Nick looked at his watch and frowned. He'd been at Dalton nearly a week, yet he'd hardly seen Jeff other than on his first day. Not feeling entirely comfortable around the blonde, Nick had decided to go an alternate route, deciding that Jeff's input wasn't crucial to taking him down. After all, the other guys had to know something.

Unfortunately, asking around only resulted in a telling-off by Aaron who told him to "fuck off and stop being nosy," and a much more subdued, "Jeff plans everything, really. We don't know what we're gonna do until he tells us," from Cord.

Nick knew President Sylvester would want a report soon, but he hadn't seen a single phone in the entire mansion, and had no other way to contact her. She's gonna kill me, the brunette determined, she's gonna yell at me through that big ass microphone, and then she's gonna kill me.

Nick was brought from his thoughts as he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders and pull him in slightly. "Hey Brock," he greeted automatically. Despite his constant self-reminders that he couldn't get too close to anyone—that he was on a mission—Nick found himself grow incredibly attached to the boy. He looked up and smiled, "Whoa,"

"You like?" Brock asked, holding his hands out appraisingly. The brunette's glasses had been replaced with contacts and his normally gelled hair let free, tousled slightly.

"Damn," Nick murmured, "You look—you look good, man."

He smiled. "Thanks. Hey, you wanna hang out later?"

"Dude, we're roommates. Aren't you sick of me yet?"

Brock laughed. "Nah, I could never get sick of you," he added softly.

Nick blushed. "Shoot, I gotta go. I'll see ya later."

Nodding, Brock dropped his hand and waved. "Catch ya later."

Nick half ran, half walked down the stairs. What the hell was that? You're not supposed to get close to anyone here. You've got a job to do, remember? He chided himself. Destroy Jeff, that's all you have to do, and you're golden. He paused, Jeff's face coming to his mind unbidden. Jeff's face with his silky locks and his warm hazel eyes and his—no, stop it! He told himself, you can't fall for anyone here, and him of all people!

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he stumbled into someone, nearly knocking them over. Looking up, he realized it was Jeff. Fuck. "Sorry, I wasn't—I didn't mean—" he stuttered, unable to meet the blonde's eyes.

"No biggie," Jeff shrugged, licking his lips self consciously.

Nick found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the blonde's mouth. "I gotta go," he managed to say before tearing down the hall. Jeff grinned slightly; by the end of the week, Nick would be his.

…

"Hey Nick!" a familiar voice rang out. Turning around, Nick saw he had pushed past Cord in his efforts to escape Jeff. "You okay? You look pretty freaked."

Nick shook his head. "Just a lot of shit." Cord nodded his head in understanding, and they fell into a comfortable silence.

Nick's head, however, was anything but quiet.

The brunette needed information and he needed it fast. The only thing he'd really discovered from his first week was that: a) there was an underground tunnel, b) Jeff was 18, and c) Jeff was hot. Nick nearly tripped over his feet. Where did that come from? he wondered. I mean, it's true…but still. He frowned. Nick was slowly realizing that he would have to get close to Jeff if he wanted to learn anything useful, and there seemed to be only one way to do so.

Despite his previous promises that he'd never have sex for personal gain again, it appeared to be his only real option. It'll be just sex, he told himself, It won't be anything else.

With a slight hesitation, Nick looked up, "Say, Cord, uh, how long does one usually wait until…y'know…"

Cord looked over at him curiously. "What?"

Goddammit, Nick thought, with a sudden burst of anger, screw formalities. "Sex, Cord. When can I ask him for it?"

Cord snickered. "Didn't think you had it in you, man."

Nick shrugged. "It's just sex," he said, with much more ease than he felt.

He whistled. "Whoa. Most guys here aren't like that. They want his love, but sex is all he'll give 'em, and they're desperate so they take whatever they can get." He studied Nick carefully. "So you just want sex and nothing more? You don't want to hold hands as you walk or watch movies and cuddle or any of that shit?"

Nick swallowed, the thought of doing any of that with Jeff strangely pleasing. "No."

"Alright," Cord nodded apprehensively.

…

Jeff was in the training room, beating the crap out of a punching bag when Cord found him. "Whassup?" he asked, pulling out his headphones, his chest heaving slightly.

"You know that new kid?"

"Nick?" Jeff blurted out before he could stop himself.

If Cord was surprised, he didn't show it. He'd learned a long time ago that emotions could be the end of him. "Yeah, him. He wants sex, though."

Jeff tuned back towards the punching bag. "Like that's any news," he scoffed, "They all do."

"No," Cord argued, moving in front of him. "He doesn't want you; just sex."

Jeff stopped. "What?" he asked, his voice soft and dangerous.

Cord stepped back slightly, sensing the tension in Jeff's eyes. "I dunno either. Kid's weird." He took a few steps back, waiting for Jeff's permission to leave, practically sprinting when it was given.

Jeff was thankful that the gym was nearly empty and he took out his new-found frustration on the punching bag. Why didn't Nick like him? And more importantly: why did he care?