Francis sat next to his best friend on the couch, reading both of their homework books. Hershel finally looked up and at his friend, closing his book.

"I think I've done enough for today. If I don't stop I'll be ahead of the class." Hershel closed the book and smiled at Francis who seemed to do the same thing. "What time did you say your stepfather would be back, Cici?"

The younger boy looked at the clock. "We have a couple of hours. Don't worry." He assured and threw his homework next to him. He had finished his chores, so even if his stepfather walked in on he and his friend, there wasn't much he could be angry with.

Cici found himself sitting closer to his best friend. "I'm glad we get to hang out like this. We never do with Lando around."

The older boy nodded. "Yeah, luckily now with high school, he's more distracted."

"High school and Sharon."

Hershel laughed. "Yeah."

Cici licked his lips and crossed his legs. He looked up at Hershel with a smile, and a slight giggle. He'd had a crush on Hershel for as long as he'd known, perhaps now that they were alone, he could finally tell him about it. Or at least do something about it.

He moved himself closer to Hershel and leaned his head on his shoulder. "Hmm…" He moaned lightly and let out another giggle.

"Sleepy Cici." Hershel laughed and lifted his head, so he could look at his face.

Before he could say anything, Francis leaned up to him, and kissed his lips. Hershel seemed to kiss back as he placed his arms around his waist. Cici had never kissed anyone outside of his family, but Hershel was a year older than him. Perhaps he'd know what to do.

After a few seconds, they pulled away, and smiled at each other. "What was that about?" Hershel asked with a snicker.

Francis giggled and moved closer to him. "I dunno." He laughed and kissed him again, this time their mouths open a bit more, and it was a bit more affectionate. He put his hands on Hershel's shoulders and pushed him down on the couch, so he was lying on top of him. His stepfather taught him to do this, was this the right thing to do?

Well Hershel, who was older, wasn't retaliating at his actions. He was actually kissing him back with fervor, and his hands were gripped at Francis's side, pressing their hips together.

Should they have been doing this? Cici didn't think so. Especially not with his little brother playing outside in the back yard, when he could walk in at any moment. How would he explain that to Simon? He couldn't.

Before he could move away, Hershel's lips found their way to Francis's neck, kissing him a little harder. The younger boy moaned a little and moved one hand to his curly hair, and the other to his chest, pulling some fingers under his waist coat.

Hershel kissed his lips again and grabbed his hips, now holding them lower. Both of the boys knew they shouldn't have done what they were doing, but neither of them were about to stop.

Francis, shoving his tongue in Hershel's mouth began rubbing their hips lightly in a rhythmic pattern. This that he learned was all from his stepfather, and he hoped he was still doing it right. He had no idea what he was looking for, but for some reason, he felt he wanted to do this with Hershel.

Hershel let out a light moan and began kissing his neck. "Perhaps we should move elsewhere, like your room." He asked in his neck, leaving a love bite.

"Perhaps you shouldn't." Both of the boys heard from in front of the couch, and both sat up and jumped in surprise. Standing there was Jerome, Francis's stepfather, who looked very cross at the both of them.

The boys sat up in worried, and immediately Francis stood in front of his stepfather. "I'm sorry, father, it won't happen again." He apologized, his hands held in front of him and his head tilted downwards.

Before any other words were exchanged, the man slapped his hand across the younger boy's cheek, sending his held head to looked even further downwards, tears stifling. "You're damn right it won't." He said angrily.

Hershel sat up, worried, but still defensive. "Sir, it wasn't his fault." He walked over to him and grabbed Cici's arm, trying to pull him away. "It was mine, I encouraged him to…to kiss me."

Jerome watched him for a second, with the same scowl, before he balled his hand up and punched him in the face. Hershel fell back in surprise, grabbing his cheek. "You sick freak, stay away from my family."

"Father no! It's not his fault!" Francis defended and grabbed his arm.

"Well if it's not your fault and it's not his fault, it must be my fault." He hit the smaller brunette again and grabbed him by his hair. He was obviously furious now. "What? Don't I give you enough? You need to turn to neighbor boys to get more sex?" He hit him again, this time, more of a punch than a slap. Cici let out a small whimper of pain, not daring to fight back as he was being held up by his hair. "Obviously, I need to pay more attention to you, dun I?" He asked and shook his head. He turned to Hershel. "Get out of here, you sick brat. And don't ever come back."

Hershel waited for Cici to symbolize it was okay, before he left. It only took a few minutes before Hershel was out of the house. Jerome pulled his stepson's hair and began dragging him away.

"I'll teach you, you brat." He punched him. "You little shit. What? I dun give you enough sex? We'll don't worry, I'll change that!"

..

