More model madness, for ya!

Well, this chapters slightly bitty with a big argument (sorry about that- I'll try to make it right by the end of the fic!), but hopefully much cute as well!

I should just mention right now that I know nothing about the process of producing/editing/printing magazines, so I'm kind of making it up as I go along. If it's blantantly wrong I apologise- I wasn't very careful xD

Well, enjoy!

Leaving his current job didn't prove to be much of a problem- they never provided him with a contract in the first place after all (they hadn't seen the need to, given that he was technically no longer a citizen. Plus the lack of an iron-bound contract made it easier to fire PDS models if they didn't play by the rules). All it had taken was a quick phone call and a brisk exchange with the manager and suddenly he was a free man (or zombie, whatever). He felt a little guilty about ditching Shirley, but she'd have plenty more models coming in to fill his shoes.

He hadn't seen the need to alert his parents to his sudden change in employment just yet. He was still putting on his cover-up and leaving the house every day, and technically he was still going to the studio- just a slightly different one. He'd tell them when he worked out what to say, but for now they really didn't need to know.

Whatever money he was losing out on from quitting his other job, he was slowly making up by putting in extra hours with In The Flesh's graphics department- Simon had wasted no time in hiring him for extra help having found out about his artistic talents from Amy. The department, comprised of the 'beautiful genius' herself (when she had time off from singlehandedly running the wardrobe department) along with her friend Philip, housed a cosy but professional atmosphere, and Kieren found himself settling in right away. He didn't imagine that Philip, warm-blooded human that he was, gained much from working for an independent PDS magazine. But the way he glanced at Amy from across the table made it obvious he wasn't doing it for the social standing.

As for the modelling work… well, it was quite a departure from his last job, to say the least. For a start there were obvious budgetary differences in cameras, lighting, and so on- with the quality of lighting in that studio he was amazed that any of the photos even came out. There was the unusual hours, the eclectic outfits, the minimalist sets (made minimalist by budget rather than stylistic choice).

And then, of course, there was Simon.

June 21st

"Up a bit," he called softly, and Kieren obligingly raised his chin. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on a crack high up on the wall, but in all honesty it was a difficult feat to keep himself focused when he could feel Simon's eyes on him, long looks that sizzled on his skin. Were photographers even allowed to be this distracting? How did he get anything done?

"Perfect, thanks," he said, smirking from behind his camera as the flash went off. "You're a natural."

Kieren rolled his eyes. Two days into the job and the ridiculous man had not stopped flirting once. Another flash went off, followed by a low chuckle. Kieren looked at him questioningly, and got a mischievous grin in return.

"You're cute when you're frustrated," Simon explained with a shrug, snapping another picture of Kieren's quizzical expression.

Kieren raised his eyebrow. "Not all that professional, are yeh?"

Simon frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"Well, for starter's you haven't so much as touched that tripod in two days," Kieren said, gesturing to the disused stand beside the photographer. "Is that just there fer decoration?"

"As you may have already guessed," Simon said, stepping forward to adjust Kieren's hair- the younger man would have damn near blushed if he'd had any blood to do so. It must have been evident on his face heartbeat or no heartbeat, because Simon gave him a devilish grin as he once again raised the camera to his face. "I like the natural look…"

June 24th

"Give it a rest!" Kieren laughed, swatting Amy's hand away as it fussed with his hair.

"Come on, Kier," she chided, giggling at his attempt to brush her off. "Gotta have you looking fab for yer boyfriend!"

"He's not my boyfriend!" Kieren whined, looking to Philip for help but seeing only an amused smile as the timid man watched Amy's laughing face with rapt awe.

"Steamy workplace romance- never knew you were the type!" she teased, fiddling with the strands of his hair, attempting to use the remains of his hair gel from the morning's photo shoot to style it.

"Excuse me," he said indignantly, slapping her hand away and meeting her gaze steadfastly. "I'll have you know that there is nothing going on between me and Simon. I am a model, he is a photographer, and that is it. I am a professional."

With a snooty harrumph he turned back to the chopped up headlines in his hands, staring down at the letters he'd been set the job of arranging on the front cover. His brow furrowed.

"Problem, Mr. Professional?" Amy enquired, peeking over his shoulder with a smirk.

He glared at her darkly, sweeping the sub-header into the bin.

"…Spelled my name wrong."

