeans.  "C'mon, don't be a baby.  I'm picking out your clothes this time."

 

And he was right. He usually was, wasn’t he?

 

Exactly one hour later, he was standing in front of Chloe and Shayla, socked feet rubbing into the thick carpet of the boutique. He passed a glance at Whitney, tipped his head, and stared at him. "What did I tell you? Huh? Next time, you listen to Pete. He understands Chloe, and her devious, horrid ways. See how she influences my girlfriend? Look. Look, at how they plot together in evil, nefarious plots set to do evil."

 

Whitney was kicked back in his chair, quietly waiting his turn as he protected all the numerous bags.  "You say these things like they're news.  I told you back in the jeans place to keep Chloe away from her, but you thought I was joking."  He laced his fingers behind his head.

 

Shayla dragged Chloe over to the back racks.  "Okay, see?  I want blue.  Blue shirts and red shirts, and I think a pair of black jeans, cause... okay, those colors look fuckin' hot on him.  Or, oh, leather pants are always good.  He says he's got one pair but you can't have too much leather, right?"

 

He was currently decked out in dark green jeans and some type of tan shirt thing that itched.

 

And he snarled at his friend. "You know, Whitney, I’m going to kick your ass.

 

"He has leather?" Chloe exploded into giggles, and after the boutique worker had measured Pete, they knew exactly what sizes to look for. Including crotch, which just amused her outrageously. She grinned again, taking out four pairs of jeans, and six shirts she really liked, including a snug navy blue, long sleeved sweater. "They have to go to school the first day looking good. How do you think this one would look?"

 

Whitney just grinned.  "You're just cranky because you had to go first.  Trust me... the longer you live with her?  The less odd this will seem."

 

Shayla nodded.  "Yep, he's got a pair of leather pants.  I'm thinking maybe leather jeans to go with--oooh, yeah.  That's nice and that's the perfect color for him.  That tan is just... blech.  It looks like Shane puked it up.  Gimmie the blue sweater."  She grabbed the sweater from Chloe and took it over to Pete.  "Here, let me have the tan shirt, baby, and try this on."

 

He turned death eyes from Whitney to a glare at his girlfriend. "I’m standing in the middle of the store, Shayla." He grabbed the shirt, and coincidently her, dragging her back with him and staring at the leather pants with an eyebrow raise. "Cold day in hell."

 

"Let me see them!" Chloe called, still grabbing stuff and piling it into her lovers arms. She grinned cheerfully, petting it, and smiled. "Go try it on, sweetie pie."

 

"But you'll look good in them!"  She snagged the leather pants from Chloe as Pete dragged her back.  She balked at one of the smaller rooms, and instead, dragged him into one of the bigger rooms at the back, then closed the door behind them.  "There we go, now we have enough room to move around in."  Just barely.  And she locked the door.

 

Whitney looked up at Chloe, and smiled as she piled stuff in his arms.  "Pete's got a hellion on his hands, don't he?"

 

He was still glaring at her as he began to wriggle out of the clothes they'd put him in, offering them up and shaking his head. "Don’t consider that. I’m not wearing barf color to school." He did the same to the green jeans... cool style, if they weren’t so friggin eye painful, and set them in her arms too, before heaving a heavy sigh. "Start giving me stuff."

 

Chloe grinned at her boyfriend, dropping a kiss to his nose, and simply nodded. "He needs her."

 

"Eww.  No.  Burn that," she said, tossing the tan crappy barf shirt over the door.  "Here, I want you to try on the blue sweater."  She dropped the rest of the clothes on the bench behind her, and sorted through them until she found a pair of black jeans.  "And here, this too."  The green jeans went into the Burn That pile too.

 

Pete pulled the blue sweater over his head, down his bare chest… hello. "Its too tight." He shifted even though it wasn’t at all... it just felt strange, wrapped tight to his body. Weird. The jeans went on over the white briefs, buttoning with three buttons, snug too and Pete... Pete stopped, and stared into the mirror. "This.... isn’t me?"

 

"Oh... holy..."  Shayla blinked.  She'd know it would look good but not... "CHLOE DAWN SULLIVAN GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW!"

 

Chloe was sure she jumped a mile, and she climbed over her boyfriend, rushing into the dressing room... crouching, spotting socked feet and Shayla's tennis shoes, and she walked right into the room... and gasped.

 

Oh, God.

 

Snug jeans, snug sweater, miserable expression, body like steel. "See? I knew all you needed was some clothes." She gaped, eyes wide... shaking her head as she stepped in and shook her head again. "Wow. I mean.... Pete. Wow. Sweetie, you're just..." She grinned at Shayla. "Lucky girl." Then to Pete. "Stay put. I’m getting more."

 

"Yeah, I’m leaving the dressing room looking like Ricky Martin." He snarled, rolling his eyes after she left and glaring.

 

Shayla locked the door after Chloe left, and pushed Pete against the wall, hands on either side of his head as she kissed him.  Hard and hungry, and then she pulled away to show him his reflection in the mirror.  "Ricky Martin my ass," she grumbled.  "LOOK at yourself, Pete!"

 

Couldn’t look. Too busy getting kissed. He'd been avoiding touching her, trying to keep a level head about his current situation, but it was hard. Very, very hard, when her mouth met his and blood like fire raced through him, making him grip her waist even as he looked.

 

He was shocked, by the drugged pleasure in his own expression, and he rolled his eyes at her, muttering, "Ricky Martin. I’m the Gay Pride Parade, all by myself."

 

Shay growled at that.  "you're going to make me kick your fucking ass, Pete."  She stood behind him, arms around his waist, and standing on his tiptoes to put her chin on his shoulder.  "I want you to look in the mirror and tell me what you see.  Don't argue, just do it."

 

He shifted in her arms, tipping his head as he looked at her. Her arms, her face, her soft hair. Her. "You. I see you. Your arms, and your fingers locked around my belly, and the back of your thumb pressing into my navel. Your feet on either side of mine...your chin on my shoulder."

 

"And what about you?"

 

"I’m happy." He swallowed. "I haven’t felt happy for a long time."

 

"Good."  She kissed his ear.  "You wanna know what I see?"

 

"Clark'd say a maypole. Don’t know how he gets off calling people maypoles, though, faggy bastard." But his voice was all love.

 

She plowed on ahead.  "I see a damned good-lookin' guy that right now, I'm having a very hard time keepin' my hands off of, though part of that is the fact I wanna strangle him for not seeing how hot he is," she said softly.  "I see somebody who don't think enough of themselves, who's got a lot of smarts, a lot of talent, and a lot of heart."

 

He listened quietly, watching her in the mirror as Chloe's squealing, Whitney’s grousing, and the hubbub of a busy mall and store went unnoticed. He looked at her, tipping his head so it touched hers, and gently touched her fingers on his belly. "You’re so amazing, Shay." He whispered. "Shay, you’re amazing."

 

"Not hardly," she whispered back, leaving her head resting against his as she loosened her fingers just enough to grasp his.  "You just think I'm great cause you don't realize how great YOU are.  You bring the good out in me."

 

"You make me good." Pete whispered back, and because he couldn’t talk about this, not anymore, not yet, he turned in her arms, arched a brow, and a little grin came over his lips. "You really like the faggy outfit?"

 

"It's not faggy," she said, swallowing down the little lump in her throat and smiling.  "But yeah... it's hot on you, Pete.  There's a dark red one here, too, just like it.  Wanna try it on too?"

 

"Yeah. Why the hell not. Blue jeans, too? I like blue." Except he wouldn’t let her go, and his breath was a little fast and he was just a little too close.

