Disclaimer: I don't own the Breakfast Club.
Summary: On the night before he leaves for college, Andy runs into Claire at a party, and the two find that they have more to say to one another now than they had before. One-shot.
Rating: M for language and sexual content. Please do not read the story if this offends you.
A/N: This story is actually way more about Andy than anything else, if that helps you make the decision about whether or not you want to read it. I hope everyone enjoys it.
6/1/07: Made minor content/typo edits and additions.

Somewhere in Between

Andy reached around to grab the back collar of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it onto the floor next to him. He ran a hand through his hair and walked over to the edge of his bed, where his largest bag of luggage was propped open. After a bit of digging, he found a red polo shirt and closed the bag without zipping it up.

"You going out?"

Andy glanced up to see his older brother Grant standing in the doorway, hand gripping the doorjamb. Grant was home for a week to see his little brother off to college. He'd graduated from Ohio State in May, and he'd just accepted a position at an accounting firm in Cleveland. The plan was to see Andy off at the airport tomorrow, then catch his own flight back to Columbus to finish packing up his apartment.

"Yeah." Andy tugged the polo shirt over his head and smoothed it out over his stomach. "Jacob's having a party tonight."

"Last big hurrah?"

Andy nodded. "Something like that."

Grant paused, pursing his lips together thoughtfully. "Wasn't Jacob the one that broke the living room window when you guys were playing catch in the backyard?"

Andy turned to frown at him. "That was five years ago, Grant."

Grant smiled and shrugged. "Guess I've got a good memory."

Andy rolled his eyes. "What's the score on the game?"

"Tied up 2-2 at the bottom of the sixth. Braves are at bat."

"Oh." Andy sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed his sneakers off of the floor. He pulled them on one by one and tied the laces as tightly as his blood circulation would allow. When he was finished, he stood to find Grant watching him from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. There was a piece of blonde hair, lighter than Andy's, sticking up on the back of his head.

"What?" Andy asked irritably. He hated it when Grant looked at him like that, as if he knew something Andy didn't. Grant was the observant one, and Andy always felt like he knew everything that Andy was thinking without even having to ask. There was comfort in knowing that there was someone out there that knew you better than you probably knew yourself, but sometimes Andy just wanted Grant to stop being so smart and let him have his secrets.

Grant shrugged. "Nothing."

Andy glared at him. "Don't get all Mom on me and talk about how fast I've grown up."

Grant lifted his eyebrows teasingly. "But you have, Andy. You're not a boy anymore. You're a man—"

"Shut up."

Grant smiled and pushed off from the doorjamb, taking a step towards Andy. "Here." He reached forward to adjust Andy's collar, which was tucked under on one side. Andy shrugged off the touch and reached up to adjust it himself.

"Got it," he said shortly, irritated without really knowing why. Grant nodded and stepped back. Andy grabbed his letter jacket from his desk chair and slung it on, not bothering to button it up.

"It's really humid outside."

Andy shrugged. "It might get colder." Unlikely, but he didn't care. It was the last night that he would be able to wear his high school letter jacket, and he wanted to make the most of it. He would get a new one when he got to California, but for now he was still a Shermer Bulldog. Just a few more hours and he would put it away.

Suddenly, Andy heard someone honking outside of his house. Dan. "That's my ride."

Grant stepped out of the way to let him pass. "Well, have fun."

Andy nodded. "Thanks."

"And don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Andy smirked. "I thought you said to have fun."

Grant gave him a less-than-gentle shove out the door.

Andy and Dan were two of the last people to arrive at the party, which wasn't so much a party as a casual get together. All graduated seniors, and few junior and sophomore girlfriends that were about to be left behind, maybe forever. Andy weaved in and out among the throngs of people – some of whom tossed out greetings along the way – and made his way to the kitchen, where Jacob was opening up a bag of chips.

Jacob Winston was Andy's best friend, and had been for just about as long as Andy could remember. Back in middle school, they played baseball together; Andy, quick on his feet, was shortstop, and Jacob, with his good arm, played at third. Even when both of them quit the team in high school and Andy took up wrestling, they stuck together. They made a good team.

"There you are. I was about to call over to your house," said Jacob, wiping his hands on the front of his shirt, which was already stained with some kind of liquid, probably beer.

"Dan was late picking me up."

"Big surprise there. Get a beer. They're in the coolers behind the table."

Andy did as he was told and grabbed a can of Budweiser from the first cooler he reached. "So, what did you do today? I called earlier, but no one picked up."

Jacob tossed another chip into his mouth and leaned against the counter. "I went to dinner with Catherine and her parents. They wanted to take me out before I left."

Andy nodded. Catherine was Jacob's ex-girlfriend, but they'd only broken up because they were going to separate schools on opposite sides of the country and they figured that it was best to end it now instead of stay miserable and wait for the inevitable. But Andy knew that it was hard for both of them and that they were spending as much time together as they possibly could before Jacob left next weekend. Andy was also pretty sure, without Jacob saying for sure, that they were still doing just about everything a boyfriend and girlfriend did together, only without the official title.

"Where is Catherine anyway? Is she here?"

Jacob shook his head and swallowed a mouthful of chips. "No, she's at Jill's," he replied, referring to Catherine's best friend. "Jill leaves tomorrow."

"Oh."

"What about you? What did you do today?"

Andy shrugged and took a long swig of beer. "Just finished packing mostly. Watched the beginning of the game."

Jacob nodded and popped another chip into his mouth. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, just watched the party go on around them. Andy finished his first beer without even realizing what he was doing and went over to grab another from the cooler. He was about to shut it again when someone reached forward to catch it.

"Andy?"

Andy glanced up to see that Claire Standish was standing right next to him. She looked a little bit different than the last time he'd seen her, which was at graduation. Her hair was longer, brushing the tops of her shoulders, and she was wearing a pale blue button-down shirt with black trousers. As usual, she was probably the best dressed person in the building.

