A/N: So here's a story I started and played around with for a long time before I started posting it. It is still in progress, but (as I normally do) I have the ending written already. I swear it will get there at some point.

There wasn't room for much of a summary up front, so bear with me for just a second. The whole story idea came about with two things: wondering how Joey and Pacey would've handled their relationship differently if they didn't end things for Dawson's retarded sake in the ep "The Longest Day"; and secondly, the idea of a secret relationship in the song The Secret's in the Telling by Dashboard Confessional. I recommend YouTubing it because it's amazing, but I'm going to post the lyrics at the end anyway. So after I took off with those two ideas, it kind of made season 4 a weird mix of AU and my own twisted reality. Basically, disregard anything you know until it's mentioned again. Anything after mid-s4 is totally gone. I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: In case anyone actually cares anymore, I don't own Dawson's Creek or any of the music I use. I'm sure Kevin Williamson really misses the extra $0.50 in royalties suing me might possibly earn him.

Act of Defiance

They say there is a code. The code is complicated; the code is unwritten and secret. The code must not be broken under any circumstances. Allegiance is simply a silent agreement, a pact between friends. The code is not made for trivial friendships or acquaintances and cannot be taken lightly.

There are many codes that fall under this definition in varying degrees. Every day of our lives we are bound by codes of behavior. All of these codes are social manners of commonly accepted conduct, but the code I'm referring to goes deeper than that. The code I'm referring to involves blood brothers. The code I'm referring to is not as vague as the man's code or a code of intimacy. It's an odd combination of the two, a code followed in a friendship that is lifelong and meaningful and deep.

Dawson and I became blood brothers when we were a mere eight years old. Something about cutting our palms with a knife seemed enticing and far exceeded any health warnings that had been passed down after a rash of hepatitis cases at our school. It occurred to me many years later to question why grade school children, even just the one who started it, would have hepatitis to pass around in the first place. However, being among the least judgmental in my own social circle, I never voiced it out loud. My eight year old mind paid little attention to the warnings, even the one in writing that was sent home from the school for our parents to sign.

In becoming blood brothers, we made an agreement with each other to follow the code. The intricacies and exactly how complicated it would all become later never entered into our minds. I'm not sure we were aware of the code's existence at that time. I still couldn't say how it became life-affirming and life-defining.

It's safe to say that the code has become steadily more complicated as we've grown up. It's been reserved for only the most serious topics. The code does not include items like the fact that I've been welcome to raid the Leery fridge at my own discretion since our bloodbath that fateful summer afternoon. It doesn't include permanent standing invitations to Friday night sleepovers, nor does it include unlimited tolerance for seeing full-priced new releases bearing the hallowed name of a certain Hollywood director. Apparently, his name is so holy I'm not allowed to speak it after questioning the revisionist nature of the Jurassic Park screenplay.

But no, the code only includes things that mostly will not be revealed here. The main topic of the code has been part of both our lives since well before a time we can remember. Although it was largely the three of us in the friendship, there were no girls allowed at the fort and no girls involved in codes or bloody antics. We used the excuse that Joey was too squeamish to participate. It was a lame excuse at best. Joey was the girl who has punched both of us so many times that at least one of us had a broken nose at any given time throughout every summer of our childhood. As a result, she has seen enough bloody noses to last a lifetime. Joey was also the girl who always found the biggest frogs, was the first to swing into the moss-covered pools of unknown content (and then it should be noted, picked on Dawson so mercilessly he would run home crying when he wouldn't make the leap), and the first to stomach whatever ungodly "food" she'd come up with that anyone would try for a quarter. The girl made Fear Factor look like a gourmet delicatessen.

No, Joey never factored into the code until the summer we were thirteen. That would also be the first summer she had anything resembling breasts for those keeping track at home.

Not that there was an issue with it. At first, the code cleanly stated that she was the third brother in our misfit family, and as such was above any sort of sexual harassment from either of us. The code stated this was incest and would not be tolerated.

