Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Post Up...And One! ❯ Somebody Told Me ( Chapter 17 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

A/N: Sorry...but the ride is over. This is the last chapter that I have for this fic. Pretty interesting and entertaining, huh? XD Makes me laugh whenever I read it. Man, who wrote this? Heh...I did. (so proud)

Chapter Seventeen:
“Somebody Told Me” The Killers



Dost gave an impatient sigh as Trek dumped a pile of papers onto his desk. Quatre was nearby, sullenly putting together packets of legal documents that Dost had ordered over an hour ago. The office was quiet, for once, the three working in relative silence. Quatre was thinking over Jake’s words the night before–he felt horribly depressed in that Jake wasn’t ready for the finer things in life. It was just one of those things that occurred when he thought it was all going to work out for him. Something was always eager to bring him down when he was up. He wondered about that...who was so dead set against him?

Dost slumped low in his chair, exhaling loudly at the ceiling. It had been the only movement he gave during the last two hours, and he’d been done nothing but sighing heavily and breathing heavily through his nose, prompting his two workers to glare at him suspiciously. Trek gave his boss a wary glance, then looked over at Quatre with a raised eyebrow. Quatre sensed the look, looking up from his work to see Trek’s annoyed expression. They scowled at each other with no real malice, then went back to their own thing. The silence was comfortable–for once, no one was baiting each other. It gave Quatre the creeps.

Actually, it gave him the space he needed to concentrate on his life. While still firmly comfortable in that he hadn’t had to pay any bills, or give any real attention to the obstacles of real life, all he was really stressing about was the business with Jake and Trowa.

Thinking about them now, he ignored Dost’s millionth heavy sigh and shifting in his black leather chair, Trek deliberately dropping a stack of papers onto his desk, sending previously placed stacks toppling.

Dost cleared his throat. “So, Quatre...score any last weekend?”

“GODDAMMIT, boss!” Trek roared, throwing his last stack of papers into the air. As various papers rained down over him, he slapped both hands onto the desk and glared hard at his employer. Dost shifted to stare at him with a bored expression. “For one day–for one FUCKING day–! Please don’t do the homo bullshit!”

Dost blinked curiously, then shifted once more to prop his foot at the edge of the desk edge. “What? I’m sorry, Trek, are you feeling neglected again? Do you want a back rub? Peanut butter? Blow?”

“Actually, no, I didn’t score at all,” Quatre said over the strangling sounds from Dost. “My new boyfriend isn’t ready for anything, yet, and it’s pissing me off cuz I really really think he’s hot! And you know how I am...I think...I’m a whore. I need sex.”

Trek stopped strangling his boss long enough to give a wretched expression, slapping chubby hands over his ears. With a dismayed growl, he stomped away from them, heading over for the door. “I’m going for coffee!”

Dost straightened his collar, blinking watery red eyes from the strangling. He straightened in his chair, scooting close to the desk as he folded his hands underneath his chin, elbows on desk.

“What’s wrong with you young people these days?” he asked in a tired voice, eyes rolling with exasperation. “Don’t you know that waiting gives a couple a better chance of survival? You can’t just jump right into bed five seconds after meeting...you’ve got to make it WORK.”

“This is America! Now is NOW!” Quatre exclaimed, pounding the table where he worked. “I, as an American citizen, DEMAND now for NOW!”

“True, true...Americans are kinda pushy and needy for things on the NOW...but where’s the romance? The intrigue? The chase? Yeah, it’s fun to have it then and there, but have you ever considered that not everyone wants it right now now now?”

“...Who wouldn’t want it now?” Quatre asked with a confused expression, finishing his stapling.

“Apparently, your boyfriend.”

“But...he’s a guy...I’m a guy...we have guy hormones that need to be appeased NOW. Men are supposed to be insatiable beasts...which is part of the reason why I enjoy being gay. So I don’t have to deal with proposed headaches, cramps, General Hospital...”

“Not all guys want it NOW; some do want romance and assurance that they’re not going to be thrown away the next day.” Dost rolled his eyes once more, slumping against his desk, looking more of a sullen child than a successful overlord. Quatre gave him a skeptical glance–Dost was actually listening to his problems? Giving suggestions? It was kinda funny–but his hormones didn’t think so.