"Oh, hey, Claire." Andy blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust to the sight. "How are you?"

Claire shrugged. "Pretty good. I just got back from Florida. I spent the summer with my aunt."

"Oh." Andy nodded. "That sounds like fun."

"What about you? What did you do this summer?"

"Uh…" He shook his head. "Nothing really. I was working at the hardware store to earn some extra money, but that's about it."

Claire nodded politely, and an awkward silence fell over them. Andy had always found it tedious and slightly embarrassing to talk to people he hadn't seen in a long time. He always had to ask what they were doing, and they had to ask the same thing, because that was the polite thing to do and you had to be polite. At least, that was what his mom had always taught him, but she had grown up in the South, and they were sticklers about that kind of thing.

"Well…" said Claire.

"Andrew…Clark!"

Andy glanced up quickly to see that Dan was standing in the middle of the kitchen wearing a Darth Vader mask and cape. He was clutching a glowing plastic light saber in both hands, holding it in a combat stance. Jacob was standing next to him laughing, but everyone else was just staring at him.

"Andrew…Clark…" he boomed, the mask distorting his voice so that it sounded like Vader's. "Your presence is required in the game room for a round of darts."

Andy rolled his eyes. "Is that right?"

"Yes. It will be a game of life and death. If you lose, you will die."

Andy sighed and looked back at Claire. "Sorry, I have to…"

Claire laughed. "It's fine. I'll see you later."

Andy nodded and turned back to Dan, who was now threatening Jacob with the light saber. He turned back to look at Andy, giving the saber a little twirl for good measure. "And Andrew?"

Andy glared at him. "What?"

"Can you grab me a beer? Because I can't see a fucking thing with this mask on."

"Nineteen! Just one more and we win!"

"Oh, fuck you, dude. You can't even see the damn board anymore. That was a lucky shot."

Jason made a face at Frank. "Jealous of my awesome abilities?"

Frank scoffed. "Not quite. Give me the darts."

Jacob, who was sitting on the game room couch between Andy and Dan, laughed. "We need two more fifteens, man. Get a double."

"Yeah, no problem, I'll just go ahead and do that," muttered Frank, grabbing the darts out of Jason's hand.

Jacob turned and lifted his eyebrows at Andy, who burst out laughing. The beer was definitely catching up to all of them. The first three rounds of darts had gone by fairly quickly, but the last two were taking forever, probably for the reason that Frank had suggested. Everyone was having a bit of a problem focusing.

Jason plopped down on the leather recliner next to the couch. "Man, I am so out of shape. My new coach is going to rip me a new one when I get there."

Andy nodded sympathetically, but he was the only one. He and Jason were the only two that were definitely going to be playing a sport when they got to college. Dan was hoping to walk on to his school's football team, but everyone else would be focusing on their classes. In theory.

"At least you have a few weeks," Andy pointed out. "The basketball season doesn't start until November."

"No, we start practice the first week of school," said Jason, pushing a lock of long blonde hair away from his forehead. "First week of school," he moaned. "Fuck."

"Oh, boo hoo," said Jacob. "A few hours of practice for a scholarship that pays for almost everything? Spare me."

"It's more than a few hours, dickweed," Jason snapped. "It's hard work."

Andy nudged Jacob softly in the rib, and Jacob bit his lip to keep from laughing. For some reason, Jason was the easiest to get riled up, and instead of making Jacob angry, it always seemed to amuse him. The fact that Jason was so serious about basketball and working out only made it funnier, perhaps because Jacob hadn't played any sports since middle school.

"Shit!" Frank sighed loudly and stepped forward to hand the darts to Dan. "Here."

"It's okay," said Andy. "Next time."

Dan stood up, and Frank collapsed into the loveseat on the other side of the couch. He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his jeans pocket and glanced over at Jacob. "Okay?"

Jacob shrugged lazily. Alcohol always made him tired and almost giddy. "I don't care."

Frank flicked open the lighter and lit the cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Anybody else want one?"

Impulsively, Andy leaned forward. "Yeah, give me one."

Frank stood from his chair and handed Andy a cigarette, lighting it for him before he returned to his seat. Andy put the cigarette to his lips, pulling a long drag of smoke into his lungs. If his coach could see him now, he would probably get a lecture about the various ways that smoking stands in the way of an athlete's ability to perform at his best. Maybe he'd even bring out those slides that show the difference between a healthy lung and a smoker's, or the pictures of the man with a hole in his throat. But Coach Williamson wasn't his coach anymore, and Coach Morales at California State wasn't his coach yet, so Andy took another deep drag and released it into the air.

"Isn't smoking bad for your health, Dr. Pierce?" Jason asked Frank, smirking. "Shouldn't you be discouraging these kinds of activities?"

Frank glared at him and blew a puff of smoke in Jason's direction. Frank was going to the University of Chicago in Champagne-Urbana to study medicine. Both he and his girlfriend Carly were National Merit finalists, and they'd both been offered full rides: tuition, room and board, everything. He didn't leave until next week.

"Not if I don't like them," Frank retorted. "Here, Jason, want one?"

"Hey, does that mean you don't like me?" asked Andy, grinning.

Frank rolled his eyes, but Andy could see that he was fighting back a smile. "Yeah, I fuckin' hate your guts, Clark. That's why I helped you pass Chemistry…and Calculus and Bio and—"

"Give me some credit," Andy protested. "I'm not an idiot."

"Yes, you are," Jacob piped up, earning himself another elbow to the ribs, this one much harder than the last. He squirmed in his seat, and both of them burst out laughing for about the eightieth time that night.

"You two sound like little girls," Jason told them, almost accusingly.

"Twenty," Dan called out, squinting as he prepared to throw his next dart.

"We already closed that one out," said Jason. "We just need another nineteen and we're done."

Dan sighed. "Oh…okay."

"Hey!" Jacob said suddenly, ignoring Jason and Dan completely and turning to look at Andy. "Remember that time we toilet papered Mr. Hanslik's car?" He let out a sharp laugh. "And then he drove it to school the next day with the toilet paper still on it?"