The code changed when we were fifteen because it took Dawson approximately two years to notice the breasts. Well, those and everything that came with them.

I hear thick-soled sandals thumping on the worn wood of the dock and look over. It takes my eyes a brief moment to adjust to the light of streetlamp. I smile during the adjustment because I know just who is wearing those thick-soled sandals.

Joey smiles back down at me. "What are you doing all the way out here by yourself?"

"I have a hot date." I say simply as she pulls up a plank next to me.

"Well, I wonder what she'll think when she sees me sitting here."

"That's debatable. But she's way hotter than you, so you should probably hit the road, don't you think?" I look over my shoulder to verify this dock and the area are in fact, deserted as she lowers her voice.

"Is that any way to treat your covert girlfriend?"

"You haven't used the password yet. How do I know you aren't going to rip off your plastic face to reveal the face of my sworn enemy?"

A sly smile sneaks over her face. "I guess it's a chance you'll just have to take."

"Where did everyone else go?"

"Well, the party kind of died after you left," she says simply. "Dawson went home alone because no one else was really interested in reliving the latest disaster that he rented, Jen had to check in with the Grams by eleven, and Andie was so tired that Jack agreed to drive her home and tuck her in."

"And you?"

"I have to get up early to do my paper route tomorrow," she said innocently.

"I can't believe they're still buying that excuse. It's been almost a year and they don't know you've never had one."

Her grin grows slightly evil. "I can't believe they're still buying the excuse that you've taken a vow of celibacy," she says and wriggles a little closer.

I chuckle. "I don't think I told you that Mitch commented on the improvement in my school performance. He attributes it to the celibacy." I snap my finger and point at her. "Oh, and Jen is very pleased that I've started thinking with my more northern regions."

"If only they knew," she says, moving closer. I close my eyes and inhale her warmth and the soft scent that is indescribable and uniquely hers. I instinctively tilt my head down and kiss her. By now, her kiss is achingly familiar and warm.

We made an agreement to keep the kissing a secret. Really, we made an agreement to keep all of it a secret, well over a year ago. The potential of disastrous fallout was just a little too much for us to bear at the time. Joey had so recently sent her father back to prison and had been very hurt by Dawson's sanctimony in the process. I was trying to put things together after Andie had been institutionalized and come home just in time to start the ball rolling on a long and painful breakup—followed by the timely re-demise of the relationship between my father and me… we just decided to take the more selfish course of action. We acted on our baser impulses and kept those actions secret from everyone we know. Of course we've discussed going public, but it would so easily explain some of the thinly veiled excuses we've used that a quick retrospective would give more information than we want to divulge.

That, and there's the code.

See, there's another code that could be mentioned. The code I was speaking of before refers to the friendship that Dawson and I have. This other code is the code of exes that is now shared between Joey and Dawson. Not only is dating the girl your best friend lusts for taboo, it turns out that dating your ex-boyfriend's best friend is, too. Apparently, circle dating is not accepted in any circle of long-standing friendships.

The unfortunate thing is I think I bore these feelings for her long before Dawson and I hit fifteen years of age and he realized that Joey is a girl. I loved her before she discovered makeup, blow-dryers, or short skirts. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for at least the last one on that list. The code gave me the short end of the stick. It's the code's fault that I may potentially end up choosing between Dawson and Joey, that I can't just have them both in my life. But it's completely my fault he dated her first, thereby enacting the code clause that I've cursed every day since then.

She pulls away, although it is hesitant. She rests her hand on my chest. "What's wrong?"

I lean back on my hands and assess her face openly. Her lips are slightly swollen and her cheeks are flushed. Our make-out session may have been slightly more heated than normal, which is saying a lot, due to lack of available time lately in the wake of graduation. Saying I feel badly for derailing our limited physical contact is an understatement. "I'm just thinking about the code."

She sighs and tucks her hair behind her ears. "Have you given any more thought to Boston?"

I close my eyes and I know the agony of indecision is written all over my face.