 

Shayla didn't pull away.  "Black jeans to go with the red," she said quietly, arms still around his waist. 

 

"Shayla?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"How okay are you about having sex with me in here?"

 

A very wide smile slipped over her face.  "Why do you think I picked a bigger room?"

 

"You’re an evil child." Said, of course, while his mouth gently nibbled at her cheek bones, her chin, lapping softly as his fingers spread on her lower back, covering the skinny little waist...and he grinned as he let go suddenly and began to strip, in excitement. He grinned at her, wicked in what they were about to do, and arousal that was quick and fierce. He dropped to his knees, quickly unzipping her jeans, though not undoing them, just ducking his tongue in to moisten her, get her slick before Chloe came back. "This is not right." He whispered, grin dashing over his face as he lapped at her shaven little mound, tasting sweat and sweetness and her, and it pleased him enormously.

 

Shayla shivered as his lips moved over her face.  "I'm not evil, I just think ahead," she said breathlessly, his skin pulling her hands to it as soon as it was bared.  She ran her hands over his shoulders, over his back before he dropped to his knees, and she spread her legs as much as she could, and made a quiet, quiet choking noise as his tongue snaked out to lick at her.  "P--Pete... want... want to try... riding you again," she whispered as her hands stroked gently over his head, one slipping to the back of it to press him slightly closer.

 

The image of her would be forever burned in his memory. Taking pleasure from him, back arched, hair flying as she squealed, and he let go of her and crawled to a part of the dressing room that was hidden from peaking eyes underneath by wall. He looked over his shoulder, grinning wickedly as he pulled himself from his briefs, grabbing her calves as he lay back. "Hurry, Shay, gotta be a quickie, don’t think, just make love to yourself with me, use me to get off."

 

Another glance at his shoulder, listening to Chloe talking to Whitney and this was so bad but so fun, and he jacked himself off, hardening the rest of the way and slicking himself.

 

Shayla stripped her jeans off, snapped the string of her panties and balled them up, throwing them on top of her jeans as she bit her lip.  Crouching down on her knees, she straddled his hips and quickly lowered herself onto his cock, biting harder to keep from moaning in distinct pleasure as she took him inside, deep and easy and maybe it had only been three days but it felt like forever and she rested her hands on his chest as she started to move.  Hips moving first in a small circle and then she started to ride in earnest, sliding up and down Pete's hard shaft.

 

Pete almost lost his mind. She sank onto him like pure heat, and it was so gorgeous and wonderful that he had to bite his knuckles to keep the cry in, arching his back and pressing in the rest of the way as she began to move, to get herself off.

 

And he had to open his eyes. He had to watch. He grabbed each of her hands, tightly in his own, keeping her grounded and helping her move with each upward thrust. She encased him, gripping him in a tight, wet fist, and he barely whimpered as he rose and fell with her. Other customers roaming the store, the dressing room, and he stayed as silent as he could as they moved.

 

You gave your heart to her, Pete.

 

Shayla's eyes found Pete's on her, and she couldn't look away from him watching her.  The look in his eyes, half hungry and half heartache trapped her and she couldn't pull herself away from him as she rode, fingers gripping his tightly, kissing them and nipping them as she kept her noises amazingly quiet, muscles rippling and contracting around her lover.

 

Her nipples peaked, aching, no time to touch them but she had to.  Intertwined knuckles rubbed roughly over them and she whimpered softly.  Her hand moved to her clit, stroking it softly, rubbing it against Pete's shaft and she whimpered again, moving faster and clenching him tighter as she moved herself closer to orgasm.

 

His eyes widened as he stared at her… rubbing herself, she... she'd never done that, and he looked at her in shock and pure pleasure, nodding as goosebumps broke out over his skin at the sight. His free fingers rubbing her peaked nipples... the other hand sliding down to her clit, and he rubbed the distended little nub softly before shaking his head.

 

He snagged her around the hips, arranged her tightly around him, and rolled over. He hated having her on his floor, but she'd rolled onto his discarded clothes, and he could deal with come stains. He lifted her legs up around his hips, looking to the door to make sure they were alone as his palm moved under her hips and held her at an angle, comfortable but raised up.

 

And after making sure her fingers slipped back down to her clit, he began to thrust. The base of his cock hit her fingers, and her clit, every single time.

 

She arched up to kiss him then, sucking hard on his lips and his tongue.  Her teeth bit down lightly on his lip, then she moved away from his mouth entirely and bit hard on his shoulder as she came.  Her teeth sunk into the hard muscles under his beautiful smooth skin as her sheath contracted around him, hips thrusting up against his cock.

 

The bites turned to soft kisses as the need to scream passed, and she took her fingers away from her clit and pinched his nipple softly.

 

The bite did it. He gasped in pained pleasure, looking down and watching as her teeth sank into him... the sweat sliding on both their bodies as she contracted around him and he held inside her, held, held, until he could thrust again. Just a little longer, a little longer, and he closed his eyes, moving over her, his mouth buried in her neck as his hips rose and fell over her.

 

One of Shayla's legs wrapped around his hip, bringing Pete down closer to her as she pulled up and whispered to him.  "I want you to come, Pete, please... it feels so hot inside me when you do and I want that."

 

He'd tell her sometime that when she talked to dirty, it made him so, so hot inside. He would. Right now, coming. Coming, coming, needing it, and his thrusts became uneven and hard, jerkily thrusting as he pressed in, faster... then a single swift, powerful one inside as he came. He shook, gasping softly and until he felt himself spill inside her he didn’t realize they hadn’t... oh, God.

 

He looked up at her, face swamped in pleasure as he thrust the rest of his orgasm out of her, trembling and laying his cheek on her breast.

 

Feeling his weight on her was the most beautiful feeling in the world, and as Pete's cheek rested against her, Shayla realized, in an instant, that it didn't matter if they were ever like Whitney and Chloe.  Here is where it mattered, here is where Pete loved her and she loved him, and anything else could simply go to hell.

 

She murmured softly to him, running her fingers over the back of his head as he looked up at her.  The look of pleasure on his face was entrancing, and she leaned down to kiss him again, small, soft kisses over his wide mouth.

 

He kissed back, softly, eyes rolling closed as he heaved a soft sigh… and opened his eyes again. "You make me feel loved. Shayla... I think--...I know. I know, I love y--"

 

Knock knock knock. "Came with clothes! Come on, people, we don’t have all day here, and ew, what is that smell? I’m so getting one of the girls to look at it. Musky, man. Anyway," Chloe tossed another three pairs of jeans over the top of the door, along with two t-shirts and the red sweater.

 

He'd tensed as soon as Chloe came and went, but as he heard her walk away, he looked up, and grinned. "I'll take it all. Lets go eat."

 

Shayla nearly jumped up and shouted.  Instead, she just smiled at her lover, holding him tightly when Chloe came by, and then giggling softly after she left.  "I love you," she said softly, kissing his nose.  "Let's get dressed, though, before she comes back with somebody."

 

"She’s an embarrassment wherever we go." He gave a little thrust up into her, though, because he was less then sated. He wanted more, and he wanted a lot, and he was crazy to hold her and cuddle.

 

She sighed softly, snuggling into him, and moaned quietly as he thrust again.  "Pete... I want... yeah.  Again."  She murmured it into his skin, and didn't even try to move.  "I've missed you."

 

"Thought I could stay away." He whispered, and because it pleased him, he caressed where they were joined. Her stretched lips, his wet cock, and he touched and caressed where he was in her... his free palm gently rubbing her belly. "Being inside you… its... its so..."

