"You're never going to amount to anything if you don't clean up your act, Allen!" Mr. Jones snapped, following his rebellious, disobedient son through the house, trying for possibly the millionth time to reason with the teen.

Allen grabbed his leather coat and in a quick motion pulled it on, casting a heated glare over his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck off, old man. I'm goin' out," the teen snarled and stormed out the front door.

Releasing a puff of smoke through his nostrils, he discarded his unfinished cigarette onto the slightly damp grass and stamped it out with the heel of his boot. Once he'd left his house, admittedly he hadn't had the slightest clue where he wanted to go. So allowing his feet to guide him, Allen walked, his eyesight aided by the starry, moonlit night, until he arrived here. The teen visibly relaxed, earlier tension leaving him with ease. He was exactly where he wanted to be right now. The place he'd arrived at was a quaint, but beautiful town house where lately he often found comfort from the conflictions in his life. And there was only one reason for this.

Quietly, Allen tiptoed to one of the windows and carefully lifted it up, opening it up just enough for him to fit through. He hoisted himself onto the window sill and made sure he was silent as he crawled into the favored room, not wanting to alarm the occupants. Once inside, Allen shut the window back and began getting comfortable.

The burgundy-haired teen unlaced his boot and kicked them off, making his steps much softer and bringing more comfort to his feet. He then shrugged off his jacket and carelessly tossed it onto the carpeted floor, yawning as a wave of lethargy swept over him. Longingly, Allen gazed over to the bed where his lover slept and started over there, halting to look down at his clothes. The white tank top he was wearing under his jacket was stained in patches black from the mechanical work he enjoyed. He knew that his love wouldn't appreciate grease stains all over the blankets, so without a second thought he stripped off the tank top and tossed it in the pile with his jacket. Allen leaned over to inspect his ripped jeans and with a heavy sigh realized that black stains occupied them as well. Looks like he was going to be discarding his bottoms as well. He really needed to invest in new clothes.

After shedding off his jeans and deeming himself clean enough, Allen made his way to the bed and crawled under the blankets. He propped himself up on his elbow and admired the one sleeping next to him. Oliver Kirkland lay on his side, curled somewhat into a ball while hugging a small stuffed bear to his chest. This made Allen blush. Allen had given Oliver that bear the year before for Valentine's Day. The rebel had no idea Oliver still owned the thing. A broad grin occupied his features and a small, hardly noticeable blush burned his cheeks. Allen reached over, threading his fingers through Oliver's gorgeous strawberry blonde locks. The sleeping teen hummed contently in response, leaning more into the affectionate gesture. Allen's rough, calloused hand slipped away from the blonde's hair and gently cupped Oliver's pale, freckled cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin. Allen stared lovingly at his British boyfriend, finding so much beauty in the other. He'd never thought that someone so wonderfully sweet and alluring could ever care for him, so that Oliver responded to his affections in the first place both surprised him and filled him with joy he'd never experienced before. He wanted to be able to repay Oliver for giving him that feeling. He wasn't sure how he could even begin to do that, but he would try. Step by step.

A sudden desire to kiss his lover overcame him and he couldn't stop himself from leaning forward to brush his lips against Oliver's forehead…then his nose…his lips. Oliver sighed softly and slowly opened his eyes, roused from his sleep by all of Allen's undivided attention. Allen noticed this and pulled away a slight bit, offering the half-awake teen a small smile.

"Poppet…?" Oliver mumbled tiredly, making Allen grin even wider.

"Yeah, darling, it's me," he whispered, his thumb continuing to affectionately caress the other's cheek. "Dad was bitchin' again…"

Oliver winced at the curse word, but decided to ignore it for now. He furrowed his eyebrows, a concerned look settling over his delicate features. "Are you ok, love…?"

Allen rested his forehead against Oliver's, pressing another quick kiss on the nose. "I'm fine, Ollie. Don't worry about me. Go back to sleep, darling."

Oliver frowned and tenderly wrapped his arms around Allen, cradling the darker-skinned teen against his chest. Allen relaxed in Oliver's arms and closed his eyes, indulging in the comfort of the blonde. Oliver's gentle fingers combed through the rebel's hair while he hummed a loving tune. If there was one thing that Oliver was good at, it was bringing comfort. Allen huddled close to the blonde and hugged him around the waist, burying his face in Oliver's chest. He breathed in the familiar, sweet scent of his darling and paused when he noticed another equally familiar scent. Allen opened his eyes quickly, leaned back a little, and squinted to get a better look in the darkness. When his eyes adjusted, he realized that Oliver was wearing one of his t-shirts. He could tell from the faded Nirvana logo printed on it; the fact that Oliver had never even heard of Nirvana helped out too. Allen guessed that was where the other scent came from.