June 26th

"What's that?" Kieren asked from his perch on the counter, his legs swinging aimlessly beneath him.

Simon froze, and Kieren swore he could see his grip tightening on the envelope in his hand for a second. "What's what?" he said vaguely, tearing open the envelope and spilling the new negatives into his hand.

Kieren had his eyes riveted on his back. Simon had removed his over shirt about half an hour ago- he often did that when he got into his work. But the neck of his white vest top had dipped slightly at the back, and below the dark hole used for Neurotriptyline administration Kieren thought he saw something else…

"On yer back," Kieren clarified.

Simon glanced sideways at him, and Kieren could've sworn he saw fear in his eyes.

"S'nothin'," Simon muttered, tugging self-consciously at the vest until it slid back into position over the mark. Everything about his tone and actions said 'end of conversation'.

June 29th

It was the busiest week of the month for the graphics/editing crew- only made more stressful by the fact that they were still waiting on the last contributions from everywhere else. Kieren himself had one more session with the enigmatic head of photography to cross off the schedule.

For now though, his job consisted of racing around the creaky old building, chasing up deadlines with the ragtag crew of writers, artists and researchers. It was a stressful time for everyone, without a doubt.

But despite the rush, he couldn't help but smile and move along without complaint every time he saw Amy and Philip loitering in hallways, all nervous conversation and lingering looks. He wasn't the type to stand in the way of progress.

July 2nd

"You don't have to do that every day, y'know," Simon mumbled, not looking up as he gently polished the camera lens.

"Yeah, trust me, I do," Kieren muttered, smearing away the thick layer of mousse on his face in preparation for their last shooting session for some time to come. He knew he didn't need it for the photography sessions, but as far as his parents knew he was still shooting for Bazaar. So far he hadn't found a way to break the news that he had become a part of some kind of undead equal rights movement. He needed to work out a way to say it that wouldn't sound like 'I've joined a terrorist organisation' to his paranoid parents (who hadn't even made it so far as accepting that he couldn't eat yet)… So far he was drawing a blank.

He could feel Simon's eyes on his back, but didn't give it much thought until he heard his footsteps. The Irish man crept up quietly behind him, tapping his shoulder politely. As Kieren turned around he met his gaze, and a small, understanding smile crossed his face.

"May I?" He said, gesturing to the cloth in Kieren's hand.

Kieren nodded mutely, feeling Simon's fingers brush against his own as he took the cloth from his unresisting hand. He felt Simon's fingers beneath his jaw, gently lifting his face as he dabbed away the thick mask, taking more care and time than Kieren had ever done. His eyes didn't leave his face once.

Kieren reached up, lifting away the contacts and blinking at the raw, exposed sensation it left in his dry eyes. When they fully opened and his vision focused he was once again greeted by the sight of Simon, their eyes meeting across the short distance. Simon's hand hovered by his face, the orange-stained cloth dangling from his fingers.

He grinned, wiping away the last speck of mousse and handing the cloth back, his hand lingering just a little longer than necessary near his. The hand on his jaw moved down to his shoulder, gripping gently at the base of his neck.

"S'like watching you come alive," he murmured.

With a parting smile and a pat on the shoulder, he turned his back and returned his attention to the beaten-up camera.

Kieren lifted his fingers to his face, the tips brushing against exposed skin, and smiled.

July 7th

"Come on, come on!" Amy squeaked, tugging Kieren's hand forcefully.

"Where are we going?" Kieren complained, wincing as she elbowed her way through the busy morning crowds and sent several bags and arms slapping into his face.

"You'll see!" She giggled.

Kieren rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to be towed along. He'd learned long ago that there was really no point in fighting Amy on stuff like this- if there was something she wanted him to see, he'd see it.

Suddenly, she turned round and stomped behind him, raising her hands to cover his eyes. "No peeking!"

"Don't even know what I'm peeking at…" he grumbled, allowing her to steer him forwards a little, turning him with a nudge to his shoulder. When she brought them to a standstill he waited patiently for her to remove her hands.

Nearly thirty seconds later, and he thought it was time to speak up.

"Uh, Amy?" he asked, nudging her hand. "Can I look yet?"

"Oh, sorry!" she laughed, dropping her hands. "Too excited, forgot! Ta-dah!"

It took him a moment to realise what he was looking at. Then it hit him like a freight train.

