Summary:

Donald has rules for his hookups. No relationships, no kissing, no getting attached. He has plans and a real future ahead of him, there was no room for another person. Especially if that person was five foot ten inches of puppy dog eyes and contagious laughter.

Jesse, the classic boy next door, wants to join the Trebles for less-than-innocent reasons. He has his sights set on the unattainable beat box and he won't stop until he gets him. He'll sacrifice his morals, his standards, but can't stand lying.

Hearts are broken, futures are ruined, but love finds its way in the end.


It was never too late to start over.

At least, that's what he'd always been told. That no matter how many things went wrong or how many people turned against you, you always deserved a second chance. It was what he needed and he was going to use this new school year as the marker.

He needed to shed off the skin of the old Donald and begin again, an untrodden version of himself that would take charge and steer his life back into the direction it needed to be. His priorities had to be straightened out. It was time to concentrate on himself, his career, and graduating. The Treblemakers, they deserved more attention than he'd been giving them. His music – God, his music had suffered.

Too long he'd been wrapped up in Bumper and his stupid drama. His tyrannical reign, his dumb choices, his insane notion that they belonged together. It was overwhelming at best. For the past year, Donald had nearly lost himself within the other man's mentally abusive bullcrap.

This is the choreography you came up with? Hat could do better than this!

Please don't tell me this is what you've been working on? You wasted three months and that's all that you came up with? Wow, man

Just sit this one out, Donny, you're obviously not on your game today

It had gotten to the point where he didn't even like Bumper anymore. It had taken him way too long to break it off. But they'd been best friend for three years. They'd started the Trebles together, they'd practically grown roots into each other from how much time they'd spent together. It had seemed natural for them to hook up, an inevitable step in their relationship, but it had been the worst decision of his life. Instead of a fun fuck buddy he'd gotten a creepily possessive asshole who he wasn't in love with. He didn't need someone in his life who thought it was okay to slam him up against a wall and demand to know why he'd been talking to some fan for more than a few minutes.

Bumper hadn't taken it well.

This summer, man, let's just cool it off.

So, what? You're breaking up with me?

You have to be together to break up. It's just better if we don't see each other again until the semester starts.

Fine. But you'll be calling me in two weeks, I bet money.

True to his word, Bumper had stayed away for as long as the weather was warm. But with school starting up again and a new year of a capella looming, it was only a matter of time before he had to deal with him again.

With his new self-drive in place, Donald felt confidant in his plan to make this year all about him.

Jesse leaned back in his seat, eyes on the passing scenery and fingers drumming out a beat against his suitcase. His parents were up front talking amongst themselves, once in a while throwing a word to him about how proud they were or how much they'd miss him.

College. He blew out a long breath, tilting his head back a bit. It was a big change for him. He'd be out of the house and responsible for himself for the first time. He'd never slept more than thirty miles from his house before. He couldn't tell if his stomach was light from nerves or excitement, a heady dose of both swirling there.

His dad flicked through his mixed CD, settling on Carry On My Wayward son. Jesse started to half-heartedly sing along, every third word spilling from his lips as he took in the sights.

They pulled into the campus and it was amazing. He'd only seen it once but it had been at the tail end of spring, his allergies stinging his eyes and making his nose run through the entire tour. The grounds had all but been abandoned at the time and now it was crawling with life, alive with laughter and fully flourishing trees.

The car stopped to let a thick thrall of students through, all of them piled with suitcases and boxes for their dorms.

If he'd blinked, he would've missed him.

There was a man leaning against a tree just on the side of the road, eyes and fingers busy on his phone. He was tall and slim, looking for every intent and purpose like the center of the world. Calm, a focal point in the chaos around him. Uncaring of the commotion. The wind picked up and the clouds shifted, sun spilling over the other like the heavens were highlighting him and this moment. His hair was like fresh ink and shiny, the sun giving it an ethereal blue sheen like nothing he'd ever seen. His dark rimmed glasses did a good job of hiding his eyes, giving him a mysterious air. He was like a caramel skinned demi-god, a hipster Helios.

A really hot dude who he needed to get the attention of right now.

Jesse rolled down the window and picked up the song stronger than before, letting the music and his voice pour out.

"Masquerading as a man with a reason, my charade is the event of the season," Jesse sang out, ignoring the look his mom was giving him, "And if I claim to be a wise man, well, it surely means that I don't know."

The mystery man raised his head and caught his first glimpse of impossibly starless eyes.

"On a stormy sea of moving emotion. Tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean," he voiced loudly, putting everything he had in it, "I set a course for wings of fortune, but I hear the voices say! Whow!"

He belted out the air guitar, rocking it for all it was worth. His Helios smiled, small but true, and it was like he was seeing unfiltered sunlight. Like he was feeling it on his skin for the first time. It made him tingle down into his bones, recharging him and wiping out any tension he felt about the new year. That little gesture was hard-earned and it felt better than any trophy he'd ever won.

His dad practically slammed on the gas, smacking him against the seat.

Even sprawled across the seat, he couldn't stop smiling.

Donald's eyes followed the silver car, lips still turned up when he heard the boy inside it cry out as he was tossed around. The sound of Kansas slowly slipped away, the vehicle winding itself through the grounds and wayward students.

A shoulder brushed his, "Who's that?"

Donald was proud of himself for not jumping up into the tree like a startled cat, "We need to get you a bell or something man."

Bumper quirked an eyebrow at him, "I totally snuck up on you."

"Nope."

"You were scared shitless."

He turned his attention back to the mobile in his hands, "Don't think so."

"So?"

"Mm?"

"Seriously, though," some of the humor bled out of his voice, "Do you know him or something?"

Donald tapped out a text to his friend in New York, half a mind still on the cute boy, "No, but I want to."

"Some little lip-syncer in the back of a car? Please," Bumper pressed closer, fingers dancing over the back of his friend's belt and trailing up under his shirt a bit, "I think you have better things to think about."

Donald let out an ugly snort, "Like what?"

"Like me."