"It would be so much easier for us there," she says softly. "You know Jen and Jack aren't going to be angry with us. Dawson will be all the way in California by then. We won't have to tell him. And even if he finds out, we'll be far from the prying eyes of this small town. Maybe all that will make this whole process smoother for everyone."

I look over at her. "But what if there's some crew jock who charms you and Worthington and you drop me like I'm hot? I mean, let's face it…"

She rolls her eyes. "That isn't going to happen. Do you know how happy I would be to go out with my boyfriend and be able to hold his hand without fear of recrimination? Do you know what a relief it would be for Bessie to finally lay off my lack of romantic entanglement?"

"I know. She takes up a good chunk of my time with that same conversation. So do Doug and Gretchen, and that's a side of the story you don't have to deal with." I look over at her.

"Do you really feel like we should tell? We were 50/50 on keeping a secret before. Are you trying to tell me that the scales have tipped?"

She lets out a long breath and gives that quirky little half smile. "No. You know how I feel about making any sort of decision. I'm just thinking it might be nice to go public so we can, you know…"

"Be public?" I supply.

"Exactly, and if you come to Boston with me then we can be public and you can punch any of the crew jocks that hit on me."

"Really?" I ask, and raise my eyebrows hopefully.

"No, not really! When have I ever tolerated physical violence that could result in assault charges and/or jail time?"

"I just feel like we're all growing apart anyway. If Dawson reacts badly to it—" she cuts herself off due to my skeptical, eyebrows-raised glance—" Well, then it won't really matter because he'll be on the other side of the country and we'll still have each other. You're more important to me than he is now, Pace."

"Really?" I repeat with a different tone than moments before.

"Of course you are. How do you not know that by now?"

I break into a wide smile. "It's just so good to hear you say it every once in a while, Potter. And it's even better when you back your words up."

She pushes me hard enough that I nearly fall over. I can see the look in her eyes, and I could see that look in her eyes for the rest of my life. Every time my reaction will be the same. She knows what she did, what she always does to me; her cheeks regain some of the flush from moments ago as a retort dies on her lips.

Just in time for us to hear the whoop from Doug's cruiser. I roll my eyes and sit up more fully as she backs away just enough that our distance is 'friendly' as opposed to 'overly-friendly'.

"Well, well, well…" Doug says, his boots tapping out an evenly metered rhythm on the worn wood planks. "I believe I witnessed some assault there, Miss Potter. What do you have to say for yourself?" He smiles and glances between us. "Please, don't tell me you were rehearsing for the school play, since that run ended over a month ago."

I try hard not to chuckle as he recalls one of our better excuses. He caught us by walking into the apartment just as we kissed on my makeshift bed (A.K.A the living room couch). Luckily enough, the play script happened to be open just next to us. Even better, it happened to be open to the kissing scene in the play. He seemed skeptical, but it was apparently too solid for him to attempt an argument.

"No, he was being an ass," she said simply. "He made a comment about my cleavage in this shirt."

Joey knows her audience well. Doug appears embarrassed to continue with her and redirects his line of questioning. He turns to me. "Why were you commenting on that aspect of a person you've told me more than once is like your sister?"

"I believe my exact words were 'nothing like' my sister." I look over. "Besides, look at her. How could I not comment on her rack?"

Joey proceeds to hit me again on the upper arm. I pull away and rub the spot gingerly. I've previously mentioned all the reasons she isn't like a girl—I really ought to add her punching ability to that list.

Doug has grown completely uncomfortable with this situation. "Your little road trip is going to feel a lot longer than two weeks if you don't learn how to shut your mouth, Pacey."

"Apparently," I agree, shooting Joey the evil eye. She grins slyly. We're leaving, the whole group of us, for a road trip across country in three days. Basically, the goal is to drop Dawson off at USC for the summer film program, and then for the rest of us to return in one piece. Mitch and Gale have graciously agreed to loan us a large enough vehicle, complete with the small U-Haul trailer on the back for Dawson's belongings. They are then flying out to California to get him settled. "You'd think she would have learned to accept my disgusting personality by now."

