Hola, my fellow molivers. This is my first multi-chapter fic in a long, long time, which is why it may blow a little. But hopefully not as much as loliver.

So I've considered writing a Miley/Oliver affair fic for a while. 'Cuz, you know, canon is a butt, and Miley and Oliver are hot. I just never really got around to it because... I felt (feel) guilty. I mean, I love, love, love Lilly in general, and I don't like making her character helpless and/or miserable. That being said, this was difficult for me to write... among other reasons.

All I can say is, it is going to get very, very dark and emo (more specifically, after chapter two). So please keep that in mind.

There is sexual content. Nothing too overly graphic. I think the descriptions are turned down enough for it to just be rated 'M'.

So, reader's discretion is advised!

As for the length, I have it planned as a three-shot with an epilogue as of now. It might become four parts, with an epilogue instead, depending on whether I decide to spread out all the major events or not.

Okay, enough of my ambiguous rambling, let's get down to business. Please do heed the warnings before reading each chapter (never really needed that section before...).

All warnings pertain to the chapter posted, not the story overall.

Ah, and I apologize if this is in the least bit suckish. I'm still trying to shake off my writer's rust.

Oh, and lastly, this goes out to all of my fellow moliver fans who are equally scarred by the events on the show–most especially those who keep reading the stuff I write (that convince me that it's actually good. I love you all quite dearly! xD).

Genres: drama, romance, angst, eventual tragedy, (there are some comic relief moments in there as well)
Warnings: swearing, sexual content, mature themes and concepts
Disclaimer: Lyrics used belong to Innerpartysystem. Go listen to them. They are awesome and are really very nice boys. Oh, and up yours Disney! Yeah, clearly Miles and Ollie don't belong to me. Otherwise the show would probably be on late night HBO...

To Be With You

You know I love you, but you might be the death of me...

The lights, the crowd, the chanting of her alias' name over and over again–the energy the packed grand stadium radiated pulsed through her as she walked the length of the stage, microphone in hand, belting her heart out with every note.

Luckily, it had been the end of the song when her eyes wandered over the spectators right by the catwalk. She was certain she would've frozen up and wrecked the song had she spotted him beforehand. She did a double take, not exactly sure of the man's identity the first time. But that smile, that knowing smile, and the way his arms were crossed–he looked so smug and sure of himself the minute she'd found him, that she knew it had to be him.

In that moment, time seemed to freeze. The cheerful chanting and screams surrounding her became muted, the camera flashes and stage lights fading. There was only him. And no one else. Her heart beat a little faster, palms sweating so that she had to grapple the microphone with two hands. Her lips upturned into a radiant smile, that which he could only bring about.

Months ago, she would've never reacted to his presence this way.

But things had changed.

It was raining hard outside.

Thunder was rolling.

Lightning was clapping.

And he was kissing her.

His hands were all over her, smoothing down the already taut fabric of her tight clothes, legs tangled in hers, his wet clothing soaking into her dry attire.

His lips were all over her, softly nipping at whatever skin was closest.

He was all over her.

And she didn't care.

She didn't care that he'd belonged to someone else.

She didn't care that that someone else was her best friend.

She didn't care that it was him of all people doing this to her.

He'd arrived at her apartment door earlier, drenched from the rain, mouth twisted into a heavy frown, going on about how Lilly was sleeping at her mother's again, how everyday had become a struggle between them ever since he'd gotten an important job at the record label, how she'd throw a bitch fit when he worked late hours and whenever he'd leave socks lying around the apartment.

She'd listened, rubbed the bridge of her nose and quietly made coffee as he relayed his domestic woes.

It was always the same.

Both would complain about each other to her, then make up immediately afterwards. No petty argument could ever permanently sever her best friends' relationship.

She'd deemed such a fact both a blessing and a curse throughout the years.

As such visits had become routine, her ears only perked up when he'd uttered words he'd rarely ever spoken in relation to Lillian Truscott.