 

She shook her head.  "I don't want you to stay away," she said softly.  "I want you.  Not just like this... I want you for everything.  Dinnertime, sleeping, popcorn and sodas and MTV."  She arched into the rubbing hand against her belly.  "I shouldn't tell you this cause I know it'll probably scare you but I see me with you down the road, and I smile."

 

It terrified him beyond any earthly imagine. Because he could see it to. He swallowed, hard, slowly rubbing her, gently, before he sat up, taking her with him, and nuzzled her chest with his lips. "Did you really like how I danced?"

 

Shayla nodded.  "I loved how you danced.  I loved that you made Left-Feet Senatori look good."  She held him as he shifted her, and kissed the top of his head.  "I'm in awe of you."

 

"You fit in my arms." And because he was a guy, that was pretty much all he could explain over it, gently pulling her up, slowly, off his spent cock. Oh. He felt so lose and good. Relaxed, and he gave her a really idiotic male smile.

 

Shayla returned the smile, a bit wickedly, and before he could stop her she scooted down his legs and started to lick his cock.  Not sucking it yet, but licking it clean of both their comes.  "You'll have to get cleaned up," she explained, eyes twinkling up at hi m.

 

Oh, mother fucker. He gasped, throwing his head back as he felt that pert, tiny little tongue begin to lick and he could never explain why it felt so good. Ever. This time he did let a soft moan escape him, trembling a he very suddenly lost all muscle function and he had to lay back down. "Sh.."

 

"Yeah?" she asked, before she sucked the head into her mouth.

 

He bit into his knuckle again, closing his eyes tightly as he began to fill again, rapidly, blood whooshing down between his thighs again as he struggled not to move, his thigh muscles cording and tensing in pleasure. "Shayla.."

 

She pulled her mouth away from the head, stroking him in her fist as she looked up.  "Pete... don't you like it?"

 

He whimpered, horrified by the sound, and nodded desperately, arching his hips with each stroke of her hand. Mouth, please, mouth, please, mouth. He hadn’t expected it, and he was shocked and pleased and they were in a dressing room, and oh, God.

 

She smiled, stroked his belly with her free hand and slid her mouth back over the head of his cock, sucking gently at it and trying to remember what Chloe had told her.

 

She licked the underside of the head with the tip of her tongue, worried it very lightly with her teeth, tugging it a little as she sucked it, her fist jacking the rest of his length.

 

He felt himself swell and tighten, hard as rock as her teeth did this thing and he felt his throat rumble in a cry that fell on deaf ears, his eyes tightening shut as he arched and fell with each one of her little tricks, moaning almost silently, desperately in pleasure, wanting to touch her but terrified of giving her the wrong idea and this stopping.

 

She loved it.

 

She was never going to stop.

 

Then she giggled to herself and sucked harder, taking more into her mouth but stopping well before her throat.  She licked around the bit of shaft she sucked in, little fingertips rubbing over his balls, and then she tugged the head again with her teeth as her tongue traced the long vein.  Instinct had her suck hard as she traced, and it resulted in her tongue guiding his cock deeper into her mouth.

 

Hmm.  She liked that feeling, too, of a mouth full of hard Pete, and she took in all that she could before she felt herself starting to panic.  Quick slide out, a lick, a deep breath in, and then slide back in again.

 

He was gonna come. He was gonna come now. Now. Now. He keened it, tried to warn her, as his hips jerked. Too soon after the last time but he couldn’t help it because she… she was so innocent and sweet and Christ she gave good head and he was going to tell her so as soon as he was concentrating on the not screaming part.  Which he almost didn’t do. Barely. He gasped, arching, thrusting his hips upwards to her, offering her to pull it out of him as he started to shake, struggling to keep quiet as he thrashed and tightened his hold around her

 

She kept her mouth on him, sucking hard at the head, rubbing his belly again as she let him know that she knew what was coming and wanted it. 

 

That was it.

 

It shot out of him before he could stop it, before he could warn her. Contracted and spilled his seed, hard, shooting as his eyes rolled back into his head and his fists tightened on his own thighs, digging into skin as he whimpered, eyes rolled shut as his legs tightened around her waist.

 

Shayla shuddered herself as his come spilled into her mouth.  Swallowing fast, some of it leaked out of the corners of her mouth as she tried to get it all, and it seemed as through he'd never stop. 

 

The taste was hotly addictive; salty and creamy and thick and ten thousand other things she couldn't identify and she licked.  She licked over his shaft as soon as she felt the jerking in her mouth stop, cleaning up what she'd spilled, licking the corners of her mouth as she cleaned him up.

 

He grunted, as quietly as possible, chest tight as a drum as he jerked. He was watching her, through the slits of eyesight, watching as she sucked it all down and God, her lips around him were sending shakes of pure, hot pleasure rolling through his belly. A hoarse whimper and he dropped down, rolling his head back and forth as he kept the noises in, his balls empty now and they sighed at him with relieved thank you. God, and he was willing to oblige it, willing to watch her suck at him until the day he died.

 

She'd just given him a blow job.

 

He whimpered, loudly now, and reached out to her, begging her to come into his arms.

 

Shayla crawled up his body, curling up on his chest and dropping her head on his shoulder.

 

Didn't give a good holy fuck that they were in a semi-public dressing room.  Didn't care a bit.

 

Just snuggled up into the warm, welcoming arms of her lover and rubbed the top of her head against his chin.  "Did I do okay?  I've been wanting to do that for you for a long time now."

 

He just groaned, softly into her hair, pulling her in closer against him and rolling. Holy mother of all that was good, he hadn't felt so sated, so pleasured, in a long time. Not since Sam.

 

And strangely enough, here, now, thinking about him... it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. Bitter sweet sadness, but in this girls arms, he felt... he couldn’t quite describe it. Was terrified of describing it. All he knew was that she'd brought him and Chloe back together, and for that...for that simple gift, he'd care for her all his life.

 

And here, with her slender little body against his, his heart swelled and ached.

 

Shayla took the groan as a positive, and just cuddled up against him more as he rolled them over, and twined her arms around his chest. 

 

Didn't care about anything while she was cuddled up with Pete like this.  Didn't have to care about anything because Pete was just... all that mattered to her.  Yeah, there were other things that she dealt with--friends, school, family, not stepping on Clark's fucking dog--but Pete... yeah. 

 

She sighed, and rested her chin on his shoulder.  "Wanna go back to the castle after we finish shopping?  You can tell your parents you're helping me get ready for school and I'll lock the door."

 

"Insatiable." He murmured, wrapping a leg around her thighs. He pulled her in, in to the heat of his body, and grunted softly even as the hubbub roared around them. "W'gotta get up." A whisper, though he didn’t move.

 

And if he'd known Chloe had just peeked under the door and seen his long, dark form from the back with Shayla's slender pale arms and legs around him, he would have gotten up.

 

As it was, Chloe just stared, blinked...unable to believe they'd just… in... a... dressing room? Oh. God. She couldn’t help it, she covered her mouth to muffle the giggle and stepped back over to the first dressing room, where her lover was. "Hurry up, cupcake."

 

"Why don't you go play with Shayla and Pete," he grumbled as he wormed his way into the clothes she'd flung over the top of the door. 

 

Shayla wrapped tighter around Pete.  "Don't wanna get up," she said quietly.  "Wanna stay right here with you."  She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, snuggling and sighing happily as Pete's leg tucked her in closer.  "You make me insatiable."

 

"Can’t, the kind of play they’re having doesn’t involve clothes." She muttered through the door.

