A/N: Sorry guys. I've been really busy in my life at the moment. I just moved out with my boyfriend, so that was an ordeal. But I'm finally back, living comfortably with internet and everything hooked up. To get back on track, and as a sort of "apology", I'm uploading a huge chapter. Please make sure to review if you want to stay in my good books (jk!). Thanks to all that reviewed, and a very BIG thanks to the readers who followed me onto my FictionPress account. It means a lot to me!

After the bet, Greg felt pretty confident he had everything in the bag. All he had to do was keep wearing the sweater – no matter how bad it got – and Rodrick would be his slave in no time. What would he make him do, if he won? Greg knew that the Rodrick wouldn't do anything like chores, no matter how much Greg tossed it in his face that he had to do whatever he said. So Greg would only be allowed to ask for what he truly wished for; more time with his older brother.

The next morning Greg wore a black hoodie and zipped it up to his chin while ignoring the comments of his parents - yet again - at the breakfast table. "Greg, it's boiling out there!"

"Yea little brother, I'd take off that sweater if I were you," Rodrick sneered as he grabbed two pop tarts out of the toaster. Greg shot a glare at Rodrick, and if looks could kill, Greg decided that his profession would be staring.

"No. Thanks." His jaw clenched, and it was only a moment later that the two Heffley brothers were leaving. "What's your deal? You know I can't take this off!" the younger brother hissed as he walked around the van to the passenger's seat.

"Sorry, does it look like I want to be your slave?" Rodrick asked, pointing to his rather amused expression. "I'm not going to make this easy for you."

Greg's mouth hung open as his feet lifted to the dash. "That's cheating – " he accused. "It's not fair!"

"Life's not fair. What are you going to do about it?" Rodrick pressed, turning to frown at the younger brother. Greg grew hot in the face at the injustice of it all. "Going to tell Mom?" he continued, to which Greg shook his head slowly. "Thought so. Suck it up."

It wasn't until 1 o'clock that Greg remembered he had Phys Ed that afternoon outside in the field - which meant that he would have to take off his sweater and change into his gym clothes in the boy's locker room. Panicking, Greg grabbed Rowley and pulled him behind some lockers during their fifteen minute break and explained the situation.

"Why would you agree to slave rules?" Rowley asked, also now panicking since there was only five minutes left on break after the explanation. "Let me see the bruise, how bad is it?" Greg hurriedly pulled up the sleeve of his sweater and turned his bruise to face Rowley. In itself, the bruise was still a black blob with sickening purple finger marks jutting out. Against the bright white of the t-shirt Greg wore in his gym class it would be extremely noticeable. "It does look bad, but Greg I don't know what you're going to do! We're going to be late if we don't hurry."

Greg began a sprint with Rowley towards the other end of the school where the gymnasium was located. "Don't you – have any – extra clothes?" Rowley shook his head, eyes stricken with sympathy. The only thing Greg could do was try and reason with the gym teacher. "Coach!" Greg said, running up to the man standing stock-legged in the middle of the gymnasium.

"What is it, Heffley?" Coach Malone drawled, eyeing the kids running around and taking attendance on a clipboard as he spotted each student.

"Well, uh, can I keep this sweater on?"

Coach Malone eyed Greg behind his clipboard, appraising the younger boy's sweater. "Why?"

Under the stare of this adult, Greg had to reach deep for the courage he never usually had. "Because, I've got chills, and – " It was sounding lame already. Maybe he'd already messed it up for himself; now if Coach ever did see the bruise, he'd know that Greg had been trying to hide it. Realizing this risky game he'd played, Greg froze.

"And?" Coach Malone prompted, but then the buzzer rang and kids were already heading to circle around the gym teacher. "Whatever Heffley. I can't tell you what to wear. Next time, you don't have to ask."

Despite the fact that Greg felt he was in a sauna, the phys-ed class was actually okay. He'd survived another day, and it was easier than expected. Only later, in their last period, did Rowley bring up the bruise again.

"You know, Greg. I've been thinking, maybe Rodrick's just trying to psych you out," the wider boy began as the two began to work on the assignment they'd just been handed.