"Ollie?"

"Hm, what is it, poppet?"

Allen blushed. "You're wearing my shirt…"

The blonde giggled and nodded in response. "You left it over here and I like the way it smells so I decided to wear it. When you're not around, it makes me feel like you're right beside me."

"That's cute, darling. You just miss me that much?" the darker of the two teased, flashing Oliver a devilish grin.

Oliver rolled his eyes, a small blush dusting his cheeks. "Oh, of course, poppet. I miss you so much. I just don't know what to do when you're gone."

Allen laughed, flattered by the blonde's affections, and couldn't help but press multiple, sloppy kisses all over Oliver's cute, flushed face. Oliver squealed in surprise and burst into hysterical laughter, bracing his hands on Allen's bare chest in a sad attempt to push the other away. However, as expected by both, Allen overpowered the smaller teen and hovered over him, continuing to shower him with kisses.

"A-Allen!" Oliver managed to breathe out between his laughter. "Y-you're such a d-dog!"

Smirking, Allen ceased his relentless kissing and instead licked both of Oliver's blushing cheeks. The Brit wrinkled his nose up and wiped away the saliva coating his face with the back of his hand, making a sound of feigned disgust as Allen only licked his cheeks again. Allen then ran his tongue up the bridge of Oliver's nose before letting loose a howl. Oliver couldn't help but grin at his lover's silliness; Allen always managed to amuse him, even if it meant being a little humiliating. The blonde stared up lovingly at Allen, his heart thundering in his chest as his eyes met the other's dark ones. The two gazed at each other, expressions of pure love etched onto their differing features, and remained still. Allen was the first to make a move, leaning down until his lips were just barely poised above Oliver's. Oliver paused, waiting on Allen to finish the act…

…but he didn't. Allen barked softly and ruined the moment by licking Oliver's lips, earning a squeak from the blonde. Oliver's features contorted into a grossed-out expression as he turned his head to the side, frantically wiping his lips on his arm.

"Ew, that was so gross, poppet. No," Oliver glanced back at Allen, now pouting.

Allen chuckled, his eyes lighting up in amusement. "You're the one who called me a dog, Ollie. Besides, there's nothin' gross about puppy kisses." The rebel smiled, releasing another bark and licking Oliver's face once more. He only stopped his silly act when a thought crossed his mind. Oliver's mother could be home and here he was making a shit-ton of noise. Nervously, he shifted his eyes to the door, half-expecting her to charge in at any moment.

"Something wrong, love?" Oliver's sweet voice questioned, puzzled by Allen's sudden change in demeanor.

"Your mom home, darling?" Allen narrowed his eyes, continuing to watch the door for any sign of life outside Oliver's room.

"Oh. No, poppet, she works nights," With a blatant sigh of relief, Allen turned his attention back to Oliver. "Even if she was here, it wouldn't be any trouble at all. She really likes you, Allen."

"Really?" Allen was genuinely surprised. He had only met Oliver's mother a handful of times and he never thought he made a good impression, though he tried very hard to be respectful and polite, things that didn't come easy to him at all. It was a shock that his darling's mother actually took a liking to him. Adults didn't like him. Hell, hardly anyone liked him. The parental figure of his innocent, goody-goody boyfriend was someone who shouldn't like him. He was a bad influence, a menace to society. He shoplifted, vandalized, keyed cars, smoked cigarettes, everything a teenage criminal could think of doing.

Oliver yawned, interrupting his train of thought. "Of course, love. I wouldn't lie to you. She thinks you're a wonderful guy. A little rough around the edges, but wonderful all the same." The blonde rubbed his tired eyes and offered Allen a sweet smile. "And most importantly, I love you."

Allen blushed heavily and returned the smile, kissing Oliver's soft, inviting lips before resting on the blonde and using his chest as a pillow. Oliver huffed softly at the sudden weight on his small frame and hugged Allen, not particularly minding that he was being laid on. "I love you too, darling. Don't you forget that, ok?"

"I won't, poppet. Let's get some sleep," Oliver pressed a tender kiss on top of Allen's head and closed his eyes, settling down for bed.

"M'kay. Love you, Ollie,"

Oliver giggled quietly, soothingly running his hands up and down Allen's back. "I love you too, Al."

Grinning widely, Allen hid his face in Oliver's chest and whispered, "Say it again, darling…"

Oliver smiled. "I love you, Allen Jones, with all of my heart and all of my soul. Now go to sleep, love."