"Like whatever," Donald snapped his phone shut and slid I into his pocket, side-stepping away from the touch and starting back toward the Treblemaker house. There was a shuffle of sneakers on grass before a hand curled around his wrist and stopped him. It was tight enough to hurt but he didn't dare show it on his face.

Dark lips pursed, "No, Allen, we're not doing this."

"Doing what?"

Donald turned to fix him with a glare, "I told you we were done and I meant it. Let me go before I decide to bite you."

"Ooo, is that a promise?"

Donald resisted the urge to jab him in the ribs, "You are so fucking weird."

"You love me, I'm amazing," Bumper said with more conviction than he had any right to. The darker skinned boy tugged his hand loose from the other's slackened grip and continued across the lawn, slowing down only when his shoes hit sidewalk.

Bumper was still on his heels.

"Come on, Donny-baby, don't be like that," the older boy walked backward beside him, cheeks puffed out like he was the irritated one, "I'm sorry I grabbed you too hard."

Donald ignored him. Bumper sounded exasperated and that pissed him off.

"I texted and left you like a hundred voicemails to tell you I've changed. Look at me – I'm being nice," Bumper declared proudly, trailing off in a whine when the slighter boy wouldn't even slow down, "Stop ignoring me! That's so boring. You didn't talk to me all summer."

A lecherous grin pulled his lips, "Which is surprising because you usually can't go more than a week without a good fuck. We have a lot of catching up to do."

"You're vulgar as fuck, you know that?" he sounded curt even to his own ears.

Bumper realized his mistake too late, tripping up so hard he smacked into the nearest brick pillar, "Donny, dude, I was teasing."

"I'm going back to my room, B," Donald quickened his step, digging out his iPod and earphones as he walked.

The white boy seemed to perk up, "Cool."

"Alone!" he called over his shoulder, leaving him behind. He scrolled through his iPod until he found the C's, clicking on a song he'd never actually selected before. The opening lines poured through the buds, filling up his head.

Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done..

The day had been going by in a blur for Jesse. Benji was great. A little off-the-beaten-path, but a nice guy who he looked forward to rooming with. They agreed to head out onto the quad to check out the club fair, each booth more colorful and impressive than the last. It seemed to be a pretty open campus, the Gay-Straight Alliance booth attracting a large crowd while a couple of girls rolled around on the grass nearby showing just what hands were made for.

It seemed like he wasn't the only one full of first day excitement.

"Follow me," Benji threw his chin toward a group of guys gathered around a low wall by some steps, singing in harmony a capella style, "There's only one group on this campus worth joining. When it comes to Bardon, that's what being a man is all about."

"Huh, they're pretty good," Jesse observed fairly.

"The Treblemakers," Benji was completely star-struck, "The rock stars of a capella, the messiahs of Bardon."

He paused, "Well...besides athletes, frat boys, or any actual cool people."

"It's not so bad," the older boy bobbed his head along to the beat they were creating, "Actually, it's kind of great. Organized nerd singing, who knew?"

"I know, it makes so much sense," Benji agreed, tapping his shoulder, "How's your voice?"

"Decent," Jesse replied modestly, "Yours?"

"Same," though he didn't sound as sure, "I think I'm going to go introduce myself."

The Treblemakers ended their number on a strong note, cutting off cleanly. Benji kept talking about how he'd tried to talk to them before and failed but Jesse couldn't hear him over the sound of his own realization. There amongst the Trebles was his dark haired Helios, busy on his phone again and oblivious of anything beyond his screen.

"Okay, I'm going to do this," Benji finally stated, bringing himself up to his full height, "No need to panic, it's just a normal day."

But his new roommate was already halfway over.

"Jesse? Jesse!"

The older boy shot through the others straight to the wall in front of the mysterious boy. Benji tried to follow by the Trebles closed off, Bumper at the front frowning at him. He stuttered through an introduction, babbling about how he'd seen them perform before and their rendition of Magic Man had changed his life.

The lame in the air was chokingly thick.

Donald looked up at the noise and jolted when he found six feet of good looking in front of him, standing there staring in a way that would've been creepy if not for his charmingly large smile. He gathered back his composure and finished up his text.

"What's up, Kansas?"

Bumper stopped mid-insult and turned away from a crestfallen Benji, "You know these losers?"

"Nope," Donald shrugged with one shoulder.

"He knows this loser," Jesse thumbed at himself, hyper aware of how close they were and how badly he wanted to impress this guy he didn't even know.

"What?" Bumper made it sound like an accusation.

"We know each other," the freshman confirmed.

Donald made a show of pretending to think, "No we don't."

"We totally do," Jesse countered easily, glancing at Bumper, "I sang to him."

The Trebles leader puffed up like a cat and it made their beat box chuckle.

"It couldn't have been good or I would've remembered it," Donald waved it off.

Jesse clutched a hand over his heart, mouth dropping open comically wide, "You're hurting me, like, physically. I'm wounded, I'm bleeding."

Donald finally cracked a smile, "I bet."

"Ha! See," the younger man jabbed a finger at him, "He remembers me. We completely know each other. I'm Jesse."

"Donald."

"Donald," Jesse sighed, eyes raking over the other, "Hi."

Bumper cleared his throat, stepping up to them, "Listen, freshman, pack up Prestidigitation over here and fuck off. This spot is for Trebles only."

"I'm game," Jesse nodded, "We'll try out, then."

Donald pushed off the edge of the wall, getting to his feet, "Really?"

"Does being in the Trebles mean we get to spend time together?" Jesse inquired daringly, getting a rude sound from the Treblemakers leader.

"It's kind of inevitable," Donald admitted, "You get in and it'll be like every day, man."

"See? We're destined to meet," the freshman insisted, "I can sing, you can sing. We're going to make awesome music together."

"If you get in," Bumper butted in, "But you won't because you can't."

That threw the brunette off, "Can't?"

"Can't," the leader spat sharply, "You're not Treble material."

Donald huffed hard, already fed up with the other boy's needling. He tossed an arm around Jesse's shoulders, leading him past the others (who were staring way too intently and it was kind of freaking him out).