“Take Trek, for example. The guy’s cravin’ lovin’. He needs a hug, but he’s too manly to ask for it, so he beats around the bush with violence and insults until I just...glomp him while he’s off-guard in the men’s room.”

Quatre raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Then he’s cool until I’ve got to trap him again.”

“The point being...?”

“Guys like being chased, too,” Dost said on a shrug.

Quatre stared at him for a few moments, blinking as he thought this over. He was sure there was a life lesson in there...somewhere...

“And besides, if ya do have feelings for this hot stud, don’t you think it’s considerate of you to wait until he’s ready?”

“...He’s not being considerate, knowing full well what my needs are.”

Dost closed his eyes, and counted to ten–in Pig Latin. Then he shot out of his chair. “I have an idea! Oh, stab me with a spork, I’m DONE! How’s this for teenage entertainment? ‘Days of our World’... starring YOU. Kinda like ‘Real World’, and kinda not. I’ll have cameras following you around, and then we’ll see how the viewers think about your insatiability...then when you watch yourself on tv, you’ll realize what a fool you’re making yourself out to be.”

“YOU’RE NO HELP!”

“Bwa ha ha ha ha! Did anyone ever tell you how you resemble a deranged bunny when you’re mad?”

#20#20#20#20#20#20#20

“Your boss gave you ‘love advice’?” Justin looked at Quatre in disbelief, lowering his Gatorade. The two had met for lunch; between classes and work load, the two were sharing a pizza at Pizza Plus and halving the single pitcher of beer. To keep it even, Justin was chugging a glassful of Pepsi and Gatorade to keep the alcoholic smell off of him. During it all, Quatre was venting what he’d learned and what had happened to Mr. Ogre’s owner.

“Yeah. I kinda didn’t pay too much attention to him... you can’t take the guy seriously, sometimes. I mean, in his downtime, he plays Kirby’s Dreamworld, and takes advice from Ginger.”

“...Who’s Ginger?”

“Some...CARTOON. Never mind. But the thing is–”

“Maybe he’s right, man. Sometimes, sometimes a guy don’t wanna jump in the sack too soon. ‘Specially guys that just suddenly realized they were fuckin’ gay.” Here, Justin rolled his eyes. “I can’t see the guy as a poof. I mean, seriously–the guy fucked over everyone on the court, and here, he’s all craving cock.”

“Not enough to get it on with me, though!” Quatre snapped, angrily gnawing at a buffalo wing.

Justin smirked at him. “Maybe it’s all you, man. Maybe you’re the unappetizing one...”

“How can that be?” Quatre exclaimed. He had sauce all around his mouth as he gestured with the mutilated appetizer. “I mean, I have guys all up on my ass ALL the time! Even the straight ones!”

“You don’t...”

“And he’s the one that came onto ME. I mean, yeah, I fucked around with him and everything, but he’s the one that confessed to me that he liked me! I’m feeling neglected, here!”

“Q, you’re such a girl. God. Me, me, me!” Justin sang, then chugged the rest of his beer. Belching, he shook his head. “I seriously don’t hear this shit with Passage.”

“That’s cuz Leash is all man, and nobody believes me!” Quatre snapped. He tossed the bones aside as he started in on a slice of pizza. “Besides her–this is serious.”

“I am being serious. I just can’t take you seriously when it comes to you whinin’ and cryin’ about things girls normally cry around about...”

Quatre rolled his eyes, and threw his hands up in exasperation. “FINE! Fine...let’s drop it. So...how’s the minor?”

“God...don’t get me started. He’s like a fuckin’ FUNGUS. No matter how many fuckin’ times I try to scrape him off my ass, he’s still there.”

“Does he do you, or you do him?”

“Motherfucker! I told you–ain’t NOTHIN’ goin’ on like that! He’s fuckin’ FIFTEEN. If fuckers hear about me bein’ with him, I’mina get my ass tossed into–”

Quatre laughed, interrupting him. “You can’t keep denying it, Judicial! I know you’re doing him!”