"You'd think you would just learn to keep comments to yourself so you didn't get your butt kicked by a girl," she mocks sweetly, tipping her head to the side.

I echo her mocking glance back at her. "Hush up, or you'll get the butt-kicking you deserve."

Doug sighs tiredly. "I really just came over to tell you that I left some dinner in the fridge and it's all yours. I picked up the whole shift tonight, so…"

"You're working a graveyard on your first day off in a month?" I ask in amazement. I look covertly at Joey. I know what Joey is thinking.

"Yeah," he says rather sullenly.

"So you don't get home until…"

"Oh-nine-hundred," he confirms.

"That sucks," I say. The small child in me wants to add for you, but the mature eighteen year old does not say it out loud.

"Yeah, well… it also pays for groceries and gym memberships," he points out.

"And decoupage?" I add innocently.

"Oh, I made a mistake. I am way too tired to deal with you," Doug says on a sigh. I give him my most innocent grin. "Please stay out of trouble tonight, Pacey. I really don't want to arrest my younger brother again."

"Damn. I was really hoping to spend another night in the slammer." I look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Good night, Pacey."

"Good night, Dougie." I say to his already-retreating form.

Joey turned to me squarely. "Maybe we could start with telling Doug. Do you think he would appreciate finding us cuddled up in bed together when he gets home?"

I groan, feeling her question sink immediately south. With that tone of voice, that was the effect she was going for anyway. "I doubt it; especially considering the only bed in the house is his. But you don't want to sleep on pink satin sheets any more than I do."

She frowns as she looks over at me. "His sheets are pink?"

"I don't know, I haven't checked. But I wouldn't be surprised."

"Does he have more than one set of sheets in the house?"

I raise my eyebrow at her, my blood audibly pumping through my veins now. "Well, there's only one way to find out, now isn't there?"

She gives me a more devious version of her half smile. "Let me just make up something to tell Bessie and I'll meet you there?"

"Deal," I agree. She leans in to "kiss on it" as has been our tradition when making these parting bargains.

Joey hurriedly buttons my shirt up to cover her nudity as I frantically search around for something to wear. "Thanks for taking my only shirt, by the way." I hiss sarcastically, finding a pair of Doug's Capeside PD sweatpants folded neatly on top of his hamper. At this point, I'm not even going to question it. I'm not going to try and find my underwear, because let's face it – they were gone a long time ago. I glance over at Joey in the loud print button-down shirt. It hangs loosely on her, the sleeves sinking down well past her elbows because her shoulders are slender and slightly hunched. The bottom of the shirt hits her mid-thigh. I'm slightly distracted in staring at her legs.

"Pacey," she hisses in panic as another rap sounds on the door.

I smile and kiss her firmly as she pushes me out of Doug's room. "You look totally hot," I say, feeling my erection come back to life after it was so rudely interrupted.

"No time!" She says simply, allowing the door to click closed. I allow myself one deep breath as I approach the front door. Unfortunately, it's Dawson. He looks at me strangely.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

I look down over myself. There is no acceptable explanation for wearing Doug's slightly unclean sweatpants. After lying to everyone I know for this long, I should be able to come up with something. "I was just getting into the shower," I substitute. There it is.

"I'm sorry. I can go if you need… is that a hickey?"

I raise my hand to the spot on my chest he's staring at. "Bruise," I say simply, completely bypassing the fact that he's looking at my naked chest. "What brings you by?"

"Well…" he begins and pushes past me. He takes a seat on the couch. For a moment, I'm vaguely grateful that we were testing Doug's bed out. "I wanted to ask you what you know about Joey these days."

I frown, feeling my stomach sink further than is biologically possible. "Why?"

"Well, she cut out early tonight saying she had her paper route in the morning, but she isn't at home now. Have you seen her?"

I look around. "I don't see her now. Do you?" I ask. It isn't often I can get away with that kind of deceit. I really shouldn't press my luck. Dawson throws himself on the couch.