"Come to try outs, bring Magic Man here with you," he tossed his other over Benji's skinny shoulders, pulling him along, "Sing a few bars and we'll find out if you're actually Treble material. Something tells me the odds are in your favor here."

"Is it my sparkling personality? My wit?" Jesse batted his lashes at him, "My full-on puppy dog eyes?"

"I think – and I'm just going out on a limb here – that's it's your voice," he let them go to push them both in the middle of the back, urging them forward, "Now go practice before Thumper over here has a coronary. Don't say I never gave you nothing."

Benji looked stunned, his stride wooden and his eyes so wide it looked like it hurt. Jesse turned on the balls of his feet and walked backward to keep their stare, still grinning like an idiot.

When Donald finally managed to tear himself away and turn around, he found Bumper glaring and the others pointedly looking away.

"What?" he snarked.

Bumper ran his tongue along the top of his teeth, showing his agitation, "He's not getting into my group."

"If he's got the chops, he's totally getting into our group," Donald felt his mobile go off on his pocket and he knew exactly who it was, "I gotta take this. Try not to strain yourself, B."

Donald swung his messenger bag over his head and settled it at his hip, filing out of class with the rest of the students. He headed down the hall to the double doors, shouldering them open easily and slipping out into the warmth of the day. It would be getting chillier soon, it was almost time to break out the leather jacket and layers.

There was the sound of someone running up and trying to catch their breath behind him.

"Fuck off, Allen!" he fumed, turning to properly tell his stalker off. There was no one there but when he turned to look over his other shoulder it was nothing but smiles.

"Jesse," he breathed in relief, "Sorry. Thought you were someone else."

Despite the overabundance of smile, Donald couldn't deny how good the boy looked. He had a nice tan and a smooth jaw line, clean-shaven cheeks, a generous pink mouth. Subtle muscle lined his shoulders and biceps, his body far from ripped but a little broader than his own, maybe just as strong. He would probably look fantastic naked.

"You remembered my name," Jesse fell in step with him, "We're in the same history class."

"Are we?" he feigned disinterest.

"I was sitting in the back row and you were down in the front," Jesse explained, trying not to sound creepy as he heaved his backpack up higher, "That hair, like, eats light and there was no way it was anyone else but you."

He frowned, "How did that sound in your head?"

"Not as Benji-weird," Jesse made a face, "Anyway! We totally have a reason to hang out now. You know, to study, to learn, to flourish as academics."

"Your chipperness is nauseating," Donald pointed out, though it was rubbing off on him.

"Only for the first two times," Jesse gestured toward his head, like his personality was physically visible, "I've been told you get used to it."

He was starting to feel a little flirty and he knew it was time to cut it off, "Listen, we can't talk until after try-outs. It's a conflict of interest and I'm-"

"Are you're saying we're going to talk?" the freshman cut in, "To each other? With our mouths? That sounds kind of intimate, I don't know."

"I hear you get used to it," Donald teased, provoking a belly laugh from the younger man.

Donald hadn't realized how far they'd strayed from the pavement until they came to a drop off, a few feet above the sidewalk. A familiar brunette was waiting there, the books weighing down his drawstring bag revealing he'd just come out of class himself.

"What are you doing?" Bumper demanded, voice low and forcibly calm.

Donald made a face at him, "I'm going back to the house, you got a problem with that?"

The Trebles leader turned his attention to the freshman, "If you're trying to score extra points by stalking, it's not working. Come on, Donny."

Donald cringed at the nickname, watching his best friend hold out his hand to him. It was a placating action, a signal to Jesse of how much power he held over the beat box. He knew he should swat it away and keep going but it would cause more unwanted problems later on if he did. Reluctantly, he took Bumper's hand and let him help him down. A greedy hand trailed down his back and Donald immediately jerked away. He wasn't proud of himself for it but he walked away as fast he could, leaving them both behind without a word.

Bumper's watched the younger man closely, shaking him up a bit with the intensity of it, "Watch it, kid."

Jesse scrunched up his nose at him, "I'm like – what – three years younger than you?"

Bumper grunted out something that sounded like whatever before he hurried after the beat box, hoping to catch up with him.

Try-outs crept up on them. The ink had barely dried on the teachers first round of tests before it was there.

Donald herded the Trebles into their seats, doing his best to keep them together and quiet. Bumper hadn't bothered to show his face yet and he knew the moment he did all hell would break loose. He had never been good at keeping his mouth shut at these things. They didn't need to make asses of themselves this early in the game, it would set a bad example for the baby-capellas. He took his own seat and snagged his pen and clipboard out of his bag, a scoresheet already stuck to it.

A nasty comment was shot at the Bellas and he lashed out, smacking the back of a blonde head, "Watch your mouth, Greg."

The younger man settled lower in his seat, ducking his head as the other Trebles snickered at him.

"What up, my aca-crew?"

The insufferable bellow could only be one person.

"And the prodigal leader returns," Donald uttered distastefully, raising his voice as the older boy squeezed past him, "Bumper, my man!"

They bumped fists, his leader settled in the seat beside him, "So, what are we looking for today?"

"Ideally? Your back-up and another background," Donald replied, not even surprised by the fact he didn't know what they needed, "Any two will do though."

"I could do back-up?" Greg put out tentatively.

Donald lowered his clipboard to get a proper look at the blonde, "What?"

"Nothing," the blonde squeaked, going so low in the seat that he was nearly laying down.

The announcements were made and Donald tried to tune out Bumper's snide comments, only tuning back in when Justin came up with a handful of folders.

"Slim pickings," he griped, rifling through them with quick fingers. He stopped when an increasingly familiar smile came up, thumbnail tapping the edge of the picture as he read over the details. Played guitar, sang in choir, but no real modern singing experience. Donald liked to think himself attuned, and he'd heard Jesse talk enough to know his voice would sound good. How good he wasn't sure.

"No, no, no," Bumper plucked the file out of his hands, "There's no way I'm letting this wanna-be theater kid in."