Frank laughed. "What made you think of that?"

Jacob shrugged and took another sip of beer. "I don't know. I was just thinking. You know, about old stuff."

"How many houses do you think we toilet papered?" asked Andy, glancing back and forth between them. "I mean, in all four years of high school?"

Jacob grinned. "Like eighty?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "It was more like ten. Fifteen, max."

Jacob scoffed. "More than that, man."

Frank shook his head. "Let's count 'em," he said, holding out one hand. "There was Mr. Hanslik's car, and then Miss Baker's after she gave Dan an F for his oral research presentation."

"He totally deserved a D," said Jacob, on Dan's behalf. Dan grunted in agreement and handed Jacob the darts.

Frank pushed down a third finger. "And then there was Jeff Harding for being such an asswipe and asking Jennifer to Homecoming before Jason could."

Jason grunted. "Jerk."

"And then Jennifer for accepting."

"Bitch," Jason muttered.

Frank spread out all five fingers. "And Jennifer's best friend Claudia, who called Jason a pig for wrapping Jennifer's house."

"She really was a bitch, though," Andy offered helpfully.

Frank started on his next hand. "And then Jeff and Jennifer's houses again after they toilet papered Jason's. And then Claudia's again, just because she never stopped being a bitch." He peered at both of his outstretched hands. "That's eight."

"Don't forget Matt Lawson," said Jacob.

"What did he do again?" asked Andy, leaning forward to flick his cigarette ash into an ashtray on the coffee table in front of him.

Jacob paused thoughtfully, a tremendous feat under the circumstances. "I don't remember," he said finally.

Frank ticked off another finger. "And then we wrapped Jason's house when he was out of town at the District Finals."

Jason scowled. "I had to clean all that shit up, too."

Andy blew a puff of smoke in Jason's direction. "Hypocrite."

Jason shook his head irritably. "And then there was that stupid kid from the football game. What's his face."

"Ben something," Dan interjected.

"Yeah. The nerd kid. The one that was yelling all that shit at the game about how he hoped we choked." Jason scowled. "What a prick. I wanted to shove his head down the toilet."

"You did shove his head down the toilet," Andy reminded him. "At school on Monday."

Jason grinned smugly and leaned back in his chair. "I did, didn't I?"

"Ben Davis," Jacob said suddenly, pointing a finger into the air for emphasis. "He sat next to me in study hall."

Jason wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Did he talk trash at you while you tried to finish your homework?"

Jacob frowned thoughtfully. "No, he just ignored me." He turned to look at Frank, who was taking a long sip of beer, draining it out. "How many was that?"

Frank glanced up. "What?"

"How many houses was that?"

Frank paused. "I don't know. I stopped keeping track."

Jacob sighed loudly and settled deeper into the sofa. "Franklin, what are we going to do with you?"

"Well, you can start with not calling me Franklin, you stupid drunk."

Jason sat up in his chair and tossed his empty beer can into a nearby garbage can that Jacob had dragged inside from the garage. "Let's go wrap another house. The last one."

"Dude, no," Frank protested, flinging an arm over his eyes to shield himself from all of Jason's terrible ideas. "That does not even sound fun right now."

Jason scowled. "Wimp."

"Dan?" Andy looked up to see Jacob nudging Dan in the ribs. "Dude, you okay?" asked Jacob.

Dan was peering at the bottom of his beer can, possibly trying to figure out if there was anything left inside. He was drunk, as they all were, but Dan was a strange drunk. He was goofy and loud when he was sober, and even louder when he'd had a few. But if he kept drinking, he would hit a certain point when he became thoughtful and mellow, bordering on philosophical.

"You okay, man?" asked Andy, leaning forward to see him better.

Dan nodded slowly without looking up. "Do you think Lauren would do it with me if I asked her really nicely?" he wondered.

Andy burst out laughing, and Frank shook his head. "It's the last night, man. Anything can happen."

"Well, not anything," said Jacob, grinning wickedly.

"Depends on how drunk she is," Frank countered. He was always the smart one.

Dan paused thoughtfully, considering this for a moment. "Yeah," he said finally, as if it all made sense now. "Yeah."

"You know who I wouldn't mind hooking up with is Sandy Wallace," said Jason. "Is she still here? I hear she gives awesome blowjobs. Like, grade-A, top of the line—"

Jacob threw an empty beer can at him. "You've never even talked to her. Ever. Are you that hard up?"

Jason scoffed. "Easy for you to say. You're still fucking your ex-girlfriend."

Jacob frowned. "We're not fucking," he slurred. "We're just…"

"Making love?" Jason offered, batting his eyelashes playfully. "That's so sweet."

Jacob scowled. "Fuck you."

"In fact…" Jason grabbed Jacob's beer can from his lap and stood from his seat. "I'm gonna go find her. I'll come back later and let you know if the rumors were true or not." With that, he tossed the can back at Jacob and left the room.

"We didn't even finish the game!" Jacob shouted after him.

"I guess that means they forfeit," said Andy. "We win."

Jacob turned to Dan, who was still staring at his beer can as if it held all the unknowable truths of the universe. "Are you going to throw up?"

Dan shook his head. "No."

"Cause there's a garbage can right there."

Dan shook his head again. "No." He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the sofa cushion. "Just need sleep."

Frank stood up from his recliner and leaned over Dan's body. "I don't think he's going anywhere tonight. Maybe we should take him upstairs."

Jacob nodded and stood up, taking Dan's other arm. "Come on, man, you can sleep in my bed tonight."

"I'm not a homo," Dan protested, eyes still closed.

"Well, fuck," said Frank. "There goes my fantasy." He tugged Dan up into a sitting position. "Come on, dude."

Andy stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray on the coffee table. "Do you need some help?" he asked, rising to his feet.

Jacob shook his head, and he and Frank pulled him to his feet. "We can just take him upstairs to my room."