 

"I love it." Pete murmured, and he rubbed his thigh up and down the outside of her hip. "You make my belly get hot. My head swims, an… and I have a hard time seeing anything but you. How pretty you are. How good you smell."

 

Whitney's head appeared over the door as he stood on the small bench.  "You're shittin' me, right?  Pete... in a public place?????????"  No way he was believing it.

 

Shayla grinned at that.  "Oh, you're good for my ego, Pete Ross."  She kissed his throat.  "You make me feel like a lot more than just somebody's elbow ornament.  You... you make me feel important, and cared for, and safe and a million other things."  She looked down at him again.  "Don't kill me, but you kinda remind me of Graham cause you always want to protect me and make sure I'm happy, and that's what he wants.  And he's gonna kill me if I don't shut up about the wonderfulness of Pete Ross."  She snickered at that.  "They're all sick of hearing about you, babe."

 

"DW said the next time he comes home he better meet you." Pete grinned wistfully, softly, and now... when he looked at her, and tipped his head, the ball in his throat tightened. "I want to protect you. And make sure you're happy. That’s all I want, all I ever want... because I’m actually a big caveman, but... you know." He skimmed his mouth over her lips and sat up, reaching over to grab the clothes she'd shucked.

 

The thong he kept for himself. The jeans he handed back. "Get dressed, okay? I..." His blush was soft. "I want to get you home. I want..."

 

"I want you too."  She sat up over him, laying her jeans over her lap and looking at him.  "I want to meet your brothers and your parents... I want you to meet mine, too.  Graham's gone, he's leaving this afternoon.  Morgan's gone too but he'll be back; I can't wait for you to meet him.  Lindy's gone too, and she would have just loved you.  Meggie you met, and you know Shane.  Really... the last big person you gotta meet is Mama, and Mama will just adore you."  She leaned back over his legs, shimmying into the jeans and then arching her back as she pulled them up and then tucked her shirt into the waistband before buttoning and zipping. 

 

"Does she know?" He asked softly, as he rose as well, surging to his feet in the relaxed, muscled movement that was sheer masculinity, and his fingers trailed over a cupped breast under her shirt. He explored a moment... reaching down to kiss her nipple into visibility, kissing around it softly before peppering kisses up her throat, over her lips, and away. He ducked down and got his briefs back on, then his jeans, buttoning them up as he went.

 

"Yeah, she knows.  Graham told her before he went to Metropolis Friday.  She and Morgan are going to get me set up with the doctors and stuff here."  She smiled as she slipped her feet into pink and white sneakers.  "She just needs to meet you and love you."

 

Pete looked at her a moment, watching her move...then shook his head and touched her face. "Does she know I’m black?"

 

Shayla's brow furrowed.  "Yeah, I guess, why?"  She finished buttoning her shirt as she tried to remember her conversations with her mother.  "I don't know if Graham told her or not, honestly."

 

Christ. Pete shook his head slightly, pulling his t-shirt on, and rubbed his fingers through his short cropped hair, brushing it forward before looking again at her. "Mention it, alright?"

 

"Okay."  She looked at him.  "She won't care, Pete.  I know my Ma.  She married an Italian and is having sex with a Hispanic dude."

 

People surprise you, baby. "I know." But then he smiled, and offered his arm gentlemanly, as he smoothed his wrinkled shirt and jacket, and grabbed the clothes from over the door. "I’m taking the Pride Parade clothes just for you. Know this."

 

She blushed.  "Then I'll have to show you the sexy underwear that Chloe made me buy."

 

Oh. Oh, God. He looked at her, and drool pooled in his mouth.

 

He was one of those men that Victoria’s Secret was like a heaven, and he stared at her a moment as blood began to rush again. "I’m not going to make it home if you keep talking, Shay."

 

She smiled gently.  "There's some black ones, and some red ones, and they're all lacy and stuff.  Never had anything like them before, but... Chloe helped me pick them out and said they were really pretty and would make a guy lose his it."

 

His neck was suddenly damp...his nipples peaked, and he was so glad he'd pushed her wet, scented thong into his pocket. He dipped his hand in as he stared at her, and squeezed her fingers in his own. "I have… this thing. About lingerie."

 

"Then I know what we're going to be doing behind that closed door," she whispered softly in his ear.  "I'm going to be modeling.  And you, mister... you have to promise not to think I look like a dork."

 

"Shayla… don’t you realize how gorgeous you look?" He asked it just as softly, opening the door with the clothes in his arm, though his attention was on nothing but her. "Don’t you realize how beautiful you are?" And he leaned down, nipping the corner of her lip where she'd licked his come away. Salt was still on her skin, plus her own heady taste, and he lapped at her softly.

 

She almost answered but he kissed her before she could.  She turned her mouth fully into the kiss, her lips soft and wet and tangy with his taste and she licked his mouth gently, hand on the back of his head as she murmured softly.  "Barely pretty," she whispered.  "So lucky to have you."

 

"You’re--"

 

"Come on, crazy love birds!" Chloe called from right outside the dressing room. The place was getting full, and it was time to pay, leave, and go eat. It was almost 2, and she was starving! Not to mention her poor, sweaty boyfriend.

 

Chloe glanced up at him, her eyes dancing as she looped her fingers through his own, and straightened her shirt self consciously. A moment to make sure his zipper was re-zipped, and she beamed. "Lets pay and go."

 

"Got to talk to her about her timing," Shayla muttered, squeezing Pete's hand tightly with her own as she grabbed the clothes and tossed them onto the pile she'd selected for herself too.  "Okay, okay, we're coming!" she yelled.

 

Whitney groused.  "Lucky stiffs!"

 

Pete grinned, broadly, at his friends choice of words, and took the pile from his girlfriend as he slipped the door open and led her out. "For a jock, Whitney is so great." He grinned it, smirking broadly as they walked out of the dressing room and back into the crowd. "She roped ya in too, didn’t she?"

 

"Yeah, but hey... I can't complain.  She's promised me fun when we get home, so hey... I can live with this for a little while longer AS LONG AS WE GET TO EAT!" he said, raising his voice and shouting the last few words.

 

"Bite me, Whitney!" Shayla sang out, latching onto Chloe's arm.  "Keep whining and you won't get fed at all!"

 

"Oh, aren’t you a great slave driver." Chloe giggled it, loudly, grabbing her friend and flouncing towards the cash registers. Her voice dropped several levels, and she whispered, "You didn’t tell me he had such a nice ass!"

 

"Man. When they whisper, ain’t good." Pete groused, shifting the clothes into one arm and clapping Whitney on the back. "I’m so hungry I’m starting to feel swoonish. You HEAR that ladies?? I’m gonna pass out!"

 

Shayla blushed ten shades of red.  It spread over her neck, her throat, and down her arms.  "Chloe!!!!" she hissed.  "How did you see Pete's ass????????"

 

"They don't care," Whitney sulked.

 

Shayla turned a pink face back to Pete.  "Behave yourself, Mister, or no lace!"

 

"I peeked under the door, to see what he'd dropped on the floor and didn’t like." She grinned back, cheerfully, eyebrows wriggling. "I told you he had a great body. What did I say, mmm?"

 

"Naw, man, they don’t. Look at this mess. Lookit how they ignore the manly mens. You know, we don’t have to put up with this--Shayla, that’s not fair!" Pete turned desperate eyes at Whitney. "Are we being manipulated for sex?"

 

The pink flush deepened to bright red.  "Chloe you can never ever never tell Pete you did that.  Swear it, right now, or I'll... I'll... I'll... do something!"