Greg wrote his name neatly at the top of the page before staring at his best friend quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Well, think about it," Rowley suggested, taking out a text book and propping it open along the desk. "Rodrick is in a pretty bad situation. On one hand, he could win the bet by having your mother find out about the bruise – meaning he'd be grounded, but you'd be his slave. On the other hand, he could lose the bet, become your slave, but still not be punished. Maybe he wants you to win."

Greg tried following along as Rowley explained. When the other boy was finished, Greg sighed miserably into his arms. "Why didn't I think of that?" It was very well possible that Rodrick had been lying earlier that morning.

"Does it look like I want to be your slave?"

At the time, no. But with the tiny bit of confidence he'd now gained, Greg was willing to bet that he really did have it in the bag. He was over the bruise, whether Rodrick had a reason or not. Finally, after months of enduring the rocky relationship, Greg was on his way to spending quality time with his older brother.

He'd do whatever it took.

A week later, Greg was sure he was going to die from over exhaustion. The sweaters were taking their toll as the temperatures climbed higher and higher each day. The younger Heffley brother remained diligent night and day to keep the bruises covered – the only ones knowing being Rodrick and Rowley – but even he was ready to admit defeat if it meant he could stop sweating so profusely.

"Greg, if you're so hot just take that sweater off!" Holly said for the millionth time that lunch hour. Greg had forced his two friends to sit in a shaded crevice of the school that bordered on a sort of ravine.

Rowley - wanting Greg to win the bet as much as Greg himself - did not question this odd behaviour. But it was getting harder and harder to come up with lame excuses lately, and at that moment Greg felt ready to burst. The sweat, the bruise, even the way that Rodrick had avoided him nearly the whole week – it was weighing an awful lot right now.

"You should come over to my place this weekend," Holly suddenly suggested. "I've got air conditioning. You too, Rowley!"

Greg's drowsy eyes locked onto Holly's and he couldn't help but smile at the way she was beaming expectantly at him. A dull ache in his chest began as he took all of her warmth in – not that he needed much more, mind you.

"I'd love to."

After his shower, Greg stood in front of the bathroom mirror and began his daily inspection of the bruise. Luckily, the majority of the blackness had faded in the first few days. At present, the bruise was nothing more than a rather oddly shaped yellow splotch. Greg guessed it would probably be gone by the end of the weekend, and with this he rejoiced.

Opening the bathroom door, Greg had fully intended to march straight across the hall, to his room to get dressed for bed – but instead he smacked into something hard.

"Ah, little brother. How's that bruise doing?" Rodrick called loudly.

The rare chances that Greg did see his brother, he was always mentioning the bruise. Probably to do just as Rowley had guessed; psych him out. But knowing better, Greg remained perfectly calm. "It's doing much better thanks," Greg spat as his parents laughter floated up the stairs from the living room below. They were preoccupied with their late night television programming, so Greg knew they couldn't spare the time to eavesdrop just yet.

Rodrick grinned wickedly and leaned against the doorframe, effectively preventing Greg from leaving just yet. Not that the younger Heffley brother wanted to anyway. He spent the majority of his time trying to spend time with Rodrick. Any conversation was a good conversation because it meant that Rodrick wasn't ignoring him.

"Honestly, you've been doing a really good job. I'm surprised. I thought your whole "sweater plan" was pretty lame. There was no way you'd last. You must really like me, huh?"

Greg could feel his face burning quickly. Of course he liked Rodrick! The older brother was ridiculously cool – at least to Greg anyway. When they hung out, Greg didn't feel like the baby Rodrick usually treated him like. Obviously there were things he hated about Rodrick too, but in the recent months Greg had found that it hadn't bothered him so much. Remembering the good times they had seemed to outweigh all of the bad.

And there was a lot of bad.

"You're my brother, of course I like you."

Rodrick raised an eyebrow. "Even after I did this to you?" A long finger pointed towards Greg's arm where the bruise was still relatively noticeable.

Greg shrugged. "I don't care." Well, that wasn't entirely true. But lately the bruise seemed so insignificant compared to what it had caused; a chance for Greg and Rodrick to be brothers.

Smiling, Rodrick finally lifted away from the door frame and took a step forward to Greg, who darted around the older brother swiftly. "You shouldn't say that. I don't want to think of what else I can get away with."