Andy nodded and watched them guide Dan out of the room. He was walking alright, but would be in serious danger of falling flat on his face if it weren't for Jacob and Frank's support. "I'm going to get some air in the backyard," he told him.

Jacob waved over his shoulder, and they disappeared into the hallway.

When they were out of sight, Andy took the other door out to the living room, where a couple small groups of people were sitting around talking. There weren't nearly as many people there as there had been before, and he guessed that most of them had moved on to someone else's house or had just given up and gone home. In the corner, Jason was chatting up Sandy Wallace, who looked confused, but not altogether unreceptive.

Andy grabbed a beer from the cooler and walked out into the backyard. It was warmer outside, but kind of nice. He wondered if it was going to be like this all the time in California. He kind of hoped that it would.

"I wondered if you were still here."

Andy looked up to see Claire standing a few feet away, leaning against the patio railing. "I didn't see you for a while," she said, smiling.

"Oh." Andy took a few steps forward until he was standing next to her. "Yeah, we were in the game room."

Claire nodded. "I figured. You and Jacob are good friends, right?"

Andy nodded and cracked open his beer. "Yeah."

Claire reached up to tuck a strand of red hair behind her ear, and Andy took a sip of beer. They were quiet for a moment, neither of them knowing quite what to say. Another awkward moment between two acquaintances. Andy was just about to excuse himself and go back inside when Claire suddenly spoke up.

"So, I heard you got a scholarship to California State." She smiled. "That's really great."

"Oh." Andy nodded. "Yeah, it is." He paused. "Where, um…where are you going to school?"

"I don't know," said Claire. "I'm taking a year off."

Andy lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

Claire nodded. "I'm going to France with my grandmother. She owns a cottage in Provence, and she spends her summers there. But she knows I've always wanted to go, so she offered to take me."

"You've never been?" Somehow Andy figured that Claire had been everywhere. France, Australia, Jamaica. He figured she spent every summer and holiday touring the world. "I figured you would have."

Claire shrugged. "We never really made it there, I guess. But I always felt like I would like it there. You know how some places just feel like they'll be home, even if you've never even been there?"

Andy narrowed his eyes. He'd felt that way about California when he'd first been offered his wrestling scholarship. It was hard to explain to his friends and his parents why he'd chosen a school halfway across the country, but somehow he'd just known it would be a good fit, without really understanding why. "Maybe."

Claire nodded and turned to look out over the backyard. A gentle breeze picked up, and she reached down to adjust her shirt cuffs, which she'd rolled up to accommodate for the humid weather. Andy could already feel the beads of sweat collecting on his lower back, but he didn't remove his jacket.

"So, what are you planning on studying?" asked Claire, turning back to face him.

Andy frowned. His mother had asked him the same question about a million times, but he still didn't have an answer for her. "I don't know," he replied. "I was just going to take some basic classes the first year, and then maybe declare a major next fall."

Claire nodded understandingly. "That makes sense. You probably don't know what you want to do yet anyway. I mean, I know I don't. My mom wants me to go to France so that I can see what French fashions are like, and then maybe I'll want to come back and study fashion design." She made a face. "That was always her dream, though. I like wearing clothes, not making them."

Andy smiled softly. "Yeah, I get that."

Claire nodded. "I figured you would."

Before Andy could reply to that, the back door opened and Jacob leaned outside, squinting into the darkness. "Andy?"

Andy took a step into the light. "Yeah, I'm here."

Jacob stepped out onto the porch, still squinting. When he saw Claire, he blinked a couple of times. "Claire?"

Claire waved. "Hi, Jacob."

"Oh, hey. Sorry. How are you?"

Claire smiled. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Is Dan okay?" Andy asked.

Jacob looked back over at Andy. "Oh, yeah. He's fine. He's upstairs in my room, sleeping. And Frank's pretty tired, so he's going to crash on one of the couches in the game room. Do you want me to drive you home?"

Andy shook his head. "No, I'm okay for now."

Jacob nodded sleepily. "Okay, let me know if you change your mind. And tell me before you leave."

Andy nodded. "I will. Thanks, man."

Jacob waved politely in Claire's direction, then slipped back into the house and shut the door behind him.

"I didn't mean to keep you from your friends," said Claire, glancing from the door back to Andy.

Andy scoffed dismissively. "They're half drunk and about to pass out in the game room."

Claire smiled knowingly. "And you're not?"

Andy glanced down at the beer can in his hand and let out a short chuckle. "Maybe a little. But I'm not going to pass out."

Claire laughed. "Good, because then I might think that I was boring you."

Andy smiled and took another sip of beer. "No, you're not boring me," he told her, and it was true.

Claire smirked and leaned back against the railing. "Because if I am, then I could break out some hand puppets."

Andy nearly choked on his beer. "Oh, God," he moaned. "Mr. Gregory, with—"

"—the voice!" Claire frowned and lowered her voice. "'Well, Mr. Snookums, what should we learn about today?'"

"'How about the American Revolution? Does that sound fun?'" Andy finished. He shook his head in disbelief. "God, that guy was crazy!"

Claire was laughing, shaking her head so hard that a few strands of hair fell from her clip. "I know. He couldn't even answer the class directly. We had to talk to the hand puppet."

Andy let out a little snort and took another sip of beer. "Yeah, I remember that. I just kept hoping that the teachers wouldn't be as weird in high school." He paused, turning to look at her directly. "I forgot that you were in that class."

Claire nodded. "We had English together, too. With Mrs. Jameson."

Andy's eyes widened. "That's right. We sat next to each other!"

Claire grinned, and he was almost positive that she was blushing. "Michelle used to pass me notes in that class telling me how cute she thought you were."

Andy's smile slipped away. "Michelle Manning?"

"Yeah, she'd kill me if I told you, but I guess it doesn't matter anymore." Claire bit her lip. "Sorry, does that freak you out?"