 

Whitney patted Pete's shoulder.  "Of course we are."

 

"Why?" She blinked. "Sweetie, apparently you're not aware of how comfortable he is in his own skin."

 

"I feel so violated. So...so....used." Pete said, then gasped dramatically. "Oh, God, does this make us Man-Whores?"

 

"Okay.  So he's comfortable in his own skin.  How would you like it if I told Whitney I'd peeked at him while he was having sex with you!!!!!!!"  Shayla was having a hard time keeping her voice down as she hissed.

 

"Nah, man.  It makes us men.  Cause see?  Here's the thing.  They know we could put a stop to this any time we wanted to.  We're just not doing it, so they can feel all powerful and stuff.  We do this... to make them happy.  Only they don't know that, and so, they're extra happy for making the big bad men their slaves."

 

"You know, Fordman, in a very strange place in my brain, that actually made sense." Pete frowned, thinking a moment...then brightened considerably as he glanced up and rose a brow. "You saw us having sex, C'lo?"

 

Chloe bit off mid response to her friend and glanced back at Pete, nodding cheerfully.

 

"Got a nice ass, don’t I?"

 

"Prime A." Chloe offered a thumbs up. "Thicker than Whitney’s, though my baby’s is the best." She fluttered her lashes at her lover, the teasing glint in her eye as she winked at him, and motioned to Shay. "See?"

 

Whitney really did have a good response to that, and then he snapped his jaw shut.  "Chloe... saw...?"

 

Shayla flushed brighter red.  "Pete!!" she hissed.  Then she glared at Chloe.  "And you!!!  You I am not speaking to!"  She looked back at Pete.  "You're... okay with this?"

 

"You know, the constant comparisons between us aren’t fun, Whit."

 

Whitney grinned.  "Sure they are.  You're just cranky cause you always lose."

 

Pete snickered, loudly, at his friend cause damn, that was funny. Then a glance at Chloe and Shay, shrugging his shoulders absently. "I saw her ass all day once in the eighth grade, man. She'd insulted me the week before, cause I wore two different shoes to school. I mean, a sandal shoe, and a dress shoe kinda bad. So, she wore a short skirt, got it caught in her hose, and walked around all day showing everyone her Winnie the Pooh panties." Pete said cheerfully.

 

"PETE!" Chloe squealed, blushing ten shades of red and matching her friend as she buried her face in her hands.

 

Oh, Pete cackled. He couldn’t help it.

 

"That was so wrong, on so many levels."

 

"You've got a nice ass, too." Pete grinned cheerfully.

 

"MEANY!"

 

"Next time, don’t talk to my girlfriend about my bare assed states."

 

Shayla glared at Pete.  "You don't talk to my best friend that way!"  She glared at Chloe.  "You don't talk about my boyfriend that way!"  She glared at Whitney.  "You do not have a nicer ass or a bigger dick than Pete, so there!!"

 

Pete couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing, pulling her back into his arms and kissing away the angry glare, kissing each eyelid as he set his clothes on the table in front of the flushing check out girl. "Calm, caaalm Shay."

 

"Lies, lies, lies!" Chloe stuck her tongue out at her friend, though it was teasing, and she grinned at her boyfriend as she looped her arm around his waist. "Whitney’s packed, and you’re just jealous."

 

"You know, Whit," Conversationally. "I bet the girls would be offended if we began to compare boob sizes."

 

Shayla let herself be mollified by Pete's kisses, and she snuggled into his arms. 

 

Whitney was outraged.  "Shayla Senatori!  You damn well know better than that!" he mockly growled, and wrapped his arms around Chloe.

 

Shayla snickered at the boob size comment.  "Come on, guys... let's look here.  We've got watermelons and peaches here.  There's no comparison."

 

"That wasn’t nice." Chloe pouted softly. "Just because I’m lacking doesn’t mean you’ve got to bring attention to it." A sniffle.

 

Pete grinned, chuckling wickedly. "And since the only way we'll ever see that," A glance up. "Sorry Whit, ain’t happenin'." And back down. "Is by comparing, we're just going to have to sit around and pretend we're both kings of the universe."

 

"You should see Lex's." ....

 

Oops.

 

"I mean, through his pants, right?" Chloe continued, smiling as she set her own clothes and Whitney’s on the counter top to be ringed up. "Cause damn. And guys, realizing this isn’t your type of conversation, so sorry but we'll continue anyway."

 

Shayla elbowed Chloe gently.  "Honey, you've got the melons here.  I've got the peaches.  You're at least a double handful, and I'm... woefully lacking."

 

Whitney almost choked at Chloe's slip, and went into a wheezing coughing fit.  "You... shouldn't... check out... Lex Luthor!  Clark... be pissed!" 

 

Okay, so, maybe that was a bald-faced lie, and maybe there was a lightning bolt with his name on it.

 

"Hey!  That wouldn't be a bad idea," Shayla said musingly.  "But... no.  I'm happy with my baby."

 

They’re cute. Definitely, definitely--"

 

"Do... I’m sorry to interrupt, but do you mean the Lex Luthor?" The sales girl suddenly asked, looking at the four of them questioningly.

 

"I...yes." Chloe swallowed. Oops again?

 

"Clark is the mystery guy, then?" And she grinned, just this side of sharky. "There's been rumors. A lot of people said it was one of the Royal Family from Britain. I’m glad that’s cleared up."

 

Insert boot. Swallow. Chloe did, hard, and tipped her head. "Hi, thank you for listening to our conversation. Now only are you rude, but we're never shopping here again." She grabbed the bags, and credit cards, from her. "Thanks." And she turned, grabbing Shayla's arm, and flouncing out.

 

Holy shit, and Pete followed right after them, snagging Whitney’s elbow and all but bolting out of the store.

 

Shayla jerked away and stalked back into the store.  "Hi.  Remember me?  I just bought a shitload of stuff here?"  She jerked the name tag off the woman's shirt.  "Thanks.  I'll just make sure Lex gets this.  I mean, it can't be too hard to find out who you are and have you fired, now can it?"  She smiled sweetly at the woman behind the register before stalking back out.

 

Pete grabbed Shayla's arm as the woman bellowed behind them, snagging and pulling her out of the store, walking quickly. Holy fuck. Holy. Fuck.

 

"I stuck my foot in my mouth. Oh, I got Lex in trouble. Whitney, I just..." Chloe's eyes were filled to the brim, and she pressed her trembling lips together, stroking Whitney’s shirt front as they walked and she gazed up at him.

 

"Chloe, Chloe, calm down," Shayla said, displaying her prize.  "All I gotta do is call the house and talk to Alfie.  Alfie'll put me through to Lex's cell phone, I give him the number, and she's toast before we leave the mall!"

 

"Shay, baby, right now we're going to dodge the mall police." Pete muttered under his breath, hurrying her along as they walked. "Got a black man with you, you've got to remember. I’m never up to any good, and they'll stop us if we don’t get out of here." His sober expression turned wicked. "Plus, its really James Bond. Come on, lets get to the car." He led them out a side door quickly, humming innocently as they walked.

 

Chloe snuffled and rubbed her cheek into her boyfriends cheek as they walked, holding her bags to her chest tightly.

 

Shayla glared at him for the black man crack, but let herself be hustled out the door with Whitney and Chloe.

 

Whitney held Chloe tightly against him.  "Come on, Chloe.  You think Lex is going to flip out because some bitch of a salesgirl?  No way, he's got more class than that."