"'Kay…," the rebel muttered, butterflies dancing happily in his belly, and shut his eyes, ready for bed…

…You'll never amount to anything…

The harsh, but true, words of his father suddenly echoed in his ears, reminding him of just how worthless he really was. Allen frowned and lifted his head, gazing at his boyfriend with sorrowful eyes. Though he was truly happy that Oliver thought he was something to love, his dwindling self-respect overpowered this and before he could stop himself he blurted out, "Darling, I'm so trashy and not worth your time. I don't have anything to offer you and I'm not going to amount to much of anything. Why do you waste your time with a loser like me?"

"Oh…oh, poppet," Oliver quickly opened his eyes, startled by Allen's out of the blue rant. He pushed away his exhaustion, finding Allen's plight to be more important than his own lethargy, and gave Allen a pat on the back. "Sit up, love. Let's talk."

Reluctantly, Allen rolled off of Oliver and sat up, knowing there was no going back now. He made a point to keep his gaze away from Oliver. He was completely ashamed that he'd brought up the subject. He should've just kept his mouth shut. Oliver didn't need to hear just how little self-worth he had. It wouldn't be fair to him.

Oliver sat up cross-legged in front of Allen, gently taking hold of his worn hands and smiling. "Look at me, love," the blonde requested, his voice kind and gentle. Allen hesitated before slowly following Oliver's instructions, cheeks alit with embarrassment. "That's better."

"So tell me why. You know I'm nothin' but a piece of garbage…" As much as Allen was tempted to look away he forced himself to keep eye contact with Oliver, knowing that it would make the blonde happy.

Oliver sighed heavily and gave the other's hands a light squeeze. "You're not garbage, Allen. I think you're a beautiful person. You've just made some bad choices, but it's ok. Everyone makes bad choices every once in a while. As long as you learn from them and use them to make yourself better, then you're not bad."

Allen blinked, taken aback and truly touched by Oliver's words. "B-but…I'm not better. I'm terrible; I always have been. I don't ever do the right thing."

"You're not terrible, love. Don't talk about yourself like that," Oliver leaned forward and kissed Allen's cheek. "You can get better. I believe you can, but you'll need help. You can't do it alone."

Allen took a deep breath, thinking deeply about Oliver's words. He could get better? Was it really possibly? If Oliver thought so, then maybe it could happen. But…if he was going to get better, then he would have to change…and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Change was never easy, especially this change. How could he turn away from his criminal ways? It seemed impossible, like too much work. It'd just be simpler to stay the way he was. However, there was a problem with this: he wanted to change. Allen wanted to be better, to make people proud of him, to impress and secretly, he wanted to get along with his parents again. The relationship he held with them now was complicated at best, and it was admittedly all his fault. Since entering adolescence he'd been deliberately pushing them away and rebelling against their every rule. He screwed up, and he wanted to patch things up. If he desperately wished to change, then he would need their help. Oliver was right; he couldn't do this alone. He needed people, good people. Not the delinquents he often surrounded himself with. They were his friends, sure, and he didn't want to cut ties so easily, but this was something that needed to be done. If he continued hanging around the same guys, he would no doubt fall right back into delinquency. Changing definitely wasn't going to be easy.

"You're right," Allen finally managed to mutter. "I…I need to change. I need to get better. You'll help, won't you, darling?"

Oliver nodded, happily pouncing forward and hugging Allen tightly. "I will, poppet! I will! I can't do it alone, though."

"I know, Ollie," Allen wrapped his arms around Oliver and rested his chin on top of the blonde's head. "Darling…I think…I think I want to talk to my parents tomorrow…and I want you to meet them."

The blonde smiled. "That's a lovely idea, Al. If anyone can help, it'll be your parents."

"Yeah…let's worry about that tomorrow…I'm tired,"

"Me too, love. Goodnight, Al."

Allen's lips twitched into a small smile. "G'night, Ollie."

…xXx…

Allen stood in the doorway of his kitchen, watching his father read the morning paper and his mother bustle as she prepared breakfast for the family. They were unaware that he was there, and he preferred that right now. He needed a few moments to calm down and gather up his nerve. This wasn't going to be easy.

"You can do it, Allen," Oliver whispered beside him, smiling up encouragingly at him. Allen returned the smile nervously.

"Thanks, darling," Allen leaned over and pressed a kiss on Oliver's cheek before stepping into the busy kitchen to make his presence known. "Mom…Dad…?"