It did kind of, but not in the way that she was probably imagining. Andy remembered having a huge crush on Michelle Manning during his first couple years of high school. Back then he was still kind of short and wiry, but she was tall and beautiful and had already filled out in all the right places. Plus, she had this way of looking at you when she was talking, like you were the only person on the planet and she couldn't imagine herself anywhere else. Even when they were seniors and on the Homecoming Court together, he still felt himself flush all over when she smiled at him.

"No," Andy lied. "That doesn't freak me out."

Claire relaxed a little bit. "Okay, good, because she'd be so embarrassed if she knew I told you."

Andy shook his head, cursing himself for not having the guts to at least tell her how hot she looked in that strapless sequined dress she wore to prom. "No, don't worry."

Claire nodded, and for the next few minutes neither of them said anything. It wasn't as awkward as the time before, though. Andy drank his beer and thought about Michelle Manning, and Claire looked up at the night sky, where you could only see the brightest stars because of their proximity to Chicago and all of the light pollution. Even on the clearest nights, the sky seemed to almost glow, just faintly.

"That's a pretty nice treehouse."

Andy looked up. "What?"

Claire nodded at the huge oak tree in the center of the backyard. "His treehouse is really big."

"Oh, yeah," said Andy, peering into the darkness. He remembered the first time he came over to Jacob's house back in sixth grade. Jacob took him up to the treehouse and showed Andy how he could see into the neighbors' houses with the binoculars he kept in a locked box under the floorboard. When Andy got home that night, he begged his dad to build him a treehouse, without much success.

"We used to hang out up there all the time back in middle school," Andy told her, setting his empty beer can on the wooden railing in front of him. "We read comic books and spied on all the neighbors."

Claire smiled. "That sounds like fun."

"Yeah. I haven't been up there in forever, though." He paused thoughtfully, then turned to face her. "You wanna check it out?"

Claire's eyes widened. "How do we get up there? I can't climb all the way up there."

Andy laughed. "There's a ladder on the side."

Claire hesitated, licking her lips nervously. "Won't he mind?"

Andy glanced back at the door leading into the kitchen. "Um, he's probably already asleep by now. He probably won't even notice."

Claire laughed. "Okay…"

It took them about three tries before they both agreed that Claire's high heels were definitely hindering her progress, and she slipped them off and climbed the ladder barefoot. Andy followed her up, just to make sure that she didn't fall. When they made it up to the top, Claire tossed her shoes through the hole in the floor and hauled herself up with surprising agility.

"Oh, gross," was the first thing she said.

Andy rolled his eyes and grabbed the last rung. "It probably hasn't been cleaned in years. I don't think anyone uses it anymore." He pulled himself up through the hole and plopped down on the floor next to Claire.

"Oh, yeah?" said Claire, standing up slowly and dusting off the back of her pants. "Have those beers been in here since middle school?"

Andy frowned. "Beers?" Moonlight filtered in through all three windows, but he was still having trouble adjusting to the darkness. "Where?"

Claire pointed into the corner to her right, where a medium-sized cooler was propped open to reveal a half dozen cans of Budweiser. The ice inside had all but melted, leaving a slushy mess. Apparently someone had taken the party up to the treehouse and had forgotten to take their beer with them. They had also forgotten to take their used cans, which were scattered all over the floor.

"No, those are new," said Andy, reaching down to close the lid to the cooler before bugs could get in it. He glanced around the tiny room, trying to remember where Jacob kept the lantern. He finally located it in the far corner, buried under a tarp.

"Oh," said Claire, shielding her eyes from the light. It wasn't very bright, but in the small space it was enough. Andy dragged it to the center of the room and swept off a layer of dust.

"So, what did you two do in here?" asked Claire, brushing her fingertips over a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit calendar that was tacked to the wall. The year read 1980.

Andy shrugged. "I don't know. Looked at magazines, listened to music. We played a lot of cards."

Claire nudged a small hand-held radio with the side of her foot. "I always wanted a treehouse when I was little. A pink house with white shutters and lace curtains."

Andy lifted his eyebrows. "And you didn't get it?"

Claire turned and glared at him, but Andy could see that she wasn't angry. "I didn't get everything I wanted."

Andy found that hard to believe, but decided to let it go. He turned and started rummaging through the wooden chest in the corner, where Jacob kept all of his books and magazines. Wrinkled detective novels and water-stained baseball almanacs stacked on top of two year's worth of Sports Illustrated and a couple handfuls of Batman and Green Arrow comics. He knew that there was even a softcore porn magazine at the bottom, but he didn't dig for it.

"Here," said Andy, pulling out a pack of dusty Bicycle playing cards. "Want to play a hand of poker?"

Claire, who was studying the Bill Buckner poster nailed to the wall next to the window, turned to face him. "Poker?"

Andy nodded and pulled the cards out of the box. "Or whatever."

Claire was quiet for a moment, and then her mouth curled into a sly smile. "Know how to play gin rummy?"

"Gin!"

Andy sighed irritably and tossed his cards onto the blanket that Claire had insisted he drag out so that she wouldn't have to sit on the plywood floor. "That's five hands in a row," he whined.

"Six," Claire corrected him, smirking as she gathered the cards together to shuffle.

Andy glared at her and reached into the cooler sitting next to him. "Do you want another one?" he asked, pulling out a can of beer.

"Sure." Claire reached out and accepted the dripping can, wiping it delicately on the blanket beneath her so that it wouldn't drip all over the cards. In the hour that they'd been playing gin rummy, Andy had refrained from drinking, deciding that he would probably end up doing or saying something really stupid if he had any more alcohol in his system. Claire, however, had worked through two cans and was now popping opening her third. Her face was a bit rosier than before, and her laugh a little bit louder, but for the most part she was holding it well.

"Another game?" she asked, arching her eyebrows in challenge.

Andy shook his head firmly and held his hand out for her to give him the cards. "I'm tired of gin rummy. Let's play poker."

