"Are you sure this is such a good idea?"

Oz grinned down at Gil, whose amber eyes were wide and fearful. "Don't worry," he said, patting the younger boy on the shoulder. "No one is going to find out about this. Besides, you've seen how weird Uncle Oscar acts when he's drunk. Don't you want to find out how that feels?"

Gil shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know… I mean, aren't we too young to be drinking?"

"It won't be that much. Just a bit of wine," Oz pressured him. "Oh, come on, Gil! Loosen up. It'll be fun."

The idea of drinking wasn't as scary as the idea of getting yelled at afterward. But Oz was smiling at him so sweetly, and his green eyes were just so bright. Gil swallowed hard before managing a quiet little, "Okay then…"

"Great!" Oz grabbed the dark-haired boy by the hand, and they raced down the hallway. The feeling of Oz's warm hand clasped around his was enough to make heat spread across Gil's face. For a second he worried that Oz would see, but the other boy wasn't looking at him.

Finally, they reached the wine cellar. Not letting go of Gil's hand, Oz pulled a small key from the pocket of his shorts and used it to open the door. They were faced with a flight of stairs that led downward. Shadows were creeping up the stairs from the bottom, which was pitch-black. "It looks dark down there," whispered Gil, squeezing Oz's hand tighter.

"I have candles, remember? And besides, I'll protect you," promised Oz, grinning. He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small candle, which he passed to Gil. Then he went back into his pocket for a box of matches. "Okay, you can let go of my hand now."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Young Master," mumbled Gil, embarrassed. He dropped the older boy's hand. Oz struck the match on the matchbox, and then used it to light the candle that Gil was holding. With that, he blew out the match and took Gil's hand again.

"Let's go!" he exclaimed, and the two boys headed down the stairs.

The light from the candle illuminated the dark space all around them, casting vast shadows on the walls. They made Gil nervous, but having Oz's hand wrapped around his filled him with confidence. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Oz picked up a bottle.

"I don't know much about which wine is the best," he said. "But I think this one looks good. What do you think, Gil?"

"It doesn't matter to me," he replied. "Whatever you choose."

"Okay." The two boys sat down on the ground. Oz picked up a corkscrew off of a nearby table and used it to open up the bottle. "It smells good," he announced. As Gil watched, he brought the bottle to his lips and took a long sip.

"How is it?" the dark-haired boy asked.

"Tastes like sour grape juice," Oz said. "Here, you have some." He passed the bottle to the younger boy, who took it and tentatively brought it to his lips. Oz was right; the liquid was sour. He jerked the bottle away from his lips, coughing.

Oz laughed. "Oh, Gil. You're such a lightweight." He took the bottle back and sipped from it again. "Mm. It's strange, but I kind of like it."

The candlelight was lighting up Oz's face, turning his golden hair into sunlight. He's so cute, thought Gil, as butterflies fluttered inside of his stomach. It was then that he remembered a time, at a Christmas party a year or so back, when Uncle Oscar had gotten very drunk and tried to kiss one of the maids. Does that always happen when you get drunk? he wondered. All of a sudden, a surge of confidence hit him out of nowhere. "Young Master, can I have another sip?" he asked.

"Of course!" Oz passed the bottle back to him. "I'm impressed."

Gil took a small drink from the bottle. It burned his throat on the way down, but at least it went down that time. He licked his lips and gave the bottle back to Oz, who drank from it again.

"Do you think we'll drink lots of wine when we're older?" asked the younger boy.

"I don't know. Probably at fancy parties and stuff," Oz said, wiping his mouth.

"You think I'll be at fancy parties?"

"Of course you will. You'll be with me!" Oz exclaimed, beaming. Gil's heart skipped a beat. Without even looking in a mirror, he could just tell that his cheeks were bright pink, but Oz didn't seem to notice. His green eyes were slightly glazed; he was getting tipsy, the servant realized with a start.

"Th-Thank you, Young Master," stammered Gil, wringing his hands together. "I'd like that."

After taking yet another swig of the wine, Oz reached over and took one of Gil's hands in his own, ceasing their nervous movement. "I really like you, you know, Gil," continued Oz. "I want you to come to every party with me. No… I want you to come everywhere with me."

A rush of wild joy hit Gil. His heart was pounding relentlessly in his thin chest. "I'd like that," he said again, his voice softer this time. A small smile was spreading across his face.

"You'd like that?" asked Oz.

"Y-Yes."

"Can I ask you a question, then? Do you like me?"

The question took Gil by surprise. Normally, his nerves would've gotten the best of him and he would have shut down. But something inside of him, possibly the alcohol running through his bloodstream, gave him the last little push that he needed. "Yes," he repeated in a whisper. "Young Master- I mean, Oz… I… I think you're so amazing… and… I look up to you so much… you're so good to me, I hardly think it's fair for me to ask for anything more… but if I could…"

When Gil looked up, he found that Oz was leaning in toward him. The candlelight was flickering over his face, accentuating its many curves and lines. They were close enough to take in each and every detail of each other. "What would you ask for, then?" Oz said.

"I…" Gil's voice faltered, but he managed to continue. "I would ask you to k-kiss me, right now…"

Before he could finish his sentence, Oz bridged the gap between them, pressing his lips to Gil's. The older boy's lips tasted like wine, but Gil could still smell the earthy, clean scent that hung off of Oz, and clung to his own clothes whenever they sat too close together. He felt one of Oz's hands come to rest on the back of his neck, and the other was still clasped tightly in Gil's. Warmth spread through Gil's entire body, from his lips all the way down to his toes. He was so happy that he ached with it. He was kissing Oz. More importantly, Oz was kissing him. Oz was the heir to a rich family. Gil was just a lowly orphan that they'd taken in out of pity. And out of everyone, Oz was choosing to kiss him.

Tears started to form in his eyes. He pulled away, wiping at them with the back of his sleeve. "What's wrong?" asked Oz, with a concerned look on his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, it's just… I'm so lucky," cried Gil.

The smile was back on Oz's face as if it had never faded away in the first place. He laughed. "Oh, is that all? Come back over here then!" With that, he pulled Gil back in.

xXx

Later that day, when Oscar went down to find a bottle of wine for the evening, he came across the two boys lying completely asleep on the ground, curled up beside each other. The man laughed as quietly as he could, hoping not to wake them.

"Silly boys," he chuckled, grabbing both of them by their collars and hefting them into his arms. "This is why you wait until you're older!"

It was then that he noticed that Oz and Gil's hands were clasped tightly together, even in sleep. A soft smile spread across his face. He was careful not to separate them as he carried them upstairs to bed.

end