"We're all theater kids," Donald grabbed it back, tucking it protectively to his chest, "If I have to sit here and listen to a dozen people belt out this cluster-fuck song, you can bare Jesse singing it."

The brunette grit his teeth, "I don't have to do shit."

"You do if you want to keep winning," he pointed out smugly, knowing by the set of his best friend's shoulders that he'd won. Bumper kept grinding out excuses and complaints but eventually settled down.

The auditions went by in a blur after that, one voice after another belting out Kelly Clarkson. Bumper had only chosen it because he knew how much Donald hated her music. He kept his ears open for the rest of the Trebles opinions on each performer, making notes for not only their candidates but those of their competition. Bumper would be quizzing him later because Heaven forbid their fearless leader write a thing down or bother to remember it.

Unicycle made a sound at the base of his throat, reaching across Bumper and tapping the beat box on the shoulder, "Hey, dude, it's that guy. Right? That one from before?"

Bumper snapped his teeth at him and the man withdrew his arm, "Whoa, sorry."

Donald raised his head, searching the stage. There was Jesse in a long sleeved blue shirt that looked amazing with his skin, softening up his appearance and making him look even younger under the bright lights. Once he saw Donald looking he seemed to relax a bit.

"Go ahead," Donald urged, sitting up straighter and giving the boy all his attention.

He started and everyone went quiet, every ear in the room tuned in. His voice was...lovely was such a girly word but it fit the freshman perfectly. Right next to adorable. His range and the richness of his tone was a refreshing different from the others, a legato pallet cleanser. His hands were fiddling and twisting in front of his chest, the only nervous gesture he allowed himself. Despite the difference, Donald could see how broad his palms were. They were bigger than his own, at least. He tried to keep himself from imagining anything too serious in front of everyone but a stray thought slipped past his iron control, a simple sensation of those hands resting on his shoulders and sliding down to touch his collarbone. He squirmed in his seat.

Just when he thought he had a tight lid on it, Jesse sang out his first complicated trill. The clean sound of it sent a rush of heat to his groin, his underwear rubbing wrong across his sensitive skin. His palm came down to subtly adjust himself, giving his hardening flesh a bit more room as the boy's voice fueled his desire. This was the first time singing had made him hard.

Bumper's hand crept over and along his knee, fingers curling and squeezing to try and take his eyes away from the freshman. It slid higher the longer he ignored it, the bend of his thumb just brushing the bulge in the material. It sent a different kind of tingle through the beat box, the kind that got his hand swatted away.

He managed to look away from Jesse long enough to see his friend staring daggers into him, "No."

"Yes."

"I think he's good," Hat whispered loudly.

Bumper kicked the back of his chair, "I didn't ask you, did I?"

Donald stood in front of the door. He wasn't sure how long he'd been there, the ache in his converse told him it was longer than he would've admitted to. He straightened his jacket and smoothed out his hair as best he could without a mirror, going over what he wanted to say. No need to blow it in front of the freshman.

Blow it, he made a face at that, There's nothing to blow. I'm just telling him he got in, that's it. No more flirting, he isn't worth it.

He forced himself to knock, squashing down the urge to bolt.

The door opened up and it was Benji standing there, looking so small inside a dark cloak of some sort. It took him a moment to realize what it was but a glimpse of the poster on the wall behind him put the pieces into place.

"Ah, Sith cape," Donald nodded in approval, "Not my first choice, but you kind of work it in a strictly don't-go-outside kind of way."

"Donald," the kid's voice had that same high-pitched tone he'd used when saying Bumper's name.

"O-kay," he drew out, "Is Jesse here?"

"Jesse? Right, Jesse," the second time he called the name out behind him, "Donald's here for you."

There was the sound of muffled music, like headphones being pulled out, "Sorry, man, what?"

Benji turned away from the Treble and pointed toward the cracked door, "Donald."

"Donald? Like here? Right there?"

A stack of something fell over and there was a thump.

Benji kind of flinched, "I just stacked those."

"Sorry, I'll do it again in a minute," Jesse rushed out, yanking open the door to reveal his flushed appearance and the rest of the room, "Donald, hi."

"Hi," Donald cast a look around the dorm, "Nice display. Very extensive."

Benji certainly wouldn't admit to squealing but there was no other word for the little sound he made.

"Not that I'm not thrilled to have you two stand here and repeat my name like it's going to summon another me or something, but I came here for a reason," Donald tried to clear the awkwardness but the two roommates were in fact staring in a rather unsettling way, "You made into the Trebles, Kansas. Congratulations. This is me contacting you...you know, directly. So, yeah."

The magician's stare became more expecting.

"Benji, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "Applebaum."

"You didn't make it, man, I'm sorry," he hated the way the younger boy seemed to crumple, "You have a good voice but it's really up to the guys who gets in. I voted yes, but...yeah."

He shut his mouth and let the boy rebuild himself to keep his dignity, his face a complacent mask.

"I understand," Benji tried to smile as he playfully punched Jesse in the arm, "Good job, roomie."

"Thanks," Jesse was trying to hide his excitement, "But they liked your voice! That's awesome. I told you!"

Benji kept on his half-hearted smile as he turned and went back to his stickered laptop and desk. Donald took this moment to leave, heading down the hall as quickly as he could. He was too busy scolding himself on the terrible idea to hear Jesse calling his name. The freshman quickly chased him down, cutting him off with a quick turn.

"I really made it?"

"Yep," Donald tried to walk around him by the boy was fast, "Okay, I'll bite. What?"

Jesse wet his lips before singing out softly, "Hey, I just met you, and this crazy-"

"No," Donald smothered his laughter as best he could.

"I just want your number," Jesse full-on pouted, "I'm not asking for a body part, just a couple of digits. Preferably in the right order."

"You don't need my number," Donald insisted, once more trying to step aside but getting blocked off with ease, "I don't give my number to strangers."

"We're not strangers, what an ugly word. We're practically besties," Jesse protested passionately, "What if I have questions? Suggestions? Complaints? Praises? What am I going to do? Where will I go? To Bumper? I don't think so."