Claire let out a sharp, derisive chuckle and handed over the deck. "Looks like someone's not used to losing."

Andy didn't bother to deny it. "Have you ever played poker?"

Claire shook her head. "No. I think I know most of the basics, but I've never played."

Andy shuffled the cards quickly, then dealt them both two cards. "Okay, we're going to play Texas Hold 'Em. Both of us get two cards that we keep face down on the table. The dealer lays down three cards…"

Claire caught on to the rules fairly quickly, even though Andy had to keep reminding her about hand values. They found a tin box of poker chips in Jacob's trunk, and after a few practice hands Andy taught her how to bet. She wasn't very good at the game, but she did have a few decent hands that Andy attributed to beginner's luck above anything else. Overall, she seemed to be enjoying herself.

"Do you play cards very often anymore?" she asked after a fairly uneventful round that culminated in Andy winning the pot with two nines.

Andy shrugged. "Sometimes. Not for money or anything…"

"With your friends?"

Andy finished collecting the cards and started shuffling them. "Yeah, we used to have a poker night once a month during junior year, but then our schedules changed and we got too busy. But sometimes we do…did."

Claire nodded and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. In the treehouse there wasn't much of a breeze, and both of them were sweating up a storm. Andy had removed his letter jacket finally, and Claire had adjusted her hair clip so that some of it was up off of her neck. But the strands kept coming loose, and some of them were pasted to her neck with sweat.

"God, I'm melting," she said, wiping the sweat from her brow with the tips of her fingers.

Andy tossed a card onto the blanket in front of her. "It's really hot," he agreed.

Claire wiped delicately at a bead of sweat on her chin, then took a sip of her beer. "It's not as bad as graduation, though. Why did those robes have to be black?"

Andy laughed and turned over a card in the space between them. "I know. It makes me wish I'd gone commando like Dan."

Claire's eyes widened. "He did that?"

Andy nodded, smiling at the memory. "Completely naked under the robes. I should know, because he flashed me when we were standing in line waiting to go in."

Claire's eyes were still about as big as saucers, but the corners of her mouth were curling into a smile. "I can't believe that! Did Mr. Vernon find out?" Vernon had been in charge of making sure that everyone was in the right place and that no one had smuggled in a tape player or bubble gum or crack.

Andy nodded, grinning too widely by then to stop. "Yeah, Dan flashed him, too!"Claire choked on a sip of beer. "What?"

Andy started laughing. "After the ceremony was over, in the parking lot. Vernon was getting in his car to go home and…" He trailed off, making a motion like he was lifting an imaginary graduation robe. "I thought Vernon was going to run him over with the car. I haven't seen him that angry since…" He paused, and Claire looked up at him. "In a long time," he finished.

Claire opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again and looked down at her cards.

After he'd turned over the fifth and final community card, Andy flipped over his own cards to reveal two jacks, which he combined with the two kings at the center of the blanket. "Two pair," he announced triumphantly.

Claire frowned and turned over her cards: a queen and a ten. "I guess that beats a full house, doesn't it?" she asked, sounding defeated.

Andy sighed. "Shit."

They played poker for about another hour, and then they switched back to gin rummy, at Claire's request. Andy managed to win one hand, finally. They played gin rummy for about an hour before Andy suggested War, which required virtually no skill or concentration, and Claire agreed because they were both so tired that they could hardly sit up straight.

"I can't believe I'm still here," she said, scooping up her winnings from the space between them. "I still have some packing to do."

Andy glanced down at his watch, which read 4:39. "When do you leave?" he asked.

"Tomorrow night."

Andy looked up quickly. "Really?"

Claire nodded as she turned over the top card on her stack. "Yeah, my flight leaves at eight." She glanced up at him. "When do you leave for California?"

"Tomorrow afternoon."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh. I thought maybe you had a couple of days left."

"No, we have our first team meeting on Monday morning."

"Oh," she said again, and he knew what she was thinking. Their last night in Shermer and they were spending it with each other. It was a strange thought, but it didn't feel strange, at least not really. He couldn't really say why.

"War," said Claire, jerking him out of his thoughts and back to the game.

Andy looked down at the cards they'd put down. Two aces, which were equal and therefore required a "war" to decide who got to take them. He laid down three cards, face down, and turned one more over on top. A seven. Claire did the same, then flipped over the last card.

"Darn it," she muttered.

Andy laughed and swept all of the cards – including her three – into a pile. "I'm going to win," he told her, taunting.

Claire made a face at him. "I've still got…" She looked down at the slim pile in her hand, counting to herself. "…four cards left."

Andy smirked. "If you say so."

Less than a minute later, Claire sighed and tossed a two of spades down next to Andy's ten of hearts. "Fine," she admitted. "You win."

Andy grinned and started shuffling the cards into a loose pile. "Wanna play again?"

Claire leaned her head back against the wall behind her. "No, I'm tired," she answered, closing her eyes as if to prove her point. Andy noticed that the lids of her eyes were covered in light brown eye shadow, and that her mascara had smudged just a little bit, probably from sweat. She'd been wearing light pink lip gloss earlier, but it had come off when she started drinking. Now her lips were pale red as usual, still wet from the beer.

"I was thinking…" she said, without even opening her eyes.

Andy paused. "About what?" Her eyelids fluttered open, and she looked over at him. Without her even saying anything, he knew.

"We were cowards, weren't we?" Claire whispered.

And there it was, all out on the table, the one topic they'd been avoiding all night. The elephant in the room that they had been pretending not to notice. It felt kind of silly now, to talk about all those other things when it was clear that they'd both been thinking about them all night. As if they had any choice.

"It probably wouldn't have even been that hard," Claire continued, watching him with tired, glassy eyes. "Our friends wouldn't have cared, at least not after a while."

Andy looked down at his hands, rubbed his thumb in a circle against the palm of his other hand. "Yeah."

"And you know what's funny?"

"What?"

"It doesn't matter anymore anyway."