 

"Okay.  We're out of the mall and in the parking lot, Pete.  You can stop dragging me now," Shayla snapped, and then apologized.  "I'm sorry, baby.  I didn't mean that."  She was digging in her purse for her cell phone and yelped victoriously when she found it.  "Hah.  Take this... Olivia," she said, consulting the name tag.  Push of a speed dial, and the mansion phone was ringing.

 

Alfred sighed quietly as he put the whistling tea kettle back on the stove, and answered the ringing phone for Hilde.  "Luthor Mansion, how may I help you?"

 

"Alfie?  It's Shayla.  Look, Alfie, I need a favor.  I need you to forward this call to Lex's cell phone, please?" 

 

"Of course, Miss."  Alfred pressed the hold button, and then activated the call forwarding, and chose Lex's cell phone number from the list.

 

"Come on, Lex, answer your freakin' phone," Shayla muttered, tapping her foot on the asphalt and the name tag on the phone casing.

 

Lex's phone was ringing insistently in the barn, but as he was currently deep, deep asleep on Clark's chest, still in the hammock, he didn't bother to answer it.

 

"I-I know, but I let it slip and maybe he didn’t want to come out?" Chloe sniffled harder, and the tears brimmed over and tumbled down her cheeks. "Maybe I ruined everything! He'll hate me, and won't want to speak to me anymore and I ruined everything!"

 

Pete watched his girlfriend look more and more frustrated, finally stopping next to Whitney’s truck and watching her as she waited in the phone.

 

 

A little shift sent the hammock swinging, and lulled the occupants deeper into sleep. Tear streaks were across both their faces, arms tightly around one another, and though all the problems that sat between them were heavy, they still had their arms wrapped around one another as they slept.

 

"You didn't ruin anything, baby.  And if Lex gets pissy about it, I'll kick his ass for you."  He rubbed her face with his thumbs, wiping away the slow tears.  "Come on, now, don't cry.  I think Lex came out a long time ago."

 

Shayla's foot tapping got faster and more frustrated as the voicemail cut in.  "Goddammit Lex Luthor!  Answer your fucking phone next time!" she shouted at the machine.  "All right, listen!  There's this bitch named Olivia who works at Rainbow Boutique and she overheard me and Pete and Chloe and Whitney talking about you and Clark, and she's going to try and start some shit about it, I just know it.  I've got her name tag if you need it... ANSWER YOUR GODDAMNED PHONE, JERK!"  She punched it off with a very angry snarl.

 

"Y… yeah." Chloe sniffled, rubbing her cheeks with her palms. And jumped, at Shayla's shriek, bumping against the truck with wide eyes.

 

"Anger management, sweetie." Pete murmured, gently taking the phone from her before she poked her finger through the plastic and metal, and slid it back into her purse before opening the truck door and ushering her into the small backseat. "C'mon. In. Lets go."

 

Chloe crawled in before Shayla, plopping behind the drivers seat as her legs had plenty of room in the small back space. It was so great being a woman, and she helped her friend too.

 

"Bite me."  But she said it sweetly and teasingly, kissing Pete on the cheek before getting into the truck.  "Jackass needs to answer his damned phone, or else why have the fucking thing?"  She put her arm around Chloe's shoulder and hugged.

 

While Pete was getting everyone into the car, he was loading the bags into the back of the car.  He made sure to separate the bags with the toolbox, packing Chloe's inside the toolbox and Shayla's outside of it.

 

Chloe sniffled again, softly, rubbing her cheek into Shayla's arm and sighing as she rested her weight against it. "I don’t think. I’m a reporter, and I just don’t think. I’m so stupid. How much more stupid could I get?"

 

"Not stupid." Pete said it firmly as he slid into the front seat, sliding it forward a little bit to give the girls a little more room. "It was natural. They’re our friends, C'lo, its natural to talk about them and their relationship. I mean, I hate baldy moneybags, but Clarks my pal. Its alright, okay? Don’t beat yourself up." Then he raised his voice and bellowed, "Come ON Whitney! Black man, police men! You’re the slowest fucking Bond I’ve ever SEEN!"

 

"You wanna drive, Mr. Mario Andretti?  No?  Then shut the fuck up and let me."  Whitney finished loading the bags into the back of the truck, and then slapped the tailgate shut before sliding in behind the wheel.  Adjusting his rearview mirror, both girls' faces came into view.  "Just for the record?  I am never going shopping with you two ever again."

 

"I would, if you'd get on with it. Goddamn it you're slow. Christ, how the hell do you fuck, man? Chloe must friggin fall asleep." Pete glared and shifted so he could pull his seat belt on, craning his neck to look at the girls. "Ditto."

 

"You say it, but you will." Chloe sniffed, hiding her face into Shayla’s neck as she hugged her. "You think it'll be okay? You think they’re going to get mad? Things are just getting okay between us, I don’t want them to get mad at me."

 

"I don't think they'll get mad.  And if they do, then I'll help Whitney kick AJ's scrawny ass, okay?"  She hugged Chloe back.

 

"I happen to fuck just fine, thank you," he grunted, backing out of the parking space and then putting the truck in gear, flooring the gas pedal as they rocketed through the parking lot.

 

Chloe sniffled, kissed her friends cheek, and lay her head on her shoulder again. "Promise to let me watch?"

 

And Pete would have said something, if something hard, hot, and heavy hadn’t kicked in his belly as he watched Chloe kiss his girlfriend. Jealousy. Arousal. Wow. Okay! He breathed, caught his breath and smirked at Whitney. "Slow's hell."

 

"You don't know that, I've never fucked you."

 

"Promise," Shayla nodded, rubbing her cheek against Chloe's temple.  "You can sell the tickets.  I know Pete'd pay to see AJ get his ass kicked."

 

"Okay, good." Chloe rubbed her cheek and pulled her legs up, sighing softly as they pulled out back into traffic. "I’m good at selling tickets. Id have a booth… it'd be the prettiest booth."

 

"Man, and thank God." Pete grinned, wriggling his brows wickedly before turning in his seat to look at the hugging girls. "You're damned right I'd pay. Up into the hundreds."

 

"It'd be the only booth.  Me, I'd be down at the ring, waiting for Whitney to drag AJ's scrawny butt in.  I'd hold him down and Whitney'd kick, then Whit'd hold him down and I'd kick.  And we might switch off one more time."

 

Whitney sniggered.  "Your loss, dude."

 

"Yeah?" Chloe had brightened, considerably, rubbing her face dry and giggling. "Whitney'd be good at it. He's my strong man, you know."

 

It wasn’t like Pete hadn’t had the mandatory crush on Whitney once upon a time. He hadn’t been able to face it at the time, but now, at this point in his life, he was okay being bi. It felt good knowing he could say it. Not gay, mind you. Bi. Shayla was the bi exception, and he adored her for being so good as to be the exception. So he just grinned at Whitney and settled back into his seat, watching the city turn into rural farm land.

 

"Yeah, I know!  Built like a fucking brick wall, and I've still got bruises to prove it!  Ran into his fucking arm at the coffeehouse and he's like a linebacker and doesn't even budge!"

 

Whitney snickered.  "Not like you're exactly a huge weight there, Shay.  You're what... one-fifteen soakin' wet?"

 

Shayla smacked him in the back of the head.  "You do not ask a lady her weight!"

 

"Oww!" Whitney said, rubbing the back of his head.  "No beating up on the driver!"

 

Pete was quiet, looking out the window as they talked and laughed behind him. It was in these instances that he missed having his friend, his best friend, his... his once lover, and Pete wanted so very badly to talk to him. The hurt was still alive and aching in his chest, but he wished for his friend, just his friend who loved him and cared because Pete was worth caring for.