"I'm not happy anymore," he'd said, head in his hands, fingers pulling at the wet locks.

She brought her mug to her lips and took a sip, watching him from the kitchen. She said nothing.

"I can't… I can't…" he continued, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I don't know what to do."

She nudged the coffee mug against the side of his head and he took it, a weary look on his face.

It was a delicate situation. All she could do was listen–she sure as hell wasn't going to be the reason they broke up. Seating herself on the arm of the sofa, she watched him sip the coffee, still looking extremely troubled.

"It's like I can't have both–I can't have her and the job. But this job… it might just be the best thing that's ever happened to me," he said, voice trailing off into a whisper. His eyes were distant, thumb stroking the mug's handle.

She sighed and ruffled his hair fondly.

"You'll figure somethin' out."

He shook his head and looked up at her, eyes big and almost pleading, voice coming out in a quiet whisper, that which was drowned by the sound of the thunder outside.

"What do I do…? Tell me what to do."

Her brows rose slightly. She'd never seen Oliver so troubled or needy in her entire life.

"I… don't know. I couldn't answer that for you… Honestly, I don't know what I'd do myself…Then again, I never really had an option," she trailed off.

He breathed out heavily, running a hand through his hair.

"But what I do know is… you've gotta decide what you love more at the end of the day. Lilly… or your job."

She took another sip of coffee, watching as he put his mug down on the coffee table.

"I'd have to be quite the asshole to choose my job over her…"

"Not necessarily. I always choose the job."

He looked at her curiously.

She shrugged.

"Music is my life. It's everything I've got when I've got nothing. Granted, I've never had 'nothing', but I wouldn't have anything if I didn't have it. Music, I mean."

He turned away to hide the grin that'd sprouted on his face.

"I don't think my mind is complex enough to process that."

"Well, you know what I mean."

She took another sip.

"You've gotta think – is music your life? Do you really want it to be? Or," she continued, "are you ready for Lilly to become your life?"

The room grew very still after that. Oliver cracked his knuckles, Miley sipped her coffee, and the rain continued to pour.

Bored, and already predicting Oliver's obvious answer ("No. I love her, we've been together forever, and I'm ready to be with her forever… Miley, do you know Lilly's ring size?"), she sat, drumming her fingers against her knee, drinking her coffee in silence.

'Any minute now.'

"No," he started, deep voice cracking the silence. Here it came.

She steeled herself, several images of the future racing through her mind.

Her being the maid of honor at her best friends' wedding.

A pregnant Lilly–Lilly with a sports utility vehicle and a "Soccer Mom" bumper sticker on the back.

Sporty, musical brats with Lilly's eyes and Oliver's hair that would run up to her with kisses and muddy hands, screaming "Aunt Miley!" with bright smiles.

Oliver in a suit and tie, coming home from his office job to park in the driveway of his and Lilly's beautiful suburban home–Oliver staring at his small guitar collection, remembering what could've been and what he gave up; all for the blonde that was putting his children through soccer drills on the perfectly green sod in the backyard.

And finally… her, Miley Stewart, standing there, all alone, for good this time, watching Lilly and Oliver Oken live happily ever after.

Goosebumps prickled her skin, a shiver running up her spine as she awaited his answer. A feeling of loneliness washed over her, and she felt a little sick to her stomach at such thoughts–felt jealous, most of all. She shook her head, attempting to clear it of her predictions, but she could not.

Her fingers curled tightly around the handle of the coffee mug as she listened to him let out another heavy breath.

The lights flickered.

"I couldn't give up what I loved the most for her… I've already come this far. And if I have to even choose between her and the job in the first place–if I have to give up my dream for her just 'cuz it's tough on her… then… then, I don't think we have a future together."

Frozen.

She was frozen, blown away, blindsided, completely caught off guard.

He stood, grumbling, beginning to pace.

And she remained in place.

The lights flickered again.