Justin shrugged. “He’s the only one that would let me.”

Quatre laughed again, then winced as he tried to imagine tiny, ninety pound Jay taking in all of Mr. Ogre. It was quite a feat, actually. He probably couldn’t shit good for AT LEAST a month. He chuckled at the thought.

‘Yeah...but, fuck that. I didn’t come out here just ta talk about that bullshit...hey, what’s this about Passage’s man cheatin’ on her?”

“What? You heard about that?”

“Who the hell hasn’t? ‘Cept her?” Justin chuckled as he covered a slice of pizza with red peppers and Parmesan cheese.

Quatre laughed uproariously. “Dude, he was fucking DRUNK!”

“Did you two...?”

“Nah. I didn’t. Actually, I was going to take up on the offer,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “but then I realized how much I like my dick where it was, so I didn’t.”

“Who’d he do it, with?”

“I dunno. Seriously, I remember bits and pieces–one minute he was practically gettin’ it on with me on the dance floor–”

“You dance?” Justin asked incredulously, giving him a double take.

“No...never mind that. But then next, he was grinding with this chick...she looked really familiar...I swear I seen her, before...She was an older woman. I dunno about her looks.”

Justin’s eyebrows rose high. “A woman, huh? Older one? What’d she look like?”

“I don’t check women out, man. I’m just saying...I dunno. But check this–anything goes on the dance floor, right? Dude...he was so fucking smashed, he was all letting this chick get all over him. There was even a point where she was fingering him. Honestly? It was hot. I never thought I’d get all excited about a woman and a man, but the way he was doing things...Heh. So, Leash doesn’t know?”

“I heard this from someone else that was there, that night. They saw him making out with someone near the bathroom. I guess when she finds out, she finds out. He’ll probably tell her, though.”

“Yeah...heh...Max is hot.”

“Yeah. He is.”

#20#20#20#20#20#20#20

“WHAT?” Felicia shrieked, Max wincing at the volume of her voice. Instantly, she was off the floor, leaping straight onto the kitchen island with barely any effort–and the surface was over four feet high. Sometimes, her prowess and agility really impressed Max–this was not one of those times. “YOU WHAT?”

“I am so sorry, honey,” he said, giving a troubled look at the stove, where ramen boiled. “I swear, I don’t remember a thing! But...I...I can’t keep this to myself–!”

“HOW COULD YOU?”

“I...I have no excuse. I drank too much. I...I wasn’t–God, I wasn’t thinking–!”

Felicia clenched her fists, giving an enraged snarl as her legs spread, feet smashing down on chips, sandwiches and slices of cheese. Max had just let her know what he remembered doing that night–sans Quatre involvement–and she was giving him just a tip of what she was feeling.

“YOU CHEATED ON ME? WITH A MAN?”

“I...I’m so sorry...I don’t remember anything...I...I can’t even think of whom he–”

“WAS IT QUAT, YOU CHEATIN’ BASTARD???”

“No,” he replied softly. “I already asked him. He said it wasn’t with him. I didn’t get to find out whom it was. Sylvia interrupted.”

“LIEESSSS!”

“No! Honest! Please, sweetie–! Calm down. Please? We still have a security deposit to think about–if you destroy things–”

“GWAR!!! I can’t believe this! I can’t believe you!” Felicia raged, kicking the sandwiches aside. Max felt himself die a little as she threw her fists about, leaping up and down in a rage, working herself up to a fit. He wondered if he’d better make a quick getaway–maybe lock himself in the bedroom to pack a few things. Beg his way back to his parents’ good graces–no. he’d just shack out with a friend. Until...until they could decide what to do about his cheating.

“AND NO PICTURES TO VERIFY THIS?”

Max swore he heard a record scratch. He blinked, looking up at her in shock. “Wha–? Like...tabloids?”

“How the hell else would I drool over this?”

“... ‘drool’...?”

“GODDAMN YOU! You know what? I should be really pissed at you. I mean, tremendously pissed. Cuz you didn’t get any pictures. Dude, do you realize what this means??? This means you owe me! Quick! The brothel closes at twelve! We can get down there, an’ you can make it all up by gettin’ laid by one of them–!”