He stared into the window of the small newsagent's she'd pushed him up to, blinking at the sight of his uncovered face gazing back at him from one of the magazines in the storefront display. Obviously he'd seen his face printed places before, but this was something else entirely.

"Oh," he said, still wrapping his head around it. "Wow. Y'know, I think a part of me thought it'd never get published."

Amy hummed, looping her arm through his and leaning against his shoulder. "Well, better believe it, Buster! Si was up all night picking the right one- determined to get it just right, 'e was!" she waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Poor boy's smitten!"

"He's not smitten," Kieren droned, defaulting to defensiveness. His eyes remained on the block of small print at the base of the cover. Production credits. His name was there, along with Philip's and Amy's. The name of their publisher, their editor. Their photographer.

"Huh," he murmured thoughtfully. "So his last name's Monroe…"

July 10th

With the latest issue done and the next still too early in the production to require models or editors, Kieren found himself with the week off. A week he had absolutely no idea what to do with.

Well, at least that's how it was until his phone beeped.

He looked up from the charcoal drawing beneath his fingers (surprise, surprise, it had turned into Simon) with a frown, reaching over with blackened fingers to pick up the phone. One new text.

Bored?

Amy. He laughed, firing off a reply.

How did you guess?

The response came within seconds. Somehow that girl could type at the speed of sound.

I'm psychic. Picnic in the park? X

He glanced out the window. Rain was pouring- he'd be drenched in seconds.

You sure about that?

Unfortunately, she knew how to convince him.

Simon's coming. X

He glared at the screen. She had his attention, and she knew it. Muttering under his breath, he sent one last reply as he pulled on his coat.

You're evil. Fine. There in 10.

July 15th

'Day trips' with Amy became more and more frequent. The four of them- Philip and Simon included- seemed to meet up nearly every day they weren't working. Often there was no real plan or schedule to stick to, more often than not Amy would just pick a location or an activity and then they'd see where the day went from there.

On that first day where the tradition had started, a picnic in the rain had quickly turned to four grown adults jumping in puddles, kicking water at each other and giggling like six year-olds. Even Simon had got involved, now that had been surprising. He supposed Amy just had a way of bringing people's fun sides out.

Now it was half past eleven in the morning, and Kieren woke blearily to the sun streaming through his window. He frowned. There was something he was supposed to remember…

He sat up, his head pounding. He wasn't hung-over, or at least not in the traditional sense (they couldn't even drink, after all), but he'd managed it somehow. He remembered sheep's brains being involved. And loud music.

A concert, that was it. They went to see… ugh, he doesn't even know, some boisterous indie band he'd never heard of and probably never would again. It had been Amy's idea.

Something else he needed to remember. Actually, two more things.

The first he found when he leaned over and saw a sleeping Simon sprawled out across the floor, inky hair in disarray and snoring gently. Yes, he'd slept over, that was right- because his apartment was nearly two hours away and they both had to be awake for…

His eyes widened, and he snapped his gaze to the clock. Eleven thirty-six. Shit. That was the second thing.

"Simon, wake up!" He said, voice croaky from lack of use. When Simon didn't budge he reached behind his back and grabbed his pillow, chucking it at the sleeping man's head.

Simon woke with a start, propping himself on his elbows and blinking at his unfamiliar surroundings. "Kieren?" he rasped, shaking his head against the pounding sheep brain hangover.

"Si, we have to get up," Kieren urged, prodding the Irish man with his foot as he passed on his way to the wardrobe. "It's half eleven!"

"So?" he grumbled, throwing an arm over his face to block out the sunlight.

"So, it's the fifteenth!" Kieren snapped exasperatedly, grabbing the nearest shirt he could find and yanking it on.

Simon stared at him blankly for a moment before realisation dawned.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed, leaping from the floor and teetering slightly on unsteady feet as he snapped his braces on over his shoulders and struggled into his coat. "Planning meeting, fuck it!"

Despite the panic, Kieren couldn't help but laugh as the photographer nearly toppled over in his attempts to pull on his shoes. "Come on, we're gonna be late!" he said, picking up his neurotriptyline from the bedside table and gesturing impatiently. Simon knelt behind him on the bed, hastily injecting his dose before turning round and allowing him to do the same. When they were both topped up Kieren grabbed Simon's arm and dragged him towards the door, propelling him out into the hallway before he even had a chance to button his shirt. The dark-haired man took off at a sprint without so much as tying his shoes- well, he might break his neck but at least he couldn't die again.