"Everything is… everything is just–it was never this hard before. It was perfect before–so much easier… but I shouldn't… shouldn't have to choose…"

She had taken to staring at nothing in particular, still frozen, grip on the coffee cup going slack.

"I mean…"

Oliver stopped and turned around, looking at her intently, eyes pleading once again.

"… Miles, am I wrong?"

Her head swung up at the mention of her nickname, her eyes catching his.

Just then, the lights flickered once more before completely giving out.

The whole apartment was submerged in darkness.

Lightning clapped, and she caught a glimpse of him. He was still staring at her. The moonlight was scant but strong enough to shape their silhouettes.

She finally stood to grab a match and light a candle–then she felt his fingers, tight around her wrist. She dropped the coffee mug in shock, and it landed on the rug with a thud.

"Well that's gonna leave a stain…" she mumbled to herself before she felt him squeeze her wrist.

"Is it wrong to choose something you're passionate about? Is it wrong to put yourself first before whatever everyone else wants? Is that selfish?" he asked, voice a gentle whisper, though his grip was firm.

"Oliver…" she shook her head. "Living out your dreams in spite of what others want… that's not being selfish. That's called living."

Thunder boomed, and she jumped, feeling Oliver's grip grow gentle. When it slowed to a rumble, her eyes darted forward, feeling his hands on her face. He drew closer, eyes shining in the moonlight that just peaked into the apartment. She flinched, her eyes wandering anywhere else but to his. She found herself unable to move–glued to the floor, breathing with difficulty.

"Why..." he started. He licked his lips, looking at her hard, as if he was trying to find her in the darkness. "… why are you the only one who gets me?"

Her eyes snapped back to his in an instant. She was suddenly fearful of where the conversation was going–suddenly very aware of his hands on her face.

"Oliver…" she begun, as if she was tiredly chastising a child for a repeated wrongdoing. "… Don't."

Her hand rose, fingers on his wrist, gently tugging it away. She felt the warmth of his hand leave her skin.

She felt both loss and relief.

The panic grew once again, when the next thing she felt was his breath on her mouth.

"Wh–!"

He pushed his mouth against hers, lips soft and meshing perfectly with hers. She stood still, wide eyed, staring into his bangs.

She only fully registered what was happening when she felt his tongue probe gently at her lips. Eyes widening further, she pushed him back roughly, bringing the back of her hand to her mouth, wiping away as though her lips had made contact with something disgusting and diseased.

She suddenly felt very, very cold.

"W–what the hell was that?!" she yelled, voice coming out hoarse. She saw his crouched figure in the darkness. His hand was in his hair again.

"I–I don't know! God, I don't know... I…" he stood, shaking his head, brow furrowed. She shook her head too, roughly, like she was trying to shake something out of her hair. "I'm sorry… I really am… I'm just so… confused… frustrated…"

He pushed his bangs back with his palm, dropping onto the arm of the sofa.

She strode over to him still reeling from the shock. She lifted a shaking hand to his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, trying to forget what happened.

"It's alright. It's normal to have doubt. But that's how life goes. Things will be fine–you and Lilly will work it all out. You love Lilly. She loves you. You'll work something out. You love her. It'll be alright. Things will go back to the way they were and everything will be alright… you love her. It'll be alright," she repeated.

She seemed to be convincing herself more than him.

He stared at the floor, hand dropping to his lap. His head turned, eyes locking onto hers.

Her lips tingled and she swallowed, grip on his shoulder loosening.

"Do you really want that?"

"Want what?"

"Things to go back to the way they were… do you want that?"

"Yes," she managed. Forcing such a little word out of her throat suddenly seemed so hard. "You're… great together. Stayed together this long–it's pretty much safe to say it's m–meant to be."

"You really think so?"

His eyes were searching and curious, as though he was just humoring her, not buying a word of what she was saying.

She swallowed, hoping she wasn't completely transparent.