“FELICIA!” Max howled in disbelief, face reddening. Felicia stopped raging, and looked at him curiously. “WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?”

“Man, I’m just sayin’–you wanna get back in my good graces, you better hook up with another man. Ooh! Ooh! This time, I’ll pick him out. An’ take pictures. It’ll be great! Our own lil’ stash! Well, mine, really, since it’s up to you to kiss ass fer a little while...til I can forgive ya...”

Max dragged his hands down his face, shaking his head from side to side. “Felicia Ann PASSAGE!”

“Christ...what the fuck did I NOT do now?”

Felicia jumped down from the kitchen island, and stared at her boyfriend with a contemplative expression. Yep...he owed her big time. For him to go behind her back with a guy, to get it on when she completely missed out...he had some serious ass-kissing to do. She clenched her fists, shaking her head with disappointment.

“That would’ve been so hot to see!” she declared, pumping her fist. “After all, you do have the best cum face a guy could ever have...”

“How many guys have you seen with a cum face?”

“...seriously? Or...imaginitively?”

“...Felicia...”

&# 8220;DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU AND YOUR MAN HORMONES! What about me? What about MY needs? Why didn’t you stop and think that maybe I wanted to be witness to this tryst of yours?” she exclaimed, hands on her chest. She suddenly grew distracted by the feel of her newly gained breasts, and looked down her own shirt at them in curious speculation.

Max pulled her close to him, and hugged her tightly–as tightly as he possibly could, because he knew he wasn’t able to hurt or damage her physically.

“I can’t believe you’re taking it this way,” he muttered into her hair, his fingers raking down her back. “You’re supposed to be angry at me–”

“I AM!”

“Not like this! You’re supposed to hate me! For cheating on you, period!”

“Why would I? If it were a woman...then...pfft!” Felicia pulled away from him, then pulled his face forward for a quick peck. “I don’t care if you were with some guy, man! I ain’t scared. ‘Sides, men on men action is HOT. Hot, hot, hot.”

Max felt relief flood through him–he stared at his live-in lover, and appraised her current mood. She was cleaning up the mess she had made, muttering about selfishness and secrets, but it really didn’t seem like she was bothered by it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it–it was insane. But on a different level, he was truly not complaining.

He breathed a sigh of relief–and helped her clean up the mess.

#20#20#20#20#20#20#20

“THAT MOTHERFUCKER!” Felicia screamed, slamming the helpless Dumpster up and down in frantic fury. Yoshida stood in the alleyway, smoking as Quatre stared at Felicia with a mixture of fear and fascination. The superhuman had worked herself up to a rage, and while it was as intense as seeing a fatality on the freeway, it was actually quite neat. Felicia had shown she was strong enough to toss men around with her little finger, but to actually display her superhuman strength with this show was something else.

“HOW DARE HE CHEAT ON ME? WITH A GUY? WASN’T I ENOUGH FOR HIM?”

“I know. Bastard. You’re a female in body only,” Yoshida sympathized, exhaling a mouthful of smoke that made Quatre cough.

“GWAR! I LIED THROUGH MY FUCKIN’ TEETH, TOO! I couldn’t show him that inside, I was FURIOUS! If I did–!” Felicia tossed the Dumpster away from her, and kicked in a trashcan. The unfortunate metal clung to her foot, then, the way an aluminum can would when one would step on it lengthwise. As she kicked the air, trying to get it off, she continued to rage. “GWAR! MEN! I fucking HATE ‘EM! DEATH TO MEN!”

“Oh, honey, you don’t mean that. Dildos really aren’t a good replacement.”

Quatre snorted, shaking his head. He was not going to confess what he knew–who knew what the girl was capable of in this mood? “Felicia...if you said it was okay...then why are you freaking out? And why drag me into this?”

“Because, my blond lovely uke....you were with him.” Felicia kicked the trash can off her foot, and whirled around to face him. Her kohl lined eyes were widened with fury, and Quatre drew back at the expression on her face. Until he hit an unmovable form behind him. He looked back to see that Yoshida was standing directly behind him–a smirk on her face.