Mrs. Jones immediately stopped what she was doing and gasped, turning to look at her son with tears glistening in her eyes. Mr. Jones glanced up from his newspaper briefly and then dropped his gaze back to the words, finishing up an article before folding the paper and setting it on the table. Allen shifted uncomfortably as his parents' eyes were expectantly watching him.

"You guys…I…I'm sorry," Allen bowed his head, too ashamed to meet their gaze. "You've been trying to do what's best for me, and I've been pushing you away. I'm sorry. I want to change…and…Mom, Dad, I need you."

His mother was the first to react. Not even a second had passed since Allen finished apologizing before she was rushing forward and hugging the teen, crying joyously into his shoulder. Allen stood frozen, obviously not expecting such a reaction from his mother. He shook his head, pushing away his shock for the sake of his mom, and hesitantly returned her hug.

"M-my baby…oh my sweet boy, you're back!" Mrs. Jones cried, squeezing Allen even closer to her.

"Y-yeah, calm down, Mom. You're kinda squishin' me here," he mumbled, squirming around now in her tight embrace.

Getting the hint, Mrs. Jones released her son and took a step back, smiling brightly at him. "Oh, Allen, I'm so proud of you! You're father and I will help you, sweetheart. I promise. Oh, I love you, baby!" She wiped her tear-filled eyes and grasped Allen's hands, leaning forward and pressing repeated kisses on his cheek.

Allen blushed heavily, embarrassed by his mother's blatant affections. "I love you too, Mom…"

Mrs. Jones happily kissed his cheek a few more times before finally letting up on her kisses and grinning at her son. She looked so happy. Allen couldn't help but grin right back at her, finding that her happiness was something he enjoyed seeing. It'd been so long since he'd seen her smile like that…if him changing was going to make his mother happy, then it was definitely worth it. The only one to win over now was his father.

In the midst of the mother-son reconciliation, Mr. Jones had risen from his seat and took a stand next to them. He'd waited silently, patiently, for their interaction to cease, all the while mulling over how to respond to his rebellious son who was now asking for forgiveness and help. What was he to do? After all the grief Allen had given them, all the tears his wife had shed, the teen was still his son. And he loved his son, no matter what. He supposed forgiving his son would be the right thing to do.

"Allen," Mr. Jones began, summoning both the attention of his wife and son.

Allen stared at his father, gnawing on his lip nervously, and waited, hoping for the best but automatically expecting the worst. What if his father disowned him…? What if he never got forgiveness? What would he do then…?

The two stared at each other, both silent. Finally, Mr. Jones did something that the teen honestly didn't expect. Allen's eyes widened in surprise as his father took a tentative step forward and pulled him into a hug.

"D-Dad…?"

"I forgive you, and I'm proud of you," Mr. Jones said, ruffling Allen's burgundy hair and taking a step back to look at his son. "This is a big decision. Are you sure you're ready for this? You know it's not going to be easy."

"I know. I'm really gonna try though," Allen nodded and then shifted his gaze to the doorway, remembering that Oliver was still there, waiting. "I want you guys to meet someone…"

Mr. and Mrs. Jones followed their son's gaze, curious. Oliver then side-stepped into view and shyly entered the kitchen, smiling politely at Allen's parents. Allen motioned Oliver forward, securing an arm around the smaller teen's waist once he was close enough, earning looks of surprise from the adults.

"Mom, Dad, this is Oliver Kirkland. He's the one who pushed me to do this," Allen held his parents' gazes, knowing that what he was about to say next would either turn them against him, or bring the family closer. "And…he's my boyfriend. I'm gay…"

Allen took a deep breath and braced himself for his parents' rejection, actually expecting it. Mr. and Mrs. Jones stood quiet, eyes shifting back and forth between the two teens.

This can't be good… Allen thought, shooting a brief glance at Oliver. Despite his negative thoughts, he hoped things would turn out for the better.

Suddenly, Mrs. Jones launched herself at Oliver and gripped him in a bone-crushing hug. Oliver squeaked, obviously taken aback by the sudden display of affection.

"Thank you so much…whatever you did to make him change like this, I appreciate it. We both do. Thank you," she pulled back and smiled at Oliver, her eyes watering. "It's so wonderful to meet you, sweetie. Allen bagged quite a cutie."

Oliver blushed, a bit embarrassed, but smiled back nonetheless and giggled. "You're welcome…it's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Jones."

Allen watched on in awe as his father politely greeted Oliver, giving the same kind of speech as his mother. It was amazing. He honestly didn't think this meeting would go over all that well, but it did. Everything was going smoothly. His parents were willing to patch up their relationship with him, accepted his homosexuality without a problem, and now he was on a path to becoming someone better. Someone worth something. He was going to amount to something.