"Kieren?" his mother exclaimed as he barrelled past, sparing a wide-eyed glance for the pale-faced Irish man before he launched himself through the front door.

"Sorry, Mum, can't talk now," Kieren said, ducking down to give her a hasty peck on the cheek as he grabbed his jacket from the hook. "I'm off- see you later!"

He was out the door before she could protest.

It wasn't until he dived into Simon's car and glanced in the wing mirror that he realised that he hadn't covered his face.

Kieren waved until he saw Simon's car disappear round the corner, the smell of cigarette smoke lingering in his nostrils. At least they were both immune to lung cancer now.

When the hum of the engine finally faded into silence, he turned to the house with a sigh. Time to face the music. His hand wondered to his face, still bare as the day he rose. Simon had been staring at it all day. Ridiculous man- how was he supposed to concentrate in the planning meeting with that bloody stare giving him butterflies in his stomach?

Not that he was particularly necessary to the meetings- in the end Amy was in charge of the graphics department and Simon was head of photography, really there was no call for an art assistant/model to be present. But Simon had insisted, and it wasn't until the papers had been spread across the table that he knew why.

"Told'ja you were a natural," he'd whispered, pushing the sales graph across the table towards him with a smirk. The enormous spike in sales figures was hard to argue against.

His feet dragged as he approached the door, his hand hovering over the knob. He couldn't put it off forever. Today was the day.

With a deep breath to bolster his resolve, he turned the handle and entered the house.

The only sound in the building came from the dining room, his family sat around the table in hushed conversation (which fell silent as soon as the front door slammed, so it was pretty obvious what they were talking about). He stepped into the light, and three pairs of eyes immediately fixed on him.

Jem took one look at his bare face and stood up, chair scraping back as she stomped upstairs. Sue looked after her sadly, but made no attempt to call her back. There wouldn't be any point.

"Something you want to tell us, Son?" Steve asked, eyes on his mottled skin.

Kieren nodded, gulping against the anxiety clawing its way up his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, and I should have told you ages ago I just…"

"You just what?" Steve prodded, shaking his head as he stared at Kieren's milky eyes. "What is it yer doing, Kier? Not got yerself roped in with those extremists and whatnot, have yer? Is it that girl- Amy something?"

"What? No, Dad, it's nothing like-!"

"We're just worried about yer, Son," he said, glancing at Sue for confirmation and receiving a small nod in return. "You've been off out more, we don't even know where yer going half the time- you even still going to that job of yers?"

Kieren winced. "Well, yeah, in a way…"

"Well, what's that s'posed to mean?"

Kieren sighed, running a hand through his hair. "All right, look- I quit that job, okay?"

"Why?" Sue asked, eyes wide. "Where've you even been going, then?"

"I got a new one!" Kieren explained hurriedly. "With Simon- that bloke who was 'ere this morning? He's a photographer!"

"Why was 'e here?" Steve demanded, eyes narrowing. "You always invite the boss out for sleepovers, do yer?"

"No, it's not like that…" Kieren sighed, not knowing how to explain- especially considering how fast his relationship with Simon was coming to be 'like that'. It may be the truth now but he had no idea how long for. "Look, we both had a meeting early this morning, we were out late, his place is a fair bit further away so I said he could sleep on me floor, that's all."

"Why were yer out late?" Sue asked.

"Amy dragged us to this concert out by-"

"Thought yeh said Amy weren't involved?" Steve interrupted. "Yer said it were nothing to do with 'er a minute ago."

"No, she works with me, but it's nothing cult related or whatever it is yer thinking," Kieren clarified. "S'nothing like that, it's just a magazine- same job I had before, different company."

"And different rules, by the looks of it," Steve said, gesturing vaguely to his face. "Where's yer…?"

Ah. Now he was getting to the point. Kieren couldn't help glaring a little. "Don't need it. It's a PDS magazine, they don't care what my face looks like."

"You've been wearing it whenever we see yeh," Sue said quietly.

"Didn't wanna worry yer," Kieren mumbled, leaning against the doorway and picking at a splinter. "'Sides, I knew you'd do something like…"

"Something like what?" Steve asked, face hard.

"Something like this!" Kieren snapped, gesturing at them both in their positions at the table. "Christ, I go one day without cover-up and suddenly it's the Spanish Inquisition!"