Donald grabbed out the pen he'd used at try outs and clicked it open, holding out his hand. Jesse was about to protest about his lack of paper when he caught on, pulling up his sleeve and giving his arm instead. Donald grabbed the younger man's wrist and pulled it closer, baring a white expanse of forearm. And despite his wish to get the hell out of this whole situation, his fingers were slow on writing out all seven digits. He got a thrill out of the way the black ink bled and sunk into Jesse's pale skin, staining him. His own dark digits looked good wrapped around his wrist, the boy a good mix of soft and firm from fingers to jaw.

Jesse's breath hitched a few times, showing that he wasn't the only one affected. When Donald finally pulled away he dared to look the boy in the eyes, discovering them blown and his lower lip clamped between his teeth.

"There," he announced like he'd done something greater than write his number on his arm.

Jesse couldn't seem to look away, "Thanks."

"I'm leaving now," Donald slowly walked around him, he didn't move, "I'll see you later."

"Yeah."

Jesse came back to the room and shut the door behind him, slumping against the wood. Despite the computer on his lap, Benji was watching him with some intent.

"What happened?"

"Oh, Benji. Benji, Benji, Benji!" Jesse floated over to his bed and collapsed on it like a fainting couch, arm thrown over his head while the other laid over his stomach, "He's amazing."

"You've talked twice," Benji reminded him.

"We made a connection," Jesse held up his arm and stared at the dark numbers longingly, "Our eyes met across the campus, I sang, he smiled...it was instant and amazing."

"This isn't a musical," Benji was trying to be realistic but it wasn't breaking through his roommate's cloud of happiness, "You can't just sing to a prince and make him fall in love with you."

"Why not?" Jesse gushed, feeling so light-headed that he thought he could pass out any moment, "People fall in love every day. Why not that day? Why not this one?"

"I give up," Benji tossed his hand up in a gesture of surrender, "He seems nice."

"I think he is," the brunette cradled his arm back to his chest, lashes fluttering as he thought of how the older boy had held his arm still, "Even if he's not, I don't think I care."

"Way better than Bumper," Benji grumbled, eyes back on his Facebook.

"You want me to smother him while I'm here?" Jesse asked, "Cause I will."

"No, it's okay, I understand," Benji half-lied, "I come off...wrong, sometimes."

"Doesn't mean you're any less amazing," Jesse promised, sitting up, "You know who else is amazing?"

Benji cracked a real smile, "I can guess."

"He's got this hair," Jesse seemed to drown in remembrance, "And these eyes – and this smile. I've only seen it once, but – ugh."

Benji just nodded along until he realized what he'd said, "Did you just reference Aladdin?"

"It's appropriate, don't you think?"

"More like racist."

Jesse got the text to meet the Trebles at the frat house that evening. He'd spent way too long picking out his outfit and had made Benji promise to have fun while he was gone. It took longer to find it in the growing darkness of the campus but his nerves fueled him forward. He spotted Donald on the steps, hands in his pockets like he was waiting for him.

Jesse picked up speed, his smile nearly cracking his face as he started to greet the beat box. Something as pulled over his head from behind, a sack that blocked his vision. It wasn't pulled tight but it was tugged enough to make him stop walking. He flailed, the person who'd put a bag over his head grabbed both his arms and lead him forward. His tennis shoes caught on pavement and he practically stubbed it on the steps leading up to the door.

He heard Donald whisper relax and he did.

He wasn't sure where he was being led but he knew it was inside by the rush of air conditioner the way carpet dragged beneath his steps. He was passed off to someone else with a tighter grip and positioned somewhere with open space, shoulders bumping against his own as someone was shoved beside him. Whoever was behind him pulled away but their fingers lingered, trailing down across the curve of his ass. He arched away from it, but didn't lash out for fear it was Donald.

"Don't be so jumpy," he knew that voice.

Not Donald.

There was a long pause and some shifting before someone spoke again, farther away.

"Well, well, well," fucking Bumper, "We are in Treble."

His hood was pulled off and he blinked into the light, the Trebles lined up in front of him.

"Classic pun," Donald commented, holding out his fist for a bump that their leader returned.

"I know."

Jesse turned to see Kolio standing beside him, looking flustered. Benji should've been there, he could almost feel his roommate's absence in the room. Like something was missing. Fresh drinks were passed around the Trebles wove through them, high-fiving and bro-hugging as they introduced themselves. Greg, Hat ("Seriously? Is it the hat? Knew it."), Brian, Michael, Unicycle ("Oh, I get it, because of the bike. Do you take it everywhere?"), and Steven. They all seemed pretty cool and he already knew some of them from Benji's rants. They were pretty excited to have new members, it was enough to get wrapped up in it and forget why he was there.

He had just convinced Kolio to go over and talk to Unicycle ("Nah, man, he probably already thinks I'm stupid for staring at him.") when he felt eyes laying on him. He rolled his shoulders and tried to shake it off, taking another drink from his cup as gaze strayed from Kolio's meager attempt at flirting to tastier pastures. Caramel-colored, talented pastures. Donald was standing by a small table that had their new Treblemaker gear on it but he seemed to be talking in-depth to Greg, gesturing in a way that seemed to imply a stage. Probably about their last performance. His deduction skills were kind of busy trying to figure out what color Donald's lips were.

"I'm Bumper," the leader eased up beside him, "We didn't really meet earlier."

"I know," Jesse stated absently.

"You know, I run all this," Bumper boasted, swirling the alcohol in his cup, "I get the final say in who goes where during performances."

Is it burgundy? No, that's too purple.

"A guy like you seems like he'd want to be in the spotlight."

Maybe it's toffee. Toffee's a great color, Jesse made a frustrated noise, Now I'm just making myself hungry.

"I can get you there."

Hungry for a piece of that ass, Jesse smirked to himself, Better not say that out loud though, little too soon. I bet he'd laugh. Made me laugh.

"If you're nice, that is."