Trading places, Greg now looked back at Rodrick somewhat confused. "What?"

"Don't worry about it."

"If I were you, I'd tell your mother right away. Rodrick's jerking you around for his own amusement, Greg!"

Maybe it hadn't been the best idea to tell Rowley what Rodrick had said earlier. But the eight-grader was having enough trouble on his own trying to figure out the meaning of the words from earlier. A little outside perspective would help – or so Greg had thought as he brought it up to his best friend who was settling in on an air mattress on his floor.

"No. I don't think he'd go to these lengths just to jerk me around," Greg replied seriously. "I think he's serious, you know, about this whole slave thing. I'm beginning to think he really will suck up being grounded just to have the satisfaction of making me do whatever he wanted."

There was a small silence as Greg's words hung heavily in the darkness of the room. "Isn't there a word for people like him?" Rowley asked finally.

"Yea, probably."

A small sigh escaped from Rowley. "I'm so glad I don't have brothers."

It was Saturday afternoon when Holly phoned Greg's house and the mayhem truly began. Greg's mother had answered the phone in a delightfully exasperated tone while she sprawled across the rug in the living room playing with Manny. Greg and Rodrick were strewn on the couch sweating in the heat – Greg much more than the other due to the heavy clothing he was wearing.

When her eyes brightened, Greg knew he was in a terrible situation. Sure enough, she asked who was calling, and the answer sent her into a terribly uncharacteristic girlish fit. She all but thrust the phone into Greg's hand hissing, "It's Holly!" and she waited with bated breath as Greg slowly held the handset to his ear.

"Hello?" Greg asked, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt as he realized not only was his mother watching him intently, but so was Rodrick. Did his whole family have nothing better to do than to watch him talk to a girl? Greg was pretty sure his mother had never acted this way whenever Rodrick had girls call the house.

"Hi Greg! It's Holly."

Even through the phone, the young girl's voice was bright and crisp and it seemed to cool Greg down a lot, even in the sweltering heat he was suffering through.

"Hey, what's up?" Greg asked, purposely making stubborn eye contact with the table lamp and successfully avoiding the penetrating stares of his family.

"Well I was just wondering if you and Rowley wanted to come over today, like I mentioned. We've got a pool, and I think it's as hot a day as ever..."

As Holly trailed off, Greg couldn't believe his lucky stars. Perhaps it was karma to the fact that he had suffered all week long; a sort of pay out for the endless hours he'd spent at school and home, sweating through the majority of the summer.

But just as soon as he'd rejoiced, the immediate fear fell onto Greg's shoulders heavily. On one hand, he had just been invited over to Holly's place – for a swim no less – yet on the other was Rodrick's bruise. At that very moment, Greg felt a little torn, and the hesitation was clear to the girl on the other end of the line.

"I mean, you don't have to... I talked to Rowley and he said he would come if you did."

Unable to control himself, Greg snuck a low glance at Rodrick, who was leaning interestedly forward – just like their mother – trying to catch snippets of the conversation. Greg's chest tightened. Was he really going to have to choose between them?

"Sorry. It sounds really fun, Holly, but –" here Greg thought as quickly as he ever had, knowing his audience was captivated, " – my swimming shorts don't fit anymore. How about we go see a movie?"

Greg's mother looked extremely puzzled. "But I thought I just bought you a new pair last summer..." she wondered.

Covering the mouthpiece with one hand, Greg shook his head. "No, they're too small."

Holly chuckled lightly through the handset. "Oh, that's too bad! Maybe another time, and can I call you back about the movie? I'll have to ask my parents."

"Sure," Greg said, at the same time his mother shook her head and clucked her tongue at him.

"You boys are growing up too fast. Stop it."

"Alright, I'll talk to you soon!"

Greg barely had a chance to say goodbye before the phone was snatched from his hands so quick he didn't really have time to register what had happened. "Greg's got a date!" Rodrick shouted happily, tossing the phone across the room and wrapping Greg in his arms and legs.

Greg's mother burst into tears, joining in on the unexpected group hug. "Your first date..." she sobbed quietly into her son's hair. "I – I have to tell your father!" Without another word, she ran out of the room and up the stairs, leaving the three Heffley brothers alone.