 

And in that moment, he panicked. He felt shaky, edgy, panicking because maybe Dick and Bruce were going to leave and Pete wasn’t going to get to tell him what he needed to and he swallowed, looking over his shoulder. "Shay, can I use your cell?"

 

"Sure thing, sweetie."  She dug it back out and handed it to him, putting her other hand on his shoulder.  "You okay?"

 

"I will be." He put the phone on and dialed quickly, pressing the phone to his ear as his wide palm absently rubbed the knot in his chest. The number to Sam’s cell phone was easy to remember and he prayed Dick hadn’t thrown it away, that he hadn’t had it turned off.

 

Dick was surprised--shocked--to hear his cell phone ringing.  He looked at the desk, where Bruce was working at his laptop on the thermal suit schematics, and then back to the phone on the dresser.

 

Only one other person in the universe had that number, and he couldn't imagine Pete calling him.  Convinced that it was a wrong number, Dick picked it up.  "Hello?"

 

"I miss you. I miss you so much. I want us to be friends, and I understand if you don’t want to be anymore, but not having you around is killing me. I know you have Bruce now, I know you do, but I need to talk to you. You're my best friend." He croaked, looking out the window as he tried to keep his conversation private from the other three, knowing it wouldn’t be at all but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t have stopped this if he tried. He'd have had Whit stop on the side of the road for a payphone if that’s what it had meant. He needed his friend, to come and shop with him and Whit and that, that is what had been missing all day. His friend. His best friend.

 

Dick sat down on the side of the bed, in nearly total shock.  "P--Pete?"  He tried to process everything he'd just heard, knowing that he needed a good response.  "I want us to be friends, too--I didn't want us to stop, remember?"  He said it softly, gently, not accusatory.  "What's wrong?  What do you need to talk to me about?"

 

Oh.  Shayla's smile didn't falter as she tried not to listen to Pete's conversation, but she couldn't help hearing.  She was too tuned into him not to hear, and it was like a little cutting knife straight down her throat and into her chest to hear Pete calling Dick his best friend.  She didn't let anyone see it, instead keeping a smile on her face and inane chatter going to try and distract as much attention as possible from the phone call.

 

Bruce glanced up, eyebrow cocking at his lover. He stood, pulling the tiny rims off his nose and setting them aside before sitting next to his lover, tipping his head to watch him. And offered his hand. "Dick?" He asked softly.

 

"You, I needed to talk to you. We all went out today, and we had so much fun and I missed you, because you lied, but you're my friend, and you care about me just because I am your friend. I want you to see Shayla and how beautiful she is, and I want to go to the movies and hang out because no one ever knew me like you do and I miss that. I miss you, and I know you're leaving soon but I can't..." He was crying, and he knew it, and it mortified him as he closed his throat, stopping words so he wouldn’t sob.

 

Chloe raised both brows at the desperation in her friends voice, and though she laughed at what she said, she passed her eyes curiously to the front. She didn’t really understand, but she knew Pete needed this time and Whitney was, bless his darling heart, a block head. So she reached forward, kissed his ear, and murmured several lewd suggestions.

 

Dick leaned against Bruce as he talked on the phone.  "Pete... Pete, baby, calm down."  His voice changed softly, the deeper, quieter tone he'd used as Sam and not the usual cocky tone.  "Sssh... don't cry.  Where are you, Pete?  I'll come pick you up and we can talk, okay?  I've got the Camaro, I can be wherever in less than fifteen minutes."

 

As soon as Chloe leaned forward, Shayla did the hardest thing she'd ever done.  She didn't cry.  She put her hand on Pete's shoulder, squeezing firmly, offering whatever support she could as her heart broke.

 

"I’m not crying." Pete’s chin was trembling hard, and he pressed his lips together, shaking his head and calming his voice. He felt Shayla's fingers and he put his over hers, vised tightly as iron as he squeezed and drew support from her.

 

His fingers were ice cold.

 

"I’m in Whit's truck. We're on the way back from Metropolis… we'll be there in an hour or so, and we can meet somewhere? Anywhere, I need to see you. I want to see you now, but Fordman can’t fucking drive and please, don’t go back to Gotham yet, don’t leave yet." His voice hitched again, and he closed his eyes tightly. Christ, Jesus.

 

Bruce ever so gently held his lover... rubbing his palm up and down Dick's back as he spoke into the phone. He was ever the offered shoulder, holding him softly to him as his lover spoke, and he couldn’t help the smile.

 

"Okay.  Tell you what. I know that blond chick is still staying here... Dominic's sister, what's her name... Christ.  Anyway, come on in with her, and I'll meet you downstairs in Lex's billiard room, okay?  Two lefts, and then third door off the main hallway.  Don't worry.  We're not going back to Gotham for a couple more weeks yet."

 

"Your hands are freezing, sweetie," Shayla whispered softly, sliding her other hand over the seat to wrap around his, trying to warm it up. 

 

"Shayla?" Pete asked softly into the phone, closing his eyes tightly. "Shayla's here with me. I want to talk to you. We'll be there soon." Was his reply, soft and quiet, and he swallowed. "S...see you."

 

Shayla's fingers tightened on his shoulder when he said her name, and then she quietly sat back in the seat, leaving her hand on his shoulder as he said he wanted to talk to Dick.  She wasn't going to be hurt; she'd known, Pete had even said back in the beginning, that he just needed help to get over Dick.  And apparently he was going back, which was, she supposed, the next best thing. 

 

Whatever Pete wanted, she'd see to it he got.

 

"Okay.  I'll be waiting downstairs for you when you get here.  I'll probably be in the middle of a game, but we'll rack and start a new round of 8-ball when you get in, okay?  I'll have Alfred set up some drinks--you want beer or Pepsi?"

 

"Beer." He whispered, and slid the phone to his chest, hanging up and setting the cell against his slamming his heart. His throat was tight, his pulse wild, and he thought he was going to lose his goddamned mind if he didn’t--

 

He unbuckled his seat belt and crawled right over the middle of the seats, shoving Chloe to the left and sitting in the middle. He wrapped his arms around Shayla, tightly, tight enough to hurt but he couldn’t stop, and he held her as hard as he could as he buried his face in her neck. "H-he, he said he wants to talk to me, and its okay, and I thought maybe he wouldn’t want to but, but he does."

 

Shayla wrapped her arms around Pete, squeaking slightly as he squeezed her but not caring as she held onto him.  Her heart was down in her socks somewhere, and she pressed soft kisses to his ear.  "Sssh... of course he does," she said softly.  "I always told you he'd be an idiot not to."  Her small fingers stroked his neck and held him close to her.  "Always said he'd realize he made a mistake.  Told you so from the beginning."

 

"He, he wants to see me and its okay, he wasn’t angry, Shayla, he wasn’t..."

 

He realized, very suddenly, that Whitney, a male, was sitting about a foot away, and he coughed, hard, straightening and taking on a careless masculine gesture that was all macho egotism, shrugging lightly despite his need to curl up into his girlfriends arms and hold her close. Her strength would get him through this, and then... then he could give her parts of himself he was holding tightly shut. And it...things would finally be okay.

 

Shayla didn't let go as he straightened up, and instead, she crawled into his lap and nestled up tightly against him.  "Chloe... you want to get in the front seat?  Pete and I are gonna sit back here," she said calmly, proud that her voice didn't crack.  She laid her head on his shoulder, slipping her arms around his waist and tucking him in against her chest as she situated herself comfortably on his lap.