"Yeah, uh-huh," Jesse patted the other man's shoulder blade, watching Greg walk away from their beat box. This was his opportunity, he just had to be smooth and move in.

"But you've gotta-"

"Yeah, man, that's cool. We'll work something out," Jesse handed his cup off to him, "Thanks again for giving me a chance."

He left Bumper behind, rushing over to Donald before someone else took the spot. He didn't seen their leader crush his cup, nor the worried looks Unicycle and Hat shot him.

"There you are," Donald patted a stack of clothes on the table, "I've got two jackets, two shirts, and the signature underwear."

Jesse's jaw dropped, "No!"

"Yes!" Donald plucked up the briefs and showed them off, Treblemaker printed across the ass.

"Those aren't underwear, those are panties," Jesse chuckled, taking them and testing the stretch, "I don't think I can fit in these."

Donald let out a low whistle, "Lucky man."

Jesse took up the jacket next, sliding it on and zipping it partway up his stomach. He held out his hands, turning from side to side to show it off.

"How does it look?"

"Good," Donald admitted, reaching up and running the tips of his fingers just under the hood to straighten out the material, "Real good, actually. I told B you were Treblemaker material."

"Red's my color," Jesse informed him, trying not to follow the touch when he pulled his hand back.

"Nope, blue," Donald made a face at how easily he blurted that out.

"Blue?"

"Blue," the beat box confirmed.

Jesse felt a shiver dance across his arms, "You noticed."

"Nope, not even a little."

"You did," he batted his lashes, "It goes with my eyes."

"You know what really goes great with your eyes?" Donald put out there, "Modesty."

They shared a brief laugh.

Jesse had that feeling again between his shoulders, "What's up with Bumper?"

"Hm?" Donald looked over the younger man's shoulder, finding his best friend watching them, "Ignore him. He's weird."

Jesse kind of peeked around to make sure it was the leader staring, "Yeah, I can tell."

The ravenette was quick to change the subject, "Ready for the party?"

Jesse perked up, "Party?"

Oh, and what a party it was.

The Treblemakers had all split up the moment they arrived, fanning out and checking out the ladies and booze available. Bumper and Donald stood together, as usual, drinking and observing the hoard of their a capella piers.

"I'm just saying, who would be easier to sleep with: Captain America or a great white shark?" Donald proposed. It was an old argument of theirs. They were at the point where they could write papers about it. Like always, Bumper took up his stance.

"The shark, duh."

"What about an Amish man or a squid?"

"Squid."

"Giant squid?"

"Eh, Amish man," Bumper amended, glancing over at him, "See? This is nice."

Donald hummed while taking a drink, "I think they dumped too much grapefruit in it."

The older boy rolled his eyes, "Really?"

"Yeah, man, but that's the risk of Jungle Juice," he swirled the colored drink around, wrinkling up his nose a bit at it, "You take it cup by cup, roll with it."

"You missed this, admit it," Bumper urged.

"Nah," Donald feigned ignorance, "Pretty sure I got like half the fruit in here."

The brunette gave a little growl of frustration, "You're not even listening, are you?"

"Always, Bumper," contempt seeped into his voice, "I'm always listening to you and you are always talking. That's the problem."

"Donny-"

"You want a metaphor to understand? Here," Donald came around until he was standing in front of him, brandishing his cup pointedly, "You are this juice. I. Loathe. This juice. I don't hate everything about it, I just really fucking hate grapefruit and it ruins the entire thing. But look at me, still drinking. You know why?"

Bumper shook his head.

"Because it's easier than going to get another one. It's just less of a hardship for me to stand here and fucking listen, alright?" Donald was starting to lose his temper, he reined it in before he continued, "If I listen to you, you eventually shut up or say something worth listening to. That's why I'm still drinking, because sometimes there's a good cup. Get it?"

Bumper nodded slowly, "So...am I the grapefruit or the drink or the cup?"

"You're such a – a - " Donald took a quick drink, "A blockhead."

Bumper let out a startled laugh, "Wow. That's the best you got?"

"I'm tired of using fuck, alright?" he sighed under his breath, "I really know how to pick 'em."

Bumper waggled his eyebrows at him, getting a faint smile, "See? I make you laugh. We're perfect."

"As best friends," Donald corrected lightly.

"As anything, really."

"False," Donald stated around a mouthful of dregs, starting toward the steps, "I'm going to get more. You want one?"

"Yeah," Bumper spotted Jesse coming through the stone benches toward him while Donald had his back turned, the two just missing each other, "Thanks babe, love you, you're amazing."

Donald ignored him completely, if anything his pace quickened down the stairs. Jesse looked between them as he got closer, a little drunk and more than confused by the words.

"Uh, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," but Jesse didn't sound convinced, the beat box's cold shoulder keeping his doubt going, "I wanted to thank you again."

"No need, you deserve it," Bumper leaned back and grabbed one of the drinks out of a passing Unicycle's hands, "This fresh?"

"Dude, I just got that," the other Treble griped.

"Good," Bumper handed it off to the younger man, "Here you go, freshman. A drink! To the Trebles!"

Jesse shrugged and started on it, wincing but chugging it for as long as Bumper did. The leader faked finishing off his drink, watching the younger man take down the whole cup with a sour face.

"You're very on-and-off, you know that?" Jesse braced himself on one of the stone benches, one eye clenched shut and voice wrecked from the potent juice, "You're either really friendly or a total butthead."

The leader scoffed, "Butthead?"

"Yeah, sorry, can't really think straight," he gestured at his head, "That stuff went straight up here."

Bumper sucked it up and slapped a smile on his face, "I get that a lot. But I'm a good guy, anyone will tell you."

Donald came back with two drinks, a worried line across his forehead, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Bumper laughed good-naturedly, taking the drink and passing it to Jesse, "Here, since yours is empty."

"Thanks, I guess," Jesse raised the cup to his lips, "Drink, drink, drink until this isn't awkward anymore."

Donald gave Bumper a hard look before hooking the freshman in the crook of the elbow, leading him away. They passed by several small groups of people until they found their own space, enough distance to put them both at ease.