Jean Descole woke up again in a weakened, shaky state. How could he be having these dreams again? Again, they were gone for so long, and just came back. He hated these flashbacks. He pulled a shaky hand into his hair and held his head down, trying to gain his composure. He just needed to fall back to sleep.

He turned behind him to see his blonde mate sleeping soundly. Half his face was pressed into the pillow as his long bangs flew over his eyes, and Descole couldn't dare to think to wake him up. He couldn't tell him about his nightmare, but he didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to sleep alone.

Descole lie back down, and pressed his lips to his partner's neck and roamed his hands to his midsection. It was the only way he could think to wake him smoothly.

And it worked. Soon after, he had woken up Bradley, and let him kiss him back. It was his only means of distraction at four-thirty in the morning.

..

"Relevet, balance, soussus, plié."

Descole listened to the director and stood straight after the couple of steps. He turned over to the other members of the troupe who clapped in response. "Thanks." He mumbled and turned to the director. "Sorry, I'm a little rusty, I haven't danced for a while."

"No, that was wonderful, Francis." Mr. Cryptsell complimented, standing up to pat him on the back. Bradley's father had been helping with some of the choreography. "Son, where did you find such good dancers?"

Bradley shrugged with a smile. Dance ran in the family.

Descole took the compliment with ease and sat back down, knowing the session was almost over. He'd been there for hours. He wasn't sure how he decided to take the role in the ballet, but he somehow got persuaded into taking one of the lead dancers.

He and Bradley left to his house shortly after, and he wasn't surprised that he found his brother painting in the main room of the workhouse, what he called the place he and his servants worked for his scientific studies, when he was going to go work on something.

"Look, I'm making your lair, Cici." Simon smiled with oil paints on his face and his art smock. "Ramon went out and got me some paints while he bought you groceries."

Descole raised an eyebrow. "That was nice of him." He looked at the picture and was astonished at the use of color he put into it. Granted he made the entire lab look much more vibrant and bright, but it was amazing nonetheless.

"Yeah, your workers have been coming by and watching me paint, it's really fun." He smiled back at his work and continued to stroke on the canvas. "How was dance?"

"Just fine."

"Oh, Ramon said you had a message, it seemed pretty serious." Simon said looking back, his smile faded. "He didn't tell me what it was about though."

And with that, Descole thought the worse. He walked back into the main apartment, where he lived and saw Ramon and Bradley talking. Bradley had made good friends with the butler, which was fine by Jean, but he always knew they were talking about him, because each time he walked in, they both turned around and shut up.

This was exactly what they did. Descole raised an eyebrow. "Simon said you had a message for me?"

Ramon nodded. "Ah, um, yes, you had a strange phone message."

Bradley looked interested. "A phone message?"

"Yes." The shorter man sighed and moved the bubbling tea pot off the burner. "A very troubling one. I didn't want to tell your brother, but I think it may have been from your stepfather."

Descole's eyes widened but other than that, he tried to remain stoic and frozen. He didn't want to look as if he was worried, but on the inside he was panicking. No wonder he was having those strange flashback dreams again. His stepfather decided to show up again. "What was it?"

"It was mostly fuzzy swearing," Ramon started. "He said he knew where to find you, and…"

"And what?" Descole asked after his voice trailed off. He didn't care how horrible it was, he needed to know.

Ramon sighed lightly and nodded before finishing. "He said, quote 'I'll take my son, and kill you and your fairy boyfriend'."

Bradley looked down as if he was worried and turned to see Descole. "Is there something I can do? Should we change the phone number?"

Descole was frozen. He knew where he was? How did he get his private phone number? And how long had he been stalking him again? He didn't hear from him for months and months, and all of a sudden he shows back up.

"No." He shook his head. "No, we didn't hear that conversation. We're not falling into his trap. Make sure Simon is protected, he can go out, but not without some one. And I'm fine. Don't worry. I need to go take a shower and meet Hershel."

Bradley opened his mouth to say something but his partner was gone before he could.

..

"Descole is at the door again!" Luke said as he answered the door to the professor's apartment and walked into the house.

"Can you get that kid to stop calling me that?" Jean asked as he walked into the living room and smiled and looked to Hershel. "It's getting old."

Layton laughed and gestured him onto the couch, which he did. "Would you like some tea?"

"No I just had some." Which was a lie. "So, why did you want to see me?"

"Because Lando isn't here at the moment and we haven't spoken in a while." He shrugged. "What have you been doing lately? You're still with Bradley?"

Descole nodded and licked his full lips. He looked up at him and smiled. "I've been dancing again."

Hershel raised an eyebrow looking a little skeptical. He sipped his tea again before he went on. "Dancing after such a long break?" He asked and looked away from him. "Are you sure that's safe for you?"