He felt his face pale. “HEY!”

“Who was the bitch, Q?” Felicia asked, a strange sort of calm drifting into her voice as she began walking over. “Who was the guy? I just wanna know...I mean, you saw him, right? You saw who it was...who was it?”

“I honestly don’t know! I told you–! We were separated!”

“But he told me he was dancing with YOU, Q. YOU! Of all people, YOU! He was with YOU!”

“...I think we established that, already,” he said nervously as she drew to a stop before him, crossing her arms over her chest. He opened his mouth to say something when his eyes dropped from her eerily calm expression to the sudden mounds that were visible above her camisole. “When did you get boobs?”

“Aren’t they cute?” she exclaimed, looking down her shirt. “I fill out my bras, better! Plus, in the shower, I–hey, wait a minute! Stop playing your mind games, Q! I wanna know who it was, Quatre! And you ain’t leavin’ until you confess! An’ both of us...will find ways to make you confess...”

“C–c’mon, Leash! The hell! I told you–I already told you! I don’t know who it was, he was with!” Quatre exclaimed, hands out to his sides.

“DON’T GIVE ME THAT! I have your minds, Quatre Rebarbababarber–damn. I hate your middle name. WINNER! I know when you guys cover for each other...I know it. I fuckin’ HELP you guys cover! Now...the name...the face...fork it over...or else Yoshida will get nasty on you...”

Yoshida leant down slightly–being tall at five foot eleven, she was face level with Quatre. Possibly even his same height.

“And I can get pretty naughty, baby,” she whispered, her breath a tingle of roses and candy. She batted her stoned blue eyes prettily, lips curving with a smirk.

“Jesus Christ,” Quatre muttered, feeling sick as he held both hands over his stomach.

“C’mon, QUAT! Just a name! A FACE! ANYTHING! I wanna know who this bitch is that took over my bitch!” Felicia roared. “Mano e mano...”

“I always knew you were a man–that’s not the point! The point is, I don’t know who it was!” Quatre exclaimed again, shaking his head furiously. “And this is not funny, Felicia!”

“DO YOU SEE ME LAUGHING?” she roared, punching the air with a fist. “I’m fuckin’ PISSED! Too pissed to LAUGH!”

“C’mon!”

“Quatre, Quatre, Quatre...you really don’t wanna make me do this...” Felicia then said with a sigh, hanging her head. She withdrew her cell phone from her pocket, shaking her head in disappointment as she rifled through the files she held. Quatre blinked, wondering what she was looking up as Yoshida stepped away from him.
Finally, Felicia held up her phone–revealing pics she had taken of him and Trowa over a few years ago...he blinked. She then began messing with it, thumbs flying over buttons furiously.

“A little digital remake here...lengthening here..there...lightening...ah. Aren’t these pretty? I could post ‘em up on an art site...”

She held up the phone once more, Quatre’s mouth falling open. She had, within moments, completely digitalized the photo that she had accessed to make it look as if she’d taken the pictures very recently–his and Trowa’s features had been feathered and shaded to make them look older than they were in the pics, and the background had been changed into that of the club that had made this entire adventure take place.

“Oh my GAWD,” he exclaimed, reaching for the phone. “That’s a really neat program! How in the world did you–?”

“Jake’s an insecure dawg, homie!” Felicia then roared, holding her phone above her head, no matter that Quatre could still reach it easily. “If he gets these, what’s he gonna think and do?”

Quatre paled, his hand dropping to his side as this hit home. An evil smirk caressed Felicia’s face as she made the phone dance in front of him, the photo blatantly obvious of a tryst that Jake should not know about.

“Ooh...you’re so evil,” he muttered, eyeing her with approval. “I’d forgotten about that...”

“The face and the name, jerk.”

“Well...shit. Shit. It didn’t come from me...”

“Thas a good boy, Quat. Good doin’ business with you,” Felicia said with a grin, patting his shoulder.