 

 

Chloe wasn’t stupid. Sure, her actions attested to that very notion sometimes, but she wasn’t stupid. And she knew what was going on. She was trying to convey to her friend not to be an idiot but it wasn’t getting through. A heaved sigh was her only reply, crawling up into the front seat, exchanging a look with her boyfriend, and buckling her seat belt.

 

Pete's arms were desperately tight around his girl and he held her against him as tightly as he could, though still carelessly sprawled, hugging her to his side and stroking fingers through her hair.

 

"There we go," she said softly, in a near whisper.  "Better now, now we're sort of alone."  She stayed wrapped tightly around him.  "I'm glad he wants to see you," she continued.  "Told you he would."  She rubbed his shoulder gently.  "You're gonna be happy with him, you'll see."

 

"He's my best friend." Pete croaked softly into her hair, letting himself get buried in all the curls as he rocked softly, his throat tight in his chest. He felt joy, terror, anger, happiness--a thousand emotions all warring for a place in the forefront of his mind, and he fought the tears as he held his girl. "He wants to see me."

 

"Course he does," she said again.  "Can I kick his ass now for takin' so long to come to his senses?" she teased gently.  She wouldn't quite cry yet; not until she was home.

 

"Wasn’t him...it was me." Pete whispered, shaking his head. "I pushed him 'way, I did, I didn’t let him close and now... now its okay. Now he wants to talk to me, and I want to talk to him too. It doesn’t hurt so much anymore."

 

"Now you can let him close," Shayla said, smiling at him.  "But I still want to kick his ass for hurting you in the first place, and can't nothin' he says or does make up for that."  She rubbed her face against his shoulder, sniffing his scent carefully.  "I'm glad it doesn't hurt; you shouldn't hurt, Pete.  Ever."

 

"We can go to basketball games, and eat pizza again, Shay, and it'll be like it was. Without sex, but that part wasn’t all about us and I get to have my friend back." And now he whimpered it, because he was so happy and relieved and the pain, the pain was subsiding and it wasn’t so bad because he could face Dick and it could... it would be okay.

 

"No sex?" she asked softly.  "You can't... you can't have a relationship without sex, Pete.  That... that kind of defeats the purpose of it.  A friendship, yes.  But not the kind of relationship you've got with Dick."

 

He stopped. Froze. On a dime. "What?"

 

Shayla blinked.  "You... if you're going to get back with Dick, then... you've got to be able to sleep with him."  And oh, GOD that hurt.

 

He watched her...letting her go and the raw, open wound her words caused was a shock. He didn’t think this pretty girl could hurt him, but my God, she just did. "You think he and I are going to be lovers again?"

 

"You... you're not?  I thought... I thought that's what you just... just called him about, getting back together?"  Shayla's brow furrowed, and her voice broke just a little towards the end.

 

"Shayla." He set his large palms on each petite shoulder, angled her his way, and looked into her face. "I’m with you now. Even if he and I... I’m with you, not because of sex or anything else. I’m with you because I want to be with you. Understand? He and I...our friendship. We're going to see if our friendship can be saved. He has Bruce, and I have you. I don’t... I’m not that kind of guy."

 

And he knew she had every single right to feel that way. He had sex with her when he shouldn’t have, gotten attached to soon too close to his last relationship, and he knew she had every right to feel this way. And damn him, for hurting over it.

 

"You... oh, Pete."  Shayla felt about an inch tall.  "I... I know you're not, I'm sorry."  She put her arms around his neck, hid her face there as she cried softly.  "I should never, ever have thought you'd do that.  I just... I know how you felt about him... I just... I thought if he wanted you back you'd go."  She hugged him tighter.  "I'm so, so sorry.  I shouldn't have thought that, shouldn't have said that.  You're not like that, I know that, I'm just stupid."  She curled up next to him, squeezing him tight.

 

"Shayla." He whispered, pulling her close and shaking his head. "No, don’t cry baby, don’t cry sugar. You’re..." He held her tightly to him, rocking her as he spoke. "You're the most important person in my life. Whenever I’m scared I’m losing myself, whenever I feel like there’s no hope you're just there, and you protect me, and I couldn’t love you more for it. I love you, Shayla. You’re my friend, and you're my lover, and I’m scared of feeling this way because in my heart, what I felt for Sam, for Dick, wasn’t this... this kind of love. Do you understand?  Whenever... whenever I need a friend, you're always on my side. Whenever I need to cry... you're there to be my shoulder. Whenever I feel like seeing tomorrow is too hard, you're there, and you care, Shayla. And I’m scared of it, shitless."

 

That made her feel even smaller, and better at the same time.  Mostly smaller.  "I understand," she choked out, but didn't stop crying.  "I love you too, Pete.  So much, I thought I was going to die when you called Dick and I thought you were getting back together with him cause I don't know what I'd do without you."  She didn't let go of him, wasn't going to let go of him.  "I am your friend, Pete.  I'm your friend, I love you, I'm always going to be there, and I promise, promise, promise I'm not going to make stupid assumptions again, I'm sorry."

 

"You were right to assume, sweetie." He let go of her to cup her face, hold it close to him and look into those smeared, wet eyes. He felt harsh male terror at each tear, and he would have promised her the Nile if she wouldn’t cry anymore. "Please, don’t cry, don’t cry anymore baby, you break my heart, don’t cry anymore." He pulled her close again. "I can't stand it when you cry, don’t cry anymore."

 

"I was wrong," she sniffled softly.  "Wrong to think you'd be like that.  Wrong to think you were a jerk, wrong to think you'd leave me."  But she swallowed hard, hugging him as blinked hard, pushing out the rest of her tears and trying to stop crying for him.

 

"You were right to assume. Do you hear me?" He kept her face close to his shoulder, rubbing the back of her skull gently as his arm kept her tight to his chest. "I’ve been nothing but a pig to you, and it stops, now. Swear it on my collection of Puff Daddy albums, Shay."

 

"You've been great to me," she protested, muffled into his shoulder.  "You've loved me and slept with me and held me and let me blow you and watched Buffy and fed me Chinese food, and stood up to my brother and you've just been terrific."

 

"I slept with you when I shouldn’t have, I took… took advantage of you, and I piled my problems on you and I’ve been a selfish fucker. I won't anymore; not anymore. I promise you." Pete nodded against her face, pulling away to cup her cheeks and look at her again. "Are you okay?"

 

"You have not, and stop it right now."  She sniffled as she looked up at him.  "Yeah.  Yeah, I'm okay.  I got you, don't I?  Then I'm okay."

 

The words made him stop, and he didn’t know it now, but years down the line when they were standing in front of the altar together he'd repeat the very same words that changed his life.

 

In that instant, that very nanosecond of time... it all… clicked.

 

And he smiled at her, stroking her hair from her face, and nodded. "I’ve got you, and I’m just fine."

 

A wet smile up at him and she snuggled into his shoulder.  Her arms were tight around his neck, and she kissed his lips softly.  "You're gonna be great, Pete Ross.  Just you wait and see."

 

"I dunno about that, Senatori." He murmured, pulling her around his body and kissing those soft lips. "Having you around makes me a decent guy."

 

"Nah, you're already a decent guy.  I just sort of... polish up the edges."

 

And as the two people spoke softly to one another in the back... Chloe glanced over at her boyfriend, and took his hand, wrapping her much smaller palm around his. She loved this man, with everything inside of her.

 

And decided, after days of thought, to tell him  that she might be pregnant with his baby.

 

 

-fin-

 

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