"Do you know if she's seeing anyone?"

"Why would I know?" I ask indignantly. "I'm nothing more to her than a charity case screaming for semi-weekly tutorials so I could make it through that social rite known as graduation. Word has it I'm on my own now."

"I think you're more to her than a charity case," he says. "But not a confidante? She hasn't said anything to you?"

"No."

He sighs and swings his arms out so he's in full recline against the back of the couch. He pulls one hand to his mouth. "I was thinking about doing something, and I want to ask your opinion."

I sit in the La-Z-Boy located perpendicular to the couch and lean in with a slight scowl. "Like what?"

"Well, I know that Joey and have been broken up for a very long time. Over two years, in fact. But the thing is that I don't think we've ever really been over. It's like we just put it in storage for a while until it's time to come out. I'm wondering if now might be that time."

My heartbeat at least triples. I'm sure Joey is listening from the other room, and I'm sure she has the same reaction. "Why would it be that time right before you guys settle in on opposite coasts?"

"Well, I was thinking a promise ring or something along those lines might be the security she needs to go off to Worthington and live her life but not get swept away by a promise any of those other boys might make. I want her to remember that she always has me to come back to, and even though she's out living her life now, I think that might be where she's headed."

"Isn't a promise ring, like, a step below getting engaged?"

"Yeah." Dawson admits.

"And you really think you're ready to take that kind of step in your life? We're eighteen, man." I say skeptically. I sit back in my chair, knowing that my words really contradict how I feel. If she and I weren't 100 per cent a secret, if there was any sort of comfort in a future we might have, it might think about it more. At the same time, I have real difficulty understanding where he's coming from. They aren't even in anything remotely resembling a relationship.

"Well, it was always meant to be Joey for me, wasn't it? If not her, who would it be?"

"I'm not questioning anything about how great Joey is. I'm just saying that right before you both head off to college may not be the time to make such a life-altering promise." I clear my throat and try to slip a glance toward Doug's bedroom door. I don't need to see her face, though. I can imagine the look on it. And the look is something resembling pure panic, a look that says I should do whatever I can to get her out of this. "If it's meant to be, it'll work out, right? Why would you want to tie her down and limit her experience more?"

He sighs. "I don't know. I just feel like… like the longer we go without any acknowledgement of what she and I really are to each other, the longer we're both just wandering."

"I think that's the point of youth."

"Okay, Pacey-Wan-Kenobi."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "Seriously? I don't know if I've ever realized you're that big of a film geek."

"You're just waxing all wise about Joey when five minutes ago you told me you didn't have the slightest clue. What's the deal with that?"

"The deal with that is that I'm speculating. Joey may not be your typical eighteen year old, what with the fact that's she's been an adult since the age of 12, but I don't know that she's prepared to accept what basically amounts to a proposal from you."

Dawson sighs. "Well, I have to at least find her and tell her how I feel. I don't think I'll be able to sleep without telling her. I don't know what happened. It was like a switch flipped when she left tonight."

I can feel myself deflate a little. "Well, then all I can do is wish you luck. I'll send her your way if I see her, but it's highly unlikely. You should just check back at the B&B tomorrow. My guess would be around noon, because if she isn't there now, she'll be sleeping after she's done with her paper route."

Dawson takes the hint of dismissal in my tone and stands. "Okay, thanks."

I nod, but I escape without eye contact, all the way through to the door. As I close the door, he looks at me with a smirk. "And I'm really glad that isn't a hickey. The celibacy oath has done wonders for your performance in school."

I smirk back and wish him a good night in a rather half-hearted tone. I shut the door and walk back to Doug's room slowly, arriving just in time to see her replacing the pillows on the remade bed. She's fully dressed in her own clothing, and she's even placed my underwear on the nightstand for me.

"So…" I say upon entrance. I don't want to scare her. Well, at least this time I don't want to.

"So…" she echoes, blowing out a long breath. She turns to sit on the bed and pats the spot next to her. "What am I supposed to say to that?" She looks over at me honestly.