Andy looked up to see her still watching him. She was leaning her head sideways against the treehouse wall, and a piece of her long red hair was pasted to her neck with dried sweat. Her lips were parted slightly, her cheeks flushed from the heat.

"It's funny how we have so many friends in common, but we've never really talked before now," she said, smiling sadly. "Why do you think that is? I mean, nobody would have said anything. It would have made sense."

Andy shrugged. "I don't know," he replied truthfully.

"It's kind of funny that we're finally talking now," Claire continued. "Now that those things don't even matter anymore. We can talk to each other now, but we couldn't talk to them then."

What Andy didn't want to tell her was that he'd never really wanted to talk to her. Not that he found her repulsive, physically or personally – he'd just never really found any reason to talk to her before detention. They didn't really have anything in common, at least not that he could see. And after detention it was just easier not to, because what would he have said to her? It occurred to Andy that the only reason they were able to talk tonight was because they were leaving. Both of them were going to get on a plane tomorrow, and things would be different then.

"Did you see any of them before school let out?" he asked.

Claire nodded. "I saw Brian on the last day. We talked in the hallway for a few minutes."

Andy lifted his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. He said he was going to some camp this summer. Some kind of space camp, I think."

Andy smiled faintly, imagining Brian in a spacesuit, floating around in an anti-gravity chamber. For an instant, he almost felt jealous of Claire for getting a chance to talk to Brian again before school let out. He knew that it was too late now and it wouldn't mean anything anymore, but it would have been nice to see him again to say goodbye. Or hello, like he wanted to say back in March when his coach was on his back about the state finals and his mom was bugging him about scholarships, and the last thing in the world that he needed was one more person pressuring him to live up to their expectations.

"Space camp," he echoed, because it seemed easier than explaining what he was really thinking.

Claire let out a short laugh that sounded more like a sigh. "He seemed excited about it."

Andy nodded and looked down at his hands. There was a moment of silence where Andy knew that both of them were thinking of the two people they hadn't mentioned yet, and probably wouldn't. He felt a twinge of guilt surfacing, but not as much as he might have expected. In a way, it all felt like such a long time ago, like it was part of someone else's memories. Sort of the way tomorrow felt like someone else's plane ride, someone else's future. He was stuck somewhere in between.

"I'm glad I came to this party," said Claire, watching him to gauge his reaction. "I kept wanting to talk to you after it happened, but…"

Andy nodded to show her that he understood and that no explanation was needed.

"But I'm glad we got to talk now," she continued. "Even if it is the last night."

There was something kind of sad about the way she said it, like what she really meant to say was "even if it's too late", but she couldn't force herself to say the words. Andy felt his chest tighten uncomfortably, and he looked up to see that she was still watching him, waiting. There was a bead of sweat clinging to her upper lip, and that same strand of hair was still glued to her neck, dark with sweat. Before he could stop himself, he reached forward and brushed it loose.

And then Claire was leaning forward, hand on his knee to keep herself upright, pressing her lips firmly against his. He tasted beer and sweat and maybe the faintest bit of cherry flavored lip gloss. His hand found her waist, and he pulled her closer, almost into his lap. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, and he remembered how good it felt to kiss someone that way, so completely and without hesitation.

There was no hesitation either when Claire's hands settled on his chest and she started undoing the buttons on his polo shirt, tugging at his collar so that she could run her fingertips across his neck. Her hands were warm, almost sticky from the heat, and they felt good against his skin. So good that when she reached down to pull the bottom of his shirt up over his stomach, he didn't even try to stop her. He helped her remove the shirt and tossed it onto the floor beside them.

It would have been easy to blame it on the beer, but the alcohol had all but worn off. They knew what they were doing.

With his shirt on the floor, Claire settled back on her heels and reached for the top button of her own shirt. As he watched her fingers travel lower and lower, revealing more of her skin with every inch, Andy wondered briefly if she'd ever done anything with anyone in those five months since detention, if she was still a virgin. Maybe she'd done it with John Bender. From what she'd said before, it sounded unlikely, but he wondered about it anyway, especially when she tossed her shirt to the floor and reached for the clasp of her bra.

It took a few minutes to get started. There was the fumble for his wallet, and then he dropped the condom about a thousand times before he managed to rip it open with his teeth. Claire's belt got caught in one of the loops, and it took so long to get it unhooked that he was almost tempted to rip off the entire loop and buy her a new pair. Her face was so flushed, her fingers so impatient, that he didn't think she would even mind.

It was only when he entered her that Andy knew that Claire and Bender had never been together. There was a slight resistance when he pushed himself inside, coupled with Claire's sharp intake of breath that sounded more like pain than pleasure. He forced himself to stay still and wait for her to adjust to him, watching her closely to see if she was okay. Despite his impatience, he still wanted to make this a good experience for her, even if they were in his friend's treehouse in the middle of the night, with a few stray playing cards trapped beneath them and dozen empty beer cans scattered on the floor beside.

After several seconds of labored breathing, she reached around and put a hand on his back, pulling him tighter against her. Their eyes met and she nodded slightly, signaling that it was okay for him to continue. He started moving inside of her again, using slow, shallow strokes, still watching her face for clues to how she was feeling. And while there might have been some discomfort, she looked like she was taking it well. Andy reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, and she let out a shaky breath.

The whole thing didn't last very long, as much as Andy was ashamed to admit it. It had been too long since the last time, and he didn't have the energy to put off the inevitable. Claire didn't look like she was anywhere close to that point, but Andy had the feeling that she didn't mind. Instead, she seemed to respond the most when he kissed her, or when he brushed his hand against the soft skin of her waist, trailing his fingers over the curves of her hips.

