Chapter Six: Eh, Eh

—Boy, We've had a Real Good Time—

Flynn couldn't remember ever waking up so warm before. It was like someone had placed a space-heater all along his skin, replaced his pillows with something even softer and more delicate, and…

Flynn forced his eyes open, curious as to what the hell was in his bed.

Dillon.

He had actually stayed.

Flynn lightly kissed the black rangers chin, blushing to himself at how much different things had grown between the two of them. He could hardly believe they'd endured nearly a year of Venjix attacks, new additions to the team, and a rocky relationship with no clear cut boundaries. Talk about a long way to come.

Dillon inhaled deeply, groaning slightly as he began to wake up.

"Morning," he murmured, squinting at Flynn, who was smirking at him.

"Top of the mornin' to ya," he replied.

Dillon rolled his eyes and looked around. "What time is it?"

"No idea; some bloke unplugged the clock sometime last night."

Dillon glared jokingly, flicking Flynn's nose lightly.

"Judging by the fact that the sun is up, though…" Flynn continued.

Dillon shrugged. "Honestly, I'm too tired to really care."

Ranger blue blinked, almost confused. "Really?"

"Who's gonna knock on my door? Summer?"

Flynn subconsciously tensed, but let it go quickly. After last night, he was fairly certain that Summer was far from his competition.

"So you're going to spend the morning in here with me?" Flynn asked, somewhat skeptical and expecting the black ranger to jump up at any moment.

"Unless you want me to go," Dillon mumbled, letting his sentence trail off in faux-sadness.

"Oh, shut up," the shorter male retorted, pushing Dillon lightly.

The black ranger, who was slowly becoming Subject D-44 with every passing moment, allowed himself to bask in the happiness for once. Last night would never leave his memory banks, no matter what Venjix or anyone else tried to do. The sheer closeness he felt with the blue ranger now was almost overwhelming. In detailed terms, he'd literally been inside him—one couldn't get much closer than that, Dillon assumed. The very same feeling still lingered in his memory and senses as he recalled it again and again in his mind.

All the "lessons" Flynn had taught him about pleasure had definitely paid off, and Dillon was not one to ignore attention to detail. He responded to his partner's every desire in any way he possibly could; not that Flynn made it difficult, though. Dillon felt his cheeks begin to burn as he remembered the outspokenness displayed by Flynn in the "throes of passion." He certainly hadn't been shy about instructing Dillon, which was somewhat of a surprise to the mentee; he hadn't anticipated such an elicitation.

"Do you feel okay?" Dillon asked abruptly, remembering the obvious response to pain Flynn had also portrayed.

The blue ranger furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I know that you were in pain at first; I just wanted to make sure there were no…" the cyborg cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, you know…injuries."

The accented ranger hooted richly before responding. "I'm a ranger, lad; it takes a bit more than you to permanently injure me."

Ranger Black raised an eyebrow. "Uh huh…that sounds kind of like a challenge, Mr. McAllistair."

"Take it how you want, Ranger Black," Flynn replied slyly.

—I Didn't Mean to Hurt You—

Flynn could hardly focus on the mission Dr. K was describing. He kept catching Dillon's gaze and smirking fiendishly to himself. Some of the nearly unmentionable acts they'd taken part in were highly uncharacteristic, he thought; but they were by far the most fulfilling. It wasn't even that they were daring at all, because they pretty much stuck to the basics; it was more so the matter of it being the two of them actually engaging in these acts. Now, it was nearly impossible for Flynn to look at the black ranger without picturing him in a much less decent manner. He could tell Dillon was having the same issue by the attempted look of seriousness he was putting on. Every time he would glance at Flynn, it became harder for him to keep a straight face or steady gaze.

At least he knew that the mechanical implants in his body hadn't shut down his human passion.

When they returned from simply crashing their megazords together, the feeling of desire still hadn't left. It was like they'd opened up some beast within their bodies that craved only one thing: each other.

"I mean, seriously; I think this time, Dr. K has seriously lost it. I mean, she throws together all this crazy technology and expects us to just make it…'come together.'" Ziggy paused. "She's standing right behind me, isn't she?"

"Yeah," Flynn nodded, withholding his laughter.

The usual banter between the two love-struck opposites took place, as could be expected, and Dillon found he was able to still feign interest in what was at hand. At least he could offer up "smart-ass remarks," as Flynn had called them.

"It's more fun to watch you squirm," he said to Ziggy, who was slightly frustrated at the lack of help he'd gotten as a warning of Dr. K's presence.

"Incoming Venjix Attack Bot in Sector 8," the alarm system intrusively warned them.

Dillon felt his insides twist at the mention of Venjix, like they always did when the name was mentioned. For some reason, he took it personally. What would he do when the Virus controlled 50% of his body? He would lose independence