Jean rolled his eyes with a smile. "Yeah, it's fine." His childhood best friend had no idea about how he passed out at the same ballet auditions that gave him a lead part anyway. He didn't want a lecture about how he doesn't eat right, and he's not healthy.

"Have you heard from you father since Simon's been back?"

Well he'd have to lie about that one too. "No. I guess he's finally understood he can't bother me anymore." He looked down and crossed his legs, mentally nervous.

Hershel, being good at puzzles, knew he was lying, but didn't want to say anything. He supposed he'd have to do his own investigating. "Well that's good." He smiled and patted his shoulder. "How's your brother holding up?"

"Oh, still just as great." For the most part, at least. Jean knew that Simon still had some left over anxiety, but he wasn't about to run off or hurt himself. He seemed happy to be with his brother again. He still didn't know what his stepfather did to Simon the day he brought him back to his house, but he wasn't going to ask.

Hershel knew there was something up, but he was going to find out on his own time, in his own way. "It sounds like things have been splendid. You've got a family, you're dancing again, and your past hasn't been haunting you, sounds like the life." He smiled at him.

Jean nodded back. "That is the gist of it." He lied through his smile.

..

Descole, at this point, had his time with his friend and eventually drove back to his house. As he opened the door, he noticed Ramon wiping down the coffee table in the apartment. "Hello Ramon."

"Ah, hello master." Ramon smiled at him, still doing his work. "How was meeting Hershel?"

"Just fine. Where's Bradley?" He asked looking around the room. Then another question came up. "Where's Simon?"

Ramon looked up from the table. "Bradley took him to the store to buy him some paint. He was running low on grass green, white and rutile blue." He explained. "Did you need him?"

"No." Jean shook his head. "Just wondering." He did want to have sex and ignore dinner time, but it would take a while anyway. Oh well, he could wait, he supposed, he just didn't want his mind to wander off to anything that would negatively affect him.

He went to his room and dropped to his bed, his head seemed to hit the pillow with a crash. All of his thoughts seemed to spread around his body as he lied still on the soft covers. He couldn't even believe what he had heard from Ramon, and how it had finally come back to haunt him. He was gone for so long.

What else could he not know? Oh god, what if he was in his house, ready to strike? Of course, that was unlikely, but this stalking issue was full swing in his plans. What else could he do but panic when he was finally alone.

No, he had to stop. He had to think calm, meditate and think of something else. Think of the next thing he was building, or the technicalities of his brothers latest piece or the choreography of the dance. He couldn't scare himself anymore. While he did want he could not to think of his former stepfather, his exhausted body eventually drifted off to sleep.

Francis took a running head start and threw his arms up and then quickly down onto the matt, flinging himself in the air, his body twisting a complete turn, and then landing on his feet. He looked up at the instructor with a smile. "Better?"

"Much, much cleaner." His private gymnastics teacher smiled. Her dark red ponytail swished back and forth as she walked up to him and placed her hands on his arm. "This arm needs to not go like this." She bent it forward to give a demonstration. "Keep it up and straight and keep your back straight, which you did much, much, much better. You've got this down, I think."

"Really?" Cici mumbled up at Miss Alicia, looking excited.

"You have so much talent, Francis." Miss Alicia patted his back. "I've never had a dancer in here that learns so quickly. You've really got a place in the world of Fine Arts." Her freckled lips turned upward as she looked down at him. She was a tall, strong woman with a talent for doing and teaching acrobatics and gymnastics, and Francis's mother knew that he would do just fine with such an experienced teacher, so she hired her to broaden her son's abilities.

Cici smiled and nodded at her. "Thanks Miss Alicia." He did a handstand, still looking up at her. "You think I'm going to be good at his?" He asked still upside down?

Alicia giggled and grabbed his legs, pulling him along and forcing him to walk on his hands across the mat. "I do very much so. How many times do I have to say it? Are you having doubts?"

Cici continued walking and paused before he spoke up again. "Yeah." He said simply.

"Why's that?" She asked and finally walked him up against a wall, holding him there.

"I dunno." He mumbled. "My stepfather thinks I couldn't do it."

Miss Alicia gave a concerned look and then smiled. "Well, you're going to gladly prove him wrong won't you?" She asked excitedly as he fell over to a standing position.

Francis giggled and nodded, as he blood began rushing away from his head. "Yeah!"

..

When Descole woke up, he was utterly confused with his own dream. It was solely a memory of his own experiences with gymnastics that he had forgotten. He forgot about his teacher, Miss Alicia, one of his idols as a child. He wondered what had happened to her.

Then he wondered what time it was and how long he had been asleep. He stretched in bed before he ran his fingers through his hair and stood up to walk out. Then he heard talking.

"Oi! Stop moving!" Simon's voice was demanding.

"Oh, pfft, sorry sitting hurts after a while, yanno!" Bradley's voice sounded almost cockney and slightly messy as he retorted.