"I'm going with 'no'. But I guess it depends a whole lot on what you want to say."

She takes a moment before she speaks, and pulls her bare foot up on the bed so she can hug her leg closer and rest her chin on it. "Do you remember when Dawson insisted on taking me to prom and he brought those earrings that were his mother's?"

"Yeah," I say slowly. Of course I remember. Dawson had recalled the long-ago musings of insecure high school freshmen who swore they would go to junior prom together if there weren't other options available to them, just so they could have the experience of going. Joey had been unable to invoke our relationship as a reason not to attend, so she went. And I sat at the same table with Andie as my date, and watched Dawson trying to get under Joey's skin all night. It was a long and brutal evening.

"Do you remember when we were able to sneak that dance outside, how you said those earrings weren't me because they were too showy and fancy?"

I look at her pointedly. That wasn't the only thing I told her that night. In fact, in the second-boldest declaration I've ever made to her, I told her I remembered everything. "Yes," I say, playing along and watching her carefully.

"Well, I think it's the same thing with a promise ring. I'm not really a promise ring kind of girl. At least, I don't think I am. I guess there's a whole lot to be said about the source offering such a thing, but on the whole, I'm not comfortable promising anything like that to Dawson."

"It's a big deal, accepting a ring of any kind from someone," I say slowly. "It's a lifelong sort of deal, which seems even larger when you're only eighteen."

She reaches over and rests a hand on my shoulder. "A lifetime doesn't seem so long in other circumstances, Pacey."

"Like what ones?" I push, knowing it's a bold question and it will most likely get me into trouble. The first morning after we'd had sex, I had told her I could do the sweetness and sarcasm for the rest of our lives. And she had backed away slightly with her jaw open in terror. She had told me then that a lifetime seemed like eternity to her and she was in no way prepared to see that far into the future.

She looks away and shrugs her shoulder. "Like maybe these ones right here," she mumbles so softly that I'm not sure I hear her correctly.

"You mean between me and you?" I say, speaking the harder part for her. She finally meets my prodding gaze.

"Yes," she confirms. Not actually having to say the words tends to make a huge difference for her. After this bit of sweetness, though, the sarcasm naturally follows. "You know, unless we want to continue keeping it a secret and all."

I take both of her hands in mine and pull her toward me. "We can tell whenever you want. The way I see it? Two weeks in a car is going to be torture either way. It just depends on which kind."

She smiles a little. "Well, it's good to know I have that kind of effect on you."

"You always have and you always will," I say simply.

"That's good to know, too." She snuggles into my arms. I knew as soon as Dawson literally entered the picture that our wild night of debauchery was finished. But I can handle the waking up next to her, too.

The signal is subtle we pass just close enough to touch

No questions, no answers

We know by now to say enough

With only simple words, with only subtle turns

The things we feel alone for one another

There is a secret that we keep

I won't sleep if you won't sleep

Because tonight may be the last chance we'll be given

We are compelled to do what we must do

We are compelled to do what we have been forbidden

So I won't sleep if you won't sleep tonight

Our act of defiance

We keep this secret in our blood

No paper or letters

We pass just close enough to touch

We love in secret names

We hide in our veins

The things that keep us bound to one another

There is a secret that we keep

I won't sleep if you won't sleep

Because tonight may be the last chance we'll be given

We are compelled to do what we must do

We are compelled to do what we have been forbidden

Until the last resilient hope frozen deep within my lungs

And this broken fate has claimed me and my memory for its own

Your name is pounding through my veins

Can't you hear how it is sung?

And I can taste you in my mouth

While the words escape my lungs

And I whisper only once…

There is a secret that we keep

I won't sleep if you won't sleep

Because tonight may be the last chance we'll be given

We are compelled to do what we have to

We are compelled to do what we have been forbidden

Because you will be somebody's girl

And you will keep each other warm

But tonight I am feeling the cold

(The Secret's in the Telling)—Dashboard Confessional