"Oi, language!" Steve said, just a loudly. "Calm down, Son, we're just worried about yer- we don't know anything about these folks you work with, what kind of ideas they could be puttin' in yer head-!"

"I can think for myself, Dad!" Kieren shouted, stepping forward and slamming his palm against the table, causing his parents to flinch back. "You always treat me like I'm still some naïve kid who has to 'ave someone to follow- I'm twenty-three, fer Christ sake! I know I don't look it, I know I'm gonna just look the same for ever and ever, and I'm sorry it's come down to that, but I can take control of my own life!"

The sound of heavy bass filtered down through the ceiling as Jem turned her music up- no doubt trying to drown out the din.

Kieren took a deep breath, dragging his voice down to a lower decibel level. "It's my life," Kieren said, meeting his father's gaze across the table. "And I'm not gonna waste it a second time."

Steve looked down at his son's hand, clenched in a fist on the table, and gulped. "I'm just concerned for this family's safety."

Kieren felt like the ground had fallen away beneath his feet. He stared disbelievingly at his father, searching his eyes for a hint of a lie and finding none.

"…Yer scared of me?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I am," Steve said without hesitation. "I'll admit it, when yer acting like this."

"Acting like what?"

"I don't even recognise yeh anymore," Steve said.

"This is who I am!" Kieren exclaimed, gesturing angrily to his pale face with a scowl. "All I've ever done is pretend for you, I tried to fit in with you when yer brought me back but I just can't live like this anymore- it was fine when I thought this was all there was, but…" he shook his head, thinking of Simon and the way he savoured every glance of his natural skin, and Amy's unwavering support. How could he possibly go back to the way it was before?

"I can't. I'm sorry, I just…" he couldn't even complete the thought before he was out of the room and up the stairs, leaving his stunned parents in his wake.

He didn't need much, he thought as he grabbed the empty suitcase from under his bed and slammed it down on the mattress. Some clothes, his sketchbook, his medication, a few keepsakes from the shoebox full of memories under his bed. It took him less than five minutes to pack. He thought about knocking on Jem's door to say his goodbyes, but he knew she wouldn't want to see him right now. He would call her later- he swore it to himself. He wouldn't leave her without a word again.

A few minutes and a few shouted words with his parents later, and he was walking away into the glow of the late afternoon sun- stiff limbs trudging and splashing through puddles, his life in a bag at his side and his eyes fixed on the dark mass of the distant city.

Simon hadn't bothered going home after he'd dropped Kieren off at his house. There was still plenty of work to be done, after all- he'd had his orders for the month, time to get cracking.

He flicked through the photos and negatives, the same red-haired, doe-eyed face peering out from every shot (he had no idea how the boy managed to be doe-eyed even with nothing but pinprick pupils, but somehow he pulled it off). He knew the kind of stories he was shooting for now, the themes and articles he needed to supply for, and he already knew exactly which model he was using for as many as management would allow.

He was hovering in a trance state somewhere between formulating shots and fawning over the familiar face when he heard a timid knock on the studio door. He frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall- nearly seven thirty. Not many people called on him this late in the day.

He stood up and walked towards the door, sliding the bolt across and pulling it open with a creak.

"Kieren?" he said quietly, eyes widening as he saw the suitcase in his hand and the haunted look in his eyes. "Kier, what's wrong?"

The boy didn't answer. Instead he dropped his bag, stepping forward to press his head against Simon's shoulder and wrap his arms around his waist. He leaned heavily against him, breathing deeply against his collar and bunching his fingers in his shirt.

For a few long seconds, Simon forgot how to breathe. At least he didn't need the oxygen.

But when Kieren showed no signs of backing away, he slowly lifted his own arms to drape around his shoulders, one hand sliding up to weave through his hair. He let his eyes flutter closed, taking a deep breath and feeling the subtle aroma of shampoo and oil paint wash over him.

"Sorry," Kieren whispered, loosening his grip on the Irish man's waist.

"S'all right," Simon chuckled, taking one last deep breath before Kieren pulled away. "No complaints this end."

Kieren smiled at him, his hands reaching up to straighten his shirt where his face and rumpled the fabric.

Simon watched him carefully, cocking his head to the side. "What happened?"

"Oh, y'know," Kieren said, shrugging. "Parents."