His hand rose to hers, fingers gently skimming her skin as he held it gently. A jolt ran up her spine–her toes curled, free hand fisting as she fought the need to shake her head from the chill.

"Y–yes."

His eyes were getting real close.

"Yeah?" he whispered.

She felt his breath on her mouth again.

She didn't panic.

"Mmhmm…"

His lips brushed hers again, so gently that it drove her mad. Her eyes screwed tight resisting the urge to pull him hard towards her. She backed away, wanting to back very far away–perhaps far enough to hit the window and fall out for being such a terrible best friend. But she didn't get very far at all. Her head only rose a few inches away from his before he raised a hand to stop her, one on her back, the other on her hair, stroking the wavy locks gently.

"It's okay… it's okay," he whispered in assurance, staring into her eyes.

Maybe he was convincing himself too.

'It's not okay,' she wanted to say.

Because it wasn't.

"I can't…" was all she could peep out.

He kissed her again, halting the words falling from her mouth. He kissed her lips again and again, softly, gently and sweetly every time.

"Stop," she murmured in between kisses. "Stop…"

He didn't.

She didn't either.

He only placed his hands on either side of her face once again, bringing her down closer.

His tongue nipped at her closed lips for the second time that night.

She let him in.

There was no turning back now.

The kiss became desperate and fierce–she crawled onto him, pressing him hard against the couch. He dipped his hand into the waistband of her shorts, mouth on her neck, suckling the flesh there. She gasped, eyes screwed closed, arching against him, biting hard into her bottom lip.

'Miley, stop…'

She ground her hips harder against his hand, sinking deeper onto his fingers, pulling his shirt over his head.

'Stop this.'

He drew his fingers from her, a whimper escaping her lips as she watched him lick his fingers clean, the most devious look in his eyes.

'Stop.'

He stripped her quickly, destroying her bra in the process. She was too far gone to stop just to scold him.

'Stop–have you no shame?'

He let out a strangled moan, as he thrust forward. Biting her lip hard, she rolled her hips against his, fighting the urge to groan out his name–doing so would only remind her of the guilt she should have been feeling.

The guilt she should have been feeling.

'Stop, stop, stop, stop,' her mind screamed.

He only pounded into her harder and harder, faster, driving her to madness.

'What have you done?'

His mouth covered hers, muting her scream. A dull grunt emitted from the back of his throat as he pushed into her with his last strength–it reverberated against her tongue as her nails dug into his back.

'Miley, what have you done?'

His chin rested in the crook of her shoulder, breath hot on her neck as both gasped for air.

'You're going to burn for this.'

Somewhere between him, herself, the skin and the sweat, she found that she no longer cared.

She sat before the vanity, staring at herself in the mirror.

'Homewrecker.'

For three months long.

She'd been drowning in guilt, for three months long.

"Hey."

He'd been kissing away her guilt for three months long.

She smiled at his reflection in the mirror, her heart pounding hard in her chest.

"Yo," she replied, pulling her fingerless glove off.

"Nice show."

"Why didn't you come as Mike? You could've watched from backstage."

"Meh, I just wanted to appreciate you with the common folk like I used to."

They were talking through their reflections in the mirror.

She brought her eyes away from his figure and began to take off her jewelry, avoiding his gaze.

"I forgot you'd be stopping by while I was here," he said, now pacing the dressing room.

"Ah, yes. How goes the producing? You're taking care of that 'Featherheavy' band I hear?"

"Yes, yes. Very hopeful young men," he smiled. "It's going alright." He picked up one of her rings and turned it around in his fingers. "The job has its perks. Since I've got some sweet connections now, I was able to get my hands on some nice last minute tickets for your show."

She nodded, an impressed look on her face as she pulled her earrings off.

"Look at who's got da hookups now," she grinned.

He walked back over to the mirror and smiled down at her reflection.

"I always had you for that."