"Maybe all your gross sweat attracted her in the end. In which case you owe thanks to me," Rodrick teased, finally shoving Greg out of his grasp and standing up.

"Shut up, Rodrick," Greg growled, crossing his arms and sinking further into the couch from embarrassment. The whole thing had definitely not been what he had expected. In his day dreams, the moment he asked Holly out wouldn't be as a condolence to not being able to swim in her pool – nor was half his family present for everything.

"We have a lot of work to do, little bro. You can't go looking like that." Rodrick leaned forward, both hands outstretched, and for a moment Greg wondered exactly what he was trying to do.

Then as soon as the older brother's fingers curled around the hem of Greg's sweater, a bolt of understanding shot through his body. "Get away from me!" Greg shouted, struggling away from Rodrick's tight hold on the fabric of his sweater. His feet went up instinctively, and they tried helplessly to kick the other brother away from himself.

Rodrick grinned evilly, successful for a moment in pulling the sweater just above Greg's chest before the younger brother landed a hard kick into his own. "Ow! You nerd – you're going to pay for that!"

The mayhem began. Manny joined in, beating his tiny fists along Rodrick's back screaming, "Don't hurt Bubby! My Bubby!" Meanwhile, Greg was shouting some battle cry as Rodrick tossed the younger brother to the ground and began wrestling the sweater off. It was harder than it looked, Rodrick would be the first to admit. Not only was did he have to pin the struggling younger brother, but he had to do it as quick as he could.

Greg was not making it easy. After all, he had suffered for an entire week through the heat. It wasn't going to be for nothing, because he knew that Rodrick was only doing this to put him in a compromising position. "Aaagh! Get off of me!"

"Bubby! BUBBY!"

Greg was flipped onto his stomach, and his arm instinctively outstretched to the nearest end table to which he grabbed on to

for dear life. When Rodrick gave a strong jerk-like movement, Greg's body went sliding backwards along the carpet and the table he held onto fell over with a crashing thud. A lamp shattered onto the carpet, and for a brief second all three boys were still – shocked by the damage caused.

But Rodrick wasn't going to let the perfect opportunity pass. While Greg was staring open-mouthed at the broken lamp, Rodrick pulled the sweater clean off the younger brother seconds before their mother stomped down the stairs.

"What is going on here!" she screamed, turning into the living room. Her eyes fell on her three sons, one half naked and the other two looking completely bewildered, before it landed on the broken lamp. "Who did this?" she snapped, walking briskly over to the broken glass and sighing.

"Greg," Rodrick accused readily, standing himself up and dusting himself off.

"That's only because Rodrick was wrestling with me! I grabbed onto the table and it just fell –"

"Look just everyone calm down and don't move until I get this glass cleaned up – Greg! Where did you get that bruise?"

Frozen. Greg felt like an entire bucket of ice had just been thrown onto his naked back. Chancing a glance at Rodrick and seeing the evil smirk waiting for him left Greg angry. His hands curled into fists to fight the urge to continue their previous fight where they left off. For now he was going to have to use some of that quick thinking from earlier and get himself out of this mess.

And it was only a second later that his tense body relaxed and Greg simply shrugged. "I don't know, I might have got it from gym. It just showed up one day."

A moment of silence passed as Greg's mother eyed him critically before taking the bruised arm into her own hands and inspecting it. "Looks like it hurt," she mused, and Greg knew to keep entirely still and silent – if he wanted to survive this anyway. "Are you sure you don't know where it came from?"

Strong-willed eyes stared imploringly into Greg's, but at that moment Greg felt as strong and as confident as he had in awhile. Rodrick was going to see just how much Greg wanted them to be friends. "It doesn't hurt at all, I told you I can't remember when it happened."

Luckily the bruise was healed enough to let the excuse pass, because Greg's mother finally threw her hands up in the air and walked out of the living room to get the vacuum. "Why couldn't I have had girls?" she cried.

When Greg watched her turn the corner, he turned to look at Rodrick, who was looking at him curiously – almost with an appreciation behind the familiar eyes. "See, that wasn't so bad. Now you don't have to wear those stupid sweaters anymore."

"No. Now I'll be able to borrow your shirts. As my official slave you have to do whatever I say!"

A/N: Review for more.