"Sorry about that," Donald started but the boy swayed into him, he had to settle him against a bench, "Wow, you're drunk."

"No, man, no," Jesse denied, rocking on his feet, "The world's just a little crooked. Maybe ten degrees off. No big deal, I'll just hold on 'till it decides to straighten up. What's your major?"

"You really wanna have this discussion right now?"

"I want to have every discussion all the time," Jesse swore, "Tell me."

Donald could taste he lengthy response before he let it out, "I'm going to graduate with a major in Electronic Production and Design and a minor in Music Production and Engineering."

He waited for the usual blank look or sigh of exasperation but it never came. Jesse's eyes just got real wide and he leaned harder on the cement.

"Wow, you're impressive," if anyone else had said it he would swear it was sarcasm but the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, "I can see it. You seem like you'd be on the technical side of music."

The freshman just kept surprising him, "What about you?"

"I'm starting out in Composition but the moment I find a school that has a Film Scoring specialty degree, I'm transferring or commuting," Jesse replied automatically, so at ease with his answer that he barely thought about it, "But I can only do one thing with those. Yours are so broad, you're going to be able to find a job in any major city."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Jesse defended, "My dad's an audio engineer and they're always looking for good mixers. I bet you're amazing at it."

"I-" Donald snapped his mouth shut. No one had really said that before. The few people he'd shared his music with were either unimpressed or more interested in his dick. It was his raw, live stuff they usually liked. Maybe Jesse would-

"If I get something together, would you want to check it out?" Donald offered on a whim. Before he could regret the words and hurry to shoot down his claim, the boy started nodding so fast he made himself dizzy.

"I would love that," Jesse said once everything stopped spinning.

"Cool," he took a long drink to get some composure back, "So your dad's in the industry a bit. You two close?"

"Yeah, actually, pretty healthy childhood," Jesse tossed his empty cup behind him without looking, "They're only a day trip away. They didn't want me to come this far but Bardon

offered me a sweet ride. How far away from home are you?"

"Pretty far," Donald confessed, "My mom's some super important consultant in Jacksonville. They moved there after I graduated high school and I've only seen them a handful of times since then."

Jesse frowned, "That's awful."

"We Skype and text all the time, Mom calls every Friday to ask how my week went," he drank to drown out the self-pity, "She makes up for it by sending me an allowance, it's pretty nice. My dad mingles in the bar scene, he likes to open clubs and see how long they last before they burn out. Clubs have a high turn-over ratio, like, worse than nursing students. It's insane."

Jesse's sympathetic look was making him itch, "Stop it or I'll punch you.

The brunette shook it off, swallowing down all the reassurances sitting on his tongue, "What's your girlfriend think of you hanging out with a bunch of aca-nerds on a Friday night?"

It was easy to flirt, flirting he could do, "She'd totally be okay with it if I had one."

"Boyfriend?"

"Nope."

"Most guys would get angry at that question," Jesse noted slyly.

"I'm not most guys," Donald's lips quirked up, "I like to think I'm very equal-opportunity."

"Good to know," he could almost feel the other man's fingers on his wrist again, "How'd you find out what dorm I'm in, anyway?"

"I asked," he replied around the rim of his cup.

"Who?"

"People."

"So you have an underground homeless network?" Jesse questioned with a sound of amusement, "Like Sherlock?"

"Less homeless, more my friends."

That struck something in him, "Do you have a lot of friends?"

He could see what the boy was getting at, "I do."

"Sexy friends?" his 'casual' came off more 'snoopy'.

"I like sexy friends," Donald's eyes dropped to the glimmer of his drink, he couldn't quite bring himself to look into that trusting face, "Sexy friends don't want a lot from you."

Jesse's pink mouth tugged down hard at the thought of this brilliant boy sleeping around, "You're a big sharer?"

"More like a big taker."

Everything felt much too serious. The moment hung over them, perturbing and heavy. Jesse leaned on the stone enough to keep his balance as he pushed his leg out, running his calf along the other boy's.

"You seem cool to me," he admitted softly, barely heard over the music.

The lights caught in his drink rather prettily, "If I'm anything, it's cool."

Jesse chewed on the side of his cheek, "Come dance with me?"

Donald finally looked up, "That's not a good idea."

"You sure?" Jesse tisked in disbelief, "Because I'm pretty sure you and me all close is the best idea I've ever heard."

Donald finally smiled full enough to show off his laugh lines, "You're not as smooth as you think you are, Kansas."

"You know what I think?" Jesse pushed off and resettled his hands on either side of the ravenette's hips, bracing against the bench to lean into his personal space without falling, "I think that we need more drinks because my casual flirting is so not working on you right now."

"You call this casual?" he contended, "Because it's coming off a little aggressive."

"Hmmm," Jesse hummed thoughtfully, cocking his head to one side like he was considering the idea, "Like edgy-bad-boy-aggressive?"

He shook his head, "More like untrained-puppy-aggressive."

Jesse dropped his head and pushed back, but when he looked up he was smiling again, "More drinks."

"Fetch, boy."

They had drifted a bit between one drink and the next. They'd found a backless stone bench and plopped down on it, legs crossed beneath them, sitting face to face as they talked. Their knees were threatening to brush but they didn't care, too wrapped up in one another to worry about how it looked.

"Is it a mammal?"

"No."

"A reptile?"

"No."

"A bird?"

"Nope."

"Is it a fish of some kind?"

"Technically, yes."

"Oh my God," Jesse buried his face in his hands, "I've forgotten every underwater animal I've ever heard of. You could have a gun to my head and I wouldn't be able to name even one thing that breathes water. Is it a lobster?"

Donald shook his head.

"A shrimp?"

"Dude-"

"A crab? An octopus? A scallop?"

Donald laughed behind the plane of his hand, "Now you're just naming shit."

"Cheating is the only way I can win this game."

"You're so bad at it."

"I know."

"Then why did you suggest playing?"

Jesse looked up at him from under his lashes, "Because it meant listening to you talk."