"I suppose your current 'hookups' are less adorable," she said, placing the earrings on the vanity top.

"Of course."

"You should've called."

"I wanted to surprise you."

"You didn't have to come… I'm only on the tour for another week."

He brought his hand down to her face, moving it so that she would look at him.

"It's been a while… I wanted to see you."

The words reached his eyes as he stared down into hers.

She teetered on the line between being touched and feeling used.

They never really talked much when they saw each other. It was always down to business with them.

Not that she really minded. She didn't want to have to go through the emotional crap with him. Talking about their situation would only remind her of how wrong it all was and how she should've never let it happen in the first place.

Indeed, he'd been kissing away her guilt for three months long.

'More like senselessly fucking away my guilt for three months long.'

She shuddered as the words crossed her mind. They were vulgar, but the plain truth.

"See me, huh?" she said with a slight laugh, turning back to the mirror and sliding out of his hand, continuing to pull the rest of her accessories off. She was bangle-heavy tonight.

"Yeah. Thought maybe we could grab a bite to eat or something," he said, pulling something out from the inside of his blazer.

It was a chocolate bar. He peeled it open and began to munch.

"Your concerts make me hungry," he said, mouth stuffed.

She laughed and turned in her chair.

"Eat? Just eat?"

"Yes. Unless you had something else in mind."

He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she twisted her face into a look of mock disgust.

"Joining you in the consummation of food should be enough, thanks," she snorted, pulling the last of her bracelets off.

She suddenly felt his breath on her temple. It reeked of chocolate.

"Alright then," he cooed, voice seductive. "Let's get out of here, Hannah… or should I say…"

He ripped the wig right off of her head with a victorious "aha!"

"Girl-with-wig-cap-on-whose-real-name-doesn't-start-with-an-'H'!" He turned the wig over in his hands. "… can't believe I ever thought this was real," he mumbled, shaking it before his eyes, staring at it in wonder.

"Oh stop that. You're such a child," she snapped. He looked down and began to giggle. "What?"

"Loving the wig-cap. It's a good look for you."

She glared at him, snatching the wig from his hands.

"I have to wear this until I get to the limo… the paparazzi will be waiting as usual. So go find a stupid looking hat and put some armpit hair on your chin as usual," she said, fitting the wig back on her head.

"I make that armpit hair look sexy," he muttered as he left to search the rest of the dressing room. "I'll go find me a cowboy hat and a fake moustache. Don't you keep those packed just in case daddy decides to drop in?"

She dug into the bag by her vanity and threw him a small sandwich bag with what appeared to be a fake moustache in it.

"I was just kidding… but this is strangely convenient."

"Yup. You can probably find a cowboy hat in props – and change your shirt. There's probably a plaid button down somewhere around here."

"Okay, I'm off to play dress up then. I'll need a new identity," he said, striding over to her and placing the moustache on his upper lip. "I'll be Daryl, your gay besst friend from Tah-nah-ssee-heeee," he said with a strangely convincing gay lisp, staring at his reflection and snapping his fingers while resting a hand on his hip.

"I actually already have a homosexual best friend. His name is Oliver," she laughed.

"Yeah, but he ain't from Tennessee, hon-ay," he grinned down at her. "Be right back," he said, turning towards the door. She began to gather her things, when she felt his hand on her face once again. He turned her head and planted a soft kiss on her lips, the fake moustache tickling her nose.

He then stood straight, and walked out the door.

Miley stared at the floor for a moment, then brought her head back up to the mirror.

She was smiling like a fool. She touched her fingers to her lips and reveled in the already familiar, but very much missed, sensation. She didn't know why she was so giddy–he'd kissed her that way several times before.

As she changed into more comfortable attire, she realized it was the first time he'd kissed her without intention. The first time he'd kissed her just to kiss her. Their first casual, completely innocent kiss.

Italicized thoughts are Miley's. I hope you liked psuedo-homosexual Oliver. And, you know. Everything else xD