"Your bottom can handle it."

"Honestly, Si, I want to get up."

"Please? You can't rush art! I'm almost done."

There was a pause. "Alright."

"Merci, Mon Amour."

His love? Simon just called Bradley his "love". Why did he do that? For some reason, that bothered Jean so much, that he decided to charge out and see what was going on. The sight wasn't anything compromising. Simon had moved his easel in the family room, and Bradley was posed on the couch, his legs up on the couch and his knees to his chest, while holding a drink that looked like a glass of champagne, or prosecco. He wasn't sure, but he knew he had both.

Bradley looked over to Jean and smiled. "Good morning, sunshine." He greeted and realized that it was dark outside. "Or, good evening, starshine." He smiled wider.

"How long was I out?"

Between brush strokes, Simon spoke up after shrugging. "Um, a couple of hours. We debated on waking you but then I wanted to paint Bradley." He gave an excited giggle. "He's a great model."

"Yeah I figure." Jean rolled his eyes. "There's about six of him in the closet, he won't let me hang up."

Bradley clenched his teeth and shook his head. "No, no, no." He said hastily. "Even in Simon's lovely paintings, you are not hanging me up. Please do not do that to me."

"You're so modest." Descole said emotionlessly and walked into the kitchen to make tea.

Simon laughed, staring at his paintings. "I don't want to sell them though. You look too handsome to sell them!" He laughed.

"Then sell 'em to my parents. My mum will buy 'em all!" Bradley laughed and sipped his glass.

Descole, who was staring at the yet-to-be-boiled water, wasn't very pleased with their banter. He never really realized how much those two had been getting along. He originally thought that could have been a good thing, up until his brother called his bedmate a cute pet-name. What could that mean? Could something a lot deeper been going on without his knowing? Maybe his brother had a crush on him. Or vice versa.

Oh lord, maybe they were having sex when Jean wasn't there.

He clenched his fists at the thought and stared into the water more. No. His brother did not love men, he was sure. He was over thinking again, like he always did. And even if it was so, what did it matter? It wasn't like he loved Bradley, he was just his bed warmer. So what if he had other interests? So what if it was his brother?

"Oi, a watched pot never boils." Bradley told him holding his knees with his drink in hand. "Jean? Jean, come back to Earth please."

Descole turned around with a light smile and leaned against the kitchen counter, away from the stove. He sighed. "Sorry. I'm here."

"Are you okay? You sick or something?" Simon asked, not looking up from his canvas.

Descole shook his head. He just needed not to worry about them. Things where okay now and they needed to stay that way. He needed to get back to his plans of his next excavation. He had quite the idea planned for his archaeological missions.

..

"Master, you've got a phone call." Ramon said from the table and raised a suspicious eyebrow, in which Descole gave in return. He grabbed the phone and pressed it to his ear.

It could only be so many people. Jean gave his number to only the important people and his friends so he didn't seem suspicious. He figured it would be Hershel, or someone of that sort. "Hello?"

"Give me back my son."

It was Jerome. Jean froze for a moment on hearing his voice. How could he get his number? That wasn't even possible.

"If I don't see him waiting for me, outside of your house in a week, with his things, I will carry out my threats, your butler conveyed to you. Do you understand me?"

Descole clenched his fist at his side and around the phone and lowered his head. "You listen here, you sick bastard, the last thing you're getting is my baby brother again." His voice was guttural and deep, but he gained all the confidence he could in it. The man was on a phone, not in person, so it was easy to feign that. "So don't call here again and go back to France." And Jean hung up.

"Jerome, Master?" Ramon inquired.

Descole narrowed his eyes. "No." And he walked off into his room, where he passed his brother and his bedmate sitting on the couch and watching the television, laughing and having fun. Being too close.

He shut the door quietly and placed his hands in his hair. There was no way he was going to let his own former stepfather run his life. He was an adult and more importantly, he was supposed to be out of his life years ago. His mother divorced him for that reason. He was supposed to be gone.

He sat up and deeply breathed out. He was alright. There was nothing to worry about and there were bigger things to be concerned with.

Descole took a moment to find his composure, and then he walked out of the room, passed the suspicious love affair on the couch and into the work room, where he started out on the mechanics.

..

So here is the start of the sequel to "Repressed Memories". Okay. So why didn't anyone tell me that Descole's Butler had a name!? I totally didn't know that, and when I started this story, I just gave him a random name, which was Ramon….

…AND LEVEL 5 NAMED HIM RAYMOND. HOW WEIRD.

So, I'm really proud of myself for that. I'm just not changing it to keep things stagnant, yanno, but yes, I know now, he actually has a name. So cool! I feel awesome right about now…

Oh and review nicely all y'all please! Love you!