"Oh, wow, I haven't had enough to drink for this," Donald finished off his cup.

"Are you kidding me?" Jesse tried to man up his giggle but it didn't work, "It took this much booze just to get that out."

"You should really keep that shit in your head," the beat box watched a friend of his come up, he slapped hands with him, "What's up, man?"

After a few minute, his friend walked away with a promise to text him later. Donald turned to face Jesse again, the freshman was looking at him like he was giving a sermon or something.

"Your ears stick out," Jesse stated, tapping his own, "Did you know that? It's really cute."

Donald dropped his cup in his haste to cover his ears, palms shielding them from view, "What?"

"They're all curved out," Jesse pried the other man's hands off the side of his head, smile growing, "You're even cuter all self-conscious. I didn't mean it in a bad way."

Donald glared and batted his hands away, "You said my ears stick out! How am I supposed to take it?"

"Donald!" Jesse outright laughed, still keeping the older boy's hands away from his ears, "You're freakishly handsome and I'm afraid I'm going to pass out like a screaming fangirl the first time I see you perform. There isn't an inch of you you should feel insecure about."

Donald felt something snap in the air. Maybe it was the tension, maybe it was his control, or maybe someone broke something nearby. Whatever it was made his world narrow down to big chocolate eyes and they way they laid on him almost worshipfully.

"You wanna find a quieter place?" Donald slurred as he tried to sound smooth. The freshman looked startled by the suddenness of it but he quickly got over it enough to nod. Donald grabbed his hand and dragged him off the bench, leading him once more. Jesse was pliant in his hold, letting himself be guided past the other a capella groups to the outskirts of the stadium. The music faded out as they hit a cluster of trees, branches low and full to block out a lot of the light.

"Oh, wait, are we doing sexy things?" Jesse gaped, "Does that mean my flirting worked? Oh, man, I can't wait to tell Benji. Oof."

He was pushed up against a thick trunk, bark threatening to nip at his skin through his shirt. He was about to make a quip about manhandling when Donald pressed up against him, impossibly warm in the cool of the night.

"I'm breathing your air," Jesse awed, alcohol shredding his filters, "You smell good. Like a new brief case or our guest couch."

"It's Dana's English Leather, you like it?" Donald grabbed him by the hips, brushing their cheeks in his haste to get a taste of the brunette's neck.

" 'S nice," Jesse groaned, hanging onto the other's shoulders as his knees threatened to give out. He practically melted against the tree as sure teeth nipped and marked up his throat, sending sparks of heat down through his chest to settle low in his groin. Everything was so good and hazy, blending together as he drowned in the ravenette's cologne. A thigh worked between his legs and that was even better, it gave him something to grind against and get some dizzying friction.

Jesse blindly sought out a kiss but his lips only met with the other's rough jaw or ear but he didn't mind. It wasn't weird, they were necking. It was normal, it was fine. He settled for pushing against him as rhythmically as he could manage, hands getting with the program and feeling out the muscles in Donald's back. His fingers settled an urge he'd had for a while by burying within that perfectly done hair, mussing it up and discovering its texture.

"Damn soft, knew it would be," Jesse was getting increasingly breathless as his jacket was tugged open and his shirt was rucked up, "Feels good."

"God, you're mouthy," Donald complained against his pulse point, clumsily working on the freshman's belt buckle, "But you're so fucking pretty."

Jesse made a happy sound and got a hard bite for his effort, the pain nearly making him forget those words, "Don."

Donald finally managed to tear open the freshman's fly and his hand slid down past it, catching under elastic and past too-hot flesh until he found what he was looking for.

"Oh," Donald exhaled sharply against the boy's neck, lust coiling up like a fist in his gut. Jesse was the perfect size, thick enough to fill his palm and his mouth. Cut, hard, and eager by the sounds the freshman emitted. Jesse moaned into his hair, rocking into his hand from just the first stroke. It was a sweet sound that left him wanting more.

"Can't wait to get this inside me," Donald spilled truthfully. He didn't usually talk during sex, at least no more than it took to get his partner in the mood, but if felt so comfortable with the younger man. The way Jesse hissed in a breath at his words made him want to tell him everything. From the way he wanted that pink mouth on his cock to the way he wanted to get up on his lap and find out just how long he could ride him until he screamed.

Donald was just contemplating getting on his knees when Jesse started lightly pawing at his hand, glazed eyes searching for his own.

"Mmm, wait, no," Jesse moaned in loss as the solid touch left his aching cock, "That sounds amazing and mind-blowing and if you say something like that again I'm going to lose it, but - "

Donald nipped below his ear and made his neck arch, trying to get him to get to the point or shut up.

"I don't want our first time to be while we're both drunk," Jesse hummed into his hair, the leather scent even stronger there, "I want to remember it."

The sentimentality of the statement turned the welcome weight of lust into a cold fist, sapping his desire faster than Bumper's arrogance. He grabbed two handfuls of the freshman's shirt and pushed away, a strong wave of tenderness and exasperation suffocating any remnants of passion until it was unsalvageable.

"God damn it," he cursed, leaving him against the tree and heading away from the stadium.

"Wait, Don?" Jesse whined, suddenly chilled against the bark.

"Go home, Jesse!" Donald barked over his shoulder, "Just fucking go home."

A haggard Jesus, I should've known drifted behind him, and then he was gone.

Jesse stood there panting, a dozen fuzzy thoughts running through his head as he tried to figure out what he'd done. The joyless departure killed his buzz and left him hollow, like Donald had taken more than his dignity with him.

A faint laugh yanked him out of his thoughts.

Bumper was leaning against a nearby tree with a smirk on his face, half-hidden by shadow. His pleased grin was a slash of white in the darkness. Jesse realized just how exposed he was and fumbled to zip up his fly and buckle back up, sniffing hard as he tried to bite back any pathetic exclamation like leave me alone or take a fucking picture. He was quick to push down his shirt to hide the reddening score streaks across his stomach, marks he would've been proud of a few hours ago.

Marks that would only remind him of rejection later on.


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