"I'm going to…" He trailed off, sucking in a deep breath in a last ditch effort to regain control. But any pretense of restraint was lost when Claire pushed her hips up against his, forcing him in deeper. He came with a strangled cry of relief, fingertips digging uselessly into the folds of the blanket.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment as Andy struggled to get his breathing under control. Claire's hands were resting on his shoulders, and she hesitantly reached up to push a lock of damp hair off of his forehead. He sucked in a deep breath and pulled himself up to his knees. He didn't know what to do with the condom and he didn't want to leave it there, so he tied it off and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans, which were lying in a messy pile on the floor next to his shirt. When he was finished, he rolled over onto the floor so that he and Claire were lying side by side with their shoulders barely touching.

"I'm sorry you didn't…"

Claire shook her head, and he felt a lock of her hair brush against his shoulder. "It doesn't matter."

Andy accepted this without saying anything, having no energy to protest. Whether it was the beer or the sex or just the long night catching up with him, he suddenly felt very tired. He let his eyelids flutter closed for a moment, then forced them open again, not wanting to fall asleep with Claire lying there next to him, naked. Somehow he didn't think that would be very polite.

They lay there for a few minutes staring up at the ceiling before Andy hauled himself up into a sitting position. Without saying anything, Claire followed his lead and they started getting dressed again. Maybe both of them could sense that it was time to go home, that they had said and done everything that they possibly could. When Claire finished buttoning her top, she turned to Andy, who was tying up his shoes, and tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear.

"Do you need a ride home?"

Andy found Jacob asleep on the couch in the game room, his hair sticking up in about a half million directions. Frank was curled up on the loveseat, still wearing his sneakers. Andy nudged both of them awake.

"Hey," said Jacob, squinting up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "What time is it?"

Andy glanced down at his watch. "About five thirty." He actually hadn't realized it was that late, but it made sense. In a way, he felt like they'd been in that treehouse for days.

"Fuck," said Frank, closing his eyes again and burrowing deeper into the cushions of the loveseat.

"I wanted to say bye," said Andy. "I'm leaving."

"Bye," Frank murmured sleepily.

Andy sighed and turned back to Jacob, who was rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. "I'll call you when I get settled in."

Jacob nodded and stood up from the couch, giving Andy a brotherly hug. "I'll see you later, man."

Andy nodded against his shoulder and pulled away. "You, too. Bye."

Jacob fell back down on the couch and leaned his head back against the arm cushion, closing his eyes. Frank was already asleep again, snoring softly. Andy paused in the doorway once last time, then walked back into the hallway.

The sun was starting to rise as Andy plopped down into Claire's Buick and slammed the door. Neither of them spoke on the way to Andy's house. It wasn't an awkward silence, at least not really. It just felt like neither of them had anything left to say, and that was okay. Claire turned on the radio, and Andy watched the houses fly by outside of his window.

"Is this the one?"

Andy looked up in time to see Claire pull up in front of his house, right next to the mailbox. "Yeah, this is it." He removed his seatbelt and turned to look over at her. "Thanks for taking me home," he said lamely, not knowing what else he was supposed to say.

Claire smiled and nodded. "You're welcome. Have a good flight...and a good semester."

"Yeah, you, too. Enjoy Paris."

Claire nodded. "I think I will."

Andy paused, hand on the door handle. "And, uh, take care of yourself."

Claire smiled, a little bit sadly this time. "You, too. And thanks...for everything."

Andy nodded, knowing what she meant and also knowing that he didn't entirely deserve her gratitude. He pushed open the door and climbed out of the car, shutting it behind him. He got all the way up to his door before he turned and looked back to see Claire watching him, waiting to make sure that he got in alright. He unlocked his front door and waved at her. She waved back, then put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb.

Inside, Grant was sitting at the kitchen counter reading yesterday's sports page. He looked up when Andy walked in, lowering his coffee cup onto the counter. "The prodigal son returns."

Andy frowned. "What are you doing up?"

Grant shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

Andy nodded and leaned against the counter, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his letter jacket. Grant looked him over, searching for clues to his activities. "Good night?"

Andy paused thoughtfully. "Yeah," he decided.

Grant nodded slowly and lifted the mug to his lips again. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah." He wanted to say more, but from the way Grant was looking at him, Andy figured it was probably written all over his face anyway. The details were his, though. Winning at darts, the sound of Jacob's drunken laughter echoing through the house. The color of Claire's eyes right before he kissed her. Those were his.

"Your shirt," said Grant.

Andy blinked and looked down at the front of his shirt. "What?"

"No, it's…" Grant hesitated for a moment, then reached forward and adjusted Andy's collar, which was tucked under like it had been earlier when he first got dressed that night. For once, Andy let his brother fuss over him and didn't push him away.

"Thanks," he said when Grant finished.

Grant nodded and sat back down on the stool. He was still watching him, but it didn't look like he was searching for clues anymore. Instead it looked like he was trying to remember something, or maybe trying to fight off a memory.

"I should go to bed," said Andy.

Grant nodded. "You're going to be exhausted on the plane."

Andy sighed and thumped his fist lightly against the counter. "Probably...good night."

"Night."

When he got back to his room, Andy closed the door and removed his letter jacket, arranging it carefully on the back of his desk chair. The sunlight was streaming in from the window next to his bed, spotting the bedspread with strange patterns. Without removing his clothes or his shoes, he plopped down on the bed and folded his arms across his chest.

For a long time, Andy stared out the window, focusing on the tree on the other side of the glass, the one he used when he would sneak out at night when he wasn't supposed to go out. He was tired as hell, and he knew that he should at least try to get a couple of hours in before he had to start getting ready to leave for his flight, but for some reason he knew he wouldn't be able to go to sleep. He was there, tottering on the edge of something big, and something like giddiness was sneaking up on him, building up in his stomach like any minute he was going to start giggling and not be able to stop. But he didn't. He smiled, letting the feeling wash over him, and closed his eyes against the morning sun.

The End

A/N: If you got this far, then thanks for reading and please review. However, if you are only going to tell me that you hate the pairing and that I'm a terrible, terrible person for writing it, then please save us both some time and don't bother. Otherwise, I would love to hear what you think. Thanks!