Yoshida nudged Quatre’s elbow with hers. When he looked at her, she shook her head. “Never piss off a pregnant lady...”

Quatre whirled around to look at Felicia with a surprised expression. “WHAT?”

“IT’S UNCONFIRMED!”

“But...but...only females can have babies!”

“FUCK YOU!”


#20#20#20#20#20#20#20

Trowa angrily regarded his current piece of art with a vengeful eye, black paint splatters covering his arms and face. He’d been working non stop over the past few days, wanting to escape the horror that had happened at Quatre’s apartment that Sunday. He was pissed–and hurt...but not completely defeated.

Because he knew Quatre still had feelings for him. The blond was just playing hard to get. And while the game was fun to play, and more than challenging, he had to admit that every battle lost caused him a little stress.

And losing to that cocky grease monkey Jake Trip pissed him off to no end.

He flung his paintbrush away from him, storming away from his painting. He’d set up a small area in his newly acquired studio for his art exclusively, and had minimal furniture. Thanks to Drake and the others, who were willing to furniture shop with him in the upperclass region of New Park, he now had a black leather couch, a fifty-two inch television screen, some lamps, a table, and a couple of Jim Morrison paintings. It didn’t take up even half the living space, but it was enough for him.
Walking into the kitchen, he jerked the fridge open and contemplated the soda, bananas and bread within. He took a soda, ripped out a slice of bread, and grabbed a banana. Taking his time, he sliced up the banana, and laid the pieces carefully over the slice of bread. Then he closed the slice, and ate it like that as he ventured back into his art space.

Scrutinizing his painting, which was of a black devil rising from the pits of a man’s ass, he had just decided on using some dark red to depict flame when the buzzer to his studio rang. He glanced over at the door in irritation, then returned to his painting, chewing on his sandwich. The buzzer rang again, and he huffed in annoyance.
When the door was being kicked upon, he stormed away from the painting and jerked the door open. Drake walked in with a grin, Samantha trailing after him, and...surprise surprise, GoDarun was with him. He didn’t know of the alien’s princely status–just that he hadn’t seen him in a while.

“Damn, man, I don’t even wanna know what’s up there,” Drake declared, pointing in the general direction of his painting. “Hey, came to see if ya wanna go cruisin’ for awhile?”

“That bored?” Trowa asked, frowning at Samantha as she tried to sit down on the couch–and sat on wax paper that had once contained pizza slices.

“C’mon, it’ll be like the old days...’sides...we kinda in the mood for mischief.”

“The trunk’s loaded with toilet paper,” Go said helpfully, having never lost his childlike expressions.

Trowa blinked, thinking about it. He hadn’t been out for awhile...and what better way to stew about things than hanging out with some people that were just looking for fun? He finished his sandwich and nodded. “Fine. But we’re bringing turpentine, too.”

“Dude...what happened to your car?” Drake then asked him. “It’s all fucked up.”

“Sylvia found me.”

“She did that?” Samantha asked in a squeal, eyes blinking rapidly. “She actually did that?”

“I just said so, didn’t I?”

“Sylvia who?” Go asked, blinking curiously.

Drake jerked a thumb in Trowa’s direction. “He was shacked up with Sylvia Noventa...until he got cheatin’ with Quat, again.”

“Oh...oh...I see...Sorry. I haven’t been back to Earth in a while,” Go apologized, smiling at Trowa.

The goth shrugged.

“You’re still in love with Quatre, Trowa?” Go then asked softly, tilting his head. “I thought you two were over each other?”

“Fuck that shit! I don’t wanna talk guy on guy shit!” Drake demanded, waving his hands around. He hit Go’s hip with the back of one. “Why you wanna do that? Considerin’ your past an’ all...?”

“Hey, it doesn’t mean that I have to hate friends that are like that.”

“What’s this about?” Trowa then asked curiously, locating his old canisters of turpentine. Drake helped him, and the four left his studio, Trowa not caring about his paint splattered appearance. Samantha just made sure Drake couldn’t see her checking out the goth’s ass as he lugged the canisters toward Drake’s awaiting Mustang.

“Oh...it’s nothing...I don’t wanna talk about it,” Go said nervously, wincing.