Simon nodded, brushing the hair out of Kieren's eyes. "Anything I can do?"

Kieren smiled weakly. "Can I sleep on yer floor for a few days?"

"Don't be thick- no model o' mine's sleeping on the floor," Simon said with a grin, ruffling the coppery mop. "Couch is all yours. As long as you need it."

"Thanks, Simon," Kieren murmured, looking down at his hands as his fingers twined uneasily.

With a quiet laugh, Simon picked up his bag and took it over to the counter, placing gently besides the sheaf of negatives. He picked up his camera from the desk and looked at Kieren with a smile.

"Come on," he said, walking back over and holding out his hand to the confused man. "Let's go somewhere."

Kieren raised his eyebrow, but took his hand anyway. "Where?"

Simon shrugged, pulling the door shut behind them. "Wherever the evening takes us."

"Put that thing away!" Kieren laughed as another loud click sounded.

"Never!" Simon grinned, once again raising the camera to his face. "Don't wanna miss a second."

"I'm not even dressed fer it, Si!" Kieren pointed out, gesturing to his tattered jumper and baggy jeans. Another click.

"Doesn't matter," Simon said with a wink. "Nice clothes, bad clothes, no clothes- anything looks good on yeh, gorgeous!"

Kieren raised his eyebrow. "Oh yeah- and how would you know?"

Simon shrugged. "I can dream."

Kieren laughed, leaning against the railing as he heard another snap of the shutter. Somehow they'd ended up on a pier by the Thames, looking out across the murky water as the setting sun cast its orange light. Simon had been snapping pictures for the last half an hour as they walked, waxing lyrical about the way the light shone on his hair and glowed in his eyes. Sometimes he wondered if the dark-haired man had been a poet in his past life.

He leaned against a lamppost, grinning as he heard more tell-tale clicks. "Pack it in!" he laughed, attempting to give Simon an exasperated look, but he was too amused to put much venom into it.

Simon just beamed, clicking again. "Come on, you love it! Turn to face us, will yeh?"

Kieren rolled his eyes, but he couldn't resist that little smile. He turned round to face the grinning Irish man, smiling into the camera as more clicks and whirs rang out from the clunky device.

"Yeah, that's it," Simon encouraged, laughing as Kieren pulled more ridiculous faces at the camera. The funny faces lasted until the boy was laughing too hard to continue, and even then the pictures kept coming. Simon couldn't help it- every look on the fair-haired man's face shone brighter than the burning sun.

"Beautiful," he murmured, grinning as Kieren approached with a soft smile on his lips and the deep orange light shining on his wide eyes and long lashes. He knew the picture he took to capture the moment would forever be one of his favourites.

"Hey, Simon," Kieren said quietly, dragging the Irish man's attention away from the camera screen.

"Yeah?"

Kieren stood in front of him, his hands gliding up to rest lightly on Simon's chest. "Thank you."

Simon smiled, lowering the camera in one hand and covering Kieren's with the other. "What for?"

Kieren couldn't stop the grin that broke across his face.

For being here. For being my friend. For making me smile- making me laugh, no less. For always seeing the best in me when I can't see it myself. For making me feel comfortable in my own skin for the first time in both my lives.

He leaned in, fingers curling around Simon's lapels.

"Everything."

He closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together and feeling Simon freeze in a moment of surprised hesitation before eagerly returning the kiss. He felt hands cup his face, stroke his cheeks, wind through his hair with movements so gentle he thought for sure his deadened nerve endings should have just ignored them completely. But there they were, clear as day, and the care with which the confident man handled him made his dead heart want to burst from his chest.

They melted together in the lazy heat of the setting summer sun, cold fingers twining idly with fire simmering beneath the surface. As he wrapped his free arm around Simon's neck and felt the man sigh against his lips, a fresh wave of sensation washed over him.

This is what it was to be alive.

No one can spell Kieren's name. Not even Kieren.

Now, I know I said this was going to be three chapters long but it might go up to five depending on how the next chapter goes- thinking about it, there's probably more I want to write. But I'm not promising anything until the next chapter's out!

Anyway, hope you enjoyed- prior warning, the next chapter's going to contain a bit of angst born from serious prejudice against PDS sufferers. It's quite an important aspect, and while I like the idea of a lovely big heap of fluff for a fic I thought it was too important to ignore.

Until next time!