Disclaimer: Don't own.

On James' first day of school his dad crouched down in front of him and James blinked up at him. He didn't want to go when he woke up, and clung to dad all through breakfast. But getting in the car, James calmed down. In his head James said he wasn't going to cry; he was going to show his dad how brave he was.

'Make me proud, yeah?' dad said, and James saw the smile, making him smile too.

'Yep. Daddy, I need to go inside' James protested, nodding earnestly, swinging the lunchbox and blinking up at his dad.

'I know you do' dad stroked James' hair, a funny look on his face. Dad placed a kiss on his forehead, hugging him tightly, then standing up. 'Off you go. I'll pick you up later. Be good' dad said louder. James said goodbye, waving, and turned around walking slowly to the big gates.

When he turned back around, dad didn't think James could see him, but he could. Dad was crying. Dad was proud of him.

When James was seven, he liked a girl in his class. Her name was Molly. She was nice, kind to him, sat next to him, and quickly became one his best friends.

She helped him in art, he helped her in maths. She was shy but talked a lot to him, so James didn't mind.

They played together in the playground when James saw her sitting on her own on the bench. He left his friend and went over to her. He asked her if she wanted to play with him and they played hopscotch and catch until the bell rang and lunch ended.

In spelling class, they held hands, smiling secretly at each other because no one knew. Her hand was smaller, warmer, James felt happy.

He told his teacher that he wanted to make a card for Molly for her birthday and she helped him. Molly loved the card, went all pink and hugged him in the middle of the playground. He hugged her back. She kissed him on the lips. A little press that made James feel all tingly. His first kiss. Molly danced off to show her other friends James' card.

At the fumbling, slightly awkward, shy age of thirteen, James was shoved into a closet for 'Seven Minutes in Heaven' with a girl who apparently had a crush on him. He was the 'pretty boy' with blond bangs in his eyes, and a secure group of friends.

She was nice, he supposed James never gave it much thought. She was the popular girl in his class who was loud, confident. She had him up against the side of the closet, pawing at him, pressing into him. She was one of the girls who got what she wanted, so James melted and went with the flow.

He was thirteen, hormones all crazy, she had kissed him but he deepened it. With a hand twisted into her brown hair, James took the situation in stride and tried his best. It was wet, fast and all over too quickly as the door was thrown open, the light of the room hitting him. It was quick make out that left James a bit dazed.

James was sixteen when he was kissing a boy a year older than him who hand his hand on James' thigh.

Before this, the boy had been muttering low in his ear, tracing his cheek and making James quiver with need and anticipation.

He was hot with green eyes and short hair, and James had never felt like this for another guy before. Not really, not that you could make anything of it.

For some reason, the boy had set his eyes on James and James had whimpered under his touch. All the girls he'd seen with the boy, all the ones he checked out and flirted with, James was the one moaning into his mouth. With an expert curl of his tongue, nip at his lip sent James on cloud nine.

James broke away, breathing heavily. The boy's eyes were dilated, his gaze predatory and focused entirely on James. So James slipped to his knees, hands on the boy's belt.

The boy's name was Dean… Dean something.

He'd kissed a girl's hand on a Caribbean cruise at a dinner dance in order to try and be gentleman. The girl blushed brightly, giggling behind her other hand and he winked at her. It was at the bottom of the grand staircase, the girl had curly deep red hair and a gorgeous smile. She was English, too, but had spent time in America.

Thinking back, it reminded him of the Titanic. The movie, not the ship obviously.

When he was around his friend Lucy's house, he looked at his watch and his eyes probably went comically wide.

'Shit. I'm late, dad's going to go nuts!'

What he was late for, was a family dinner, and if James didn't show up kind of on time he would never hear the end of it. Lucy just grinned amusedly, kitchen towel in hand.

He shucked on his jacket, rushing over and placing a hasty kiss on the space next to her nose, his balance off. 'Bye' he called, hearing her laugh following him outside.

At the age of eighteen, standing at a bar, sipping a magherita when a man in a dark suit - probably Italian - and carefully styled hair, who was most likely a top CEO or businessman stepped into his space. It was one of those places, a higher class bar, not really James' thing but he was bored. The man was smooth, to the point where he made James squirm in his seat.

'What do you say, can I have you?' he asked, but his grip didn't make it a question, it made it an imperative.

He really didn't want to go, he knew the consequences of going with a random man, late in the evening to God knows where.

'James, sweetheart, you know I don't share' and honestly that made him jump.

Eames stood directly behind him with a sharp smile aimed at the man. James relaxed and leaned back to Eames.

'Sorry, I forgot' Eames threaded his hand in James' hair, twisting his head, kissing James posessively and slowly.

Yeah it was all for show to make the guy go away, but James took what he could get. It was Eames.

The guy left - after a bit - but Eames didn't drop him home, but leaned near him asking:

'Want to come back to my flat? Can I have you?' in a gruff British accent.