Drake laughed as he loaded up what he was carrying into the trunk, Trowa following through a few moments later. “Dude, check this out–Go’s an alien, right? Well, see, it goes like this–”

Trowa blinked in surprise as Go’s foot settled firmly against Drake’s head, toppling the neon blue haired loudmouth into his own trunk. With a smoother movement, he flicked the hood shut as Drake hollered from within.

“Got the keys?” he then asked Samantha, who grinned, flashing the keys.

Trowa stared up at Go in surprise–it had never been the boy’s nature to be so aggressive...hell, the guy’s head was always up in the clouds! But he shrugged, and ignored Drake’s protests and shouts as they climbed into the car, Samantha squealing in excitement as she got to drive.

#20#20#20#20#20#20#20

Jake tiredly sank onto the couch that Friday night, kicking off his work boots. As he stared up at the ceiling with a groggy expression, wondering what he should toss into the microwave, there came a low knock on the door. He closed his eyes, wishing for the visitor to just go away–it was nearly two o’clock in the morning, and he barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief.

But he pulled himself from the couch and staggered over to the door. He removed the chain and unlocked the door, opening it to see that Quatre was standing there, grinning cheesily. It was enough to make the older male look at him suspiciously.

He almost shut the door on his face when Quatre shoved his way in, carrying a black bag that Jake KNEW contained things he didn’t want to see, yet.

With a wince, he shut and locked the door, then turned to face the blond with a tired expression.

“Seeing as you worked so hard today–! I brought you some gifts!” Quatre declared, holding up the bag.

“...Do I even wanna know what’s in there?” Jake asked grumpily, running a hand through his dark blond hair before dragging it over his face in an effort to wake himself up.

“Well...probably not just yet,” Quatre amended, sitting down on the couch. “But I was doin’ some thinkin’–and no, nothing evil happened, nothing broke, nothing HURT! But I was thinking–the only reason why you are so afraid to delve into things is because you lack certain knowledge of... things.”

“Quatre, look–I’m tired. I’ve got to get up in a few hours. So...I dunno. Just...spend the night, or go. Cuz I don’t feel like playing any games, or anything.”

“No, no! It’s cool! It’ll just be really quick–! It won’t take more than five minutes of your time! Unless...of course...you’ve got questions.” Quatre looked at him, jiggling his knees. He then frowned. “Um...do you know your truck’s covered with toilet paper?”

“WHAT?”

“No, no, pay attention to this. I’ll help you clean it up later on...Come. Sit.”

Warily, Jake eyed him with indecision, then joined him on the couch. Quatre, grinning at him, reached into his bag of goodies and withdrew a box full of Trojan condoms.

“Oh, dear GOD!” Jake exclaimed, hands over his face as Quatre waggled the box around, making the contents jiggle inside.

“These are condoms. Safe sex is good sex. Course, I brought flavored ones, too. In case you don’t feel comfortable with direct skin to skin contact during a blow job...and...this baby here...Astronomical Lube 3000...tingles when it comes into contact with warmth. It’s easy to clean up, too. I’ll just set this under the couch...right there. THERE! In case something comes up and we need it. Now, this–! This is something I borrowed from Max. He assured me that it’s completely bi–that way, if you’re overwhelmed by men getting it on with men, there’s some men on women action in there...kinda helps out if you feel too sickly. I dunno. I never saw it. But that’s something to watch if you’re ever curious as to how things go. And this–! THIS! Every gay man MUST have this in their porn collection!”

Jake sighed, his head banging back against the couch. “What is it?”

“‘Alexander’, of course. It’s soft core. Colin Farrell and Jared Leto? THAT’LL get you in the mood. Seriously. Oh, and it has that Angelina chick, but who cares about her?”

“Quatre, I–I really don’t–shit.”

“What? I’ve been insensitive to your needs, Jake, and I’m trying to really...I dunno. I figured you’re uncomfortable with gay sex cuz you never really checked it out. So I took the liberty of–hey. Where you going? Hey! Come back here! I still need to explain how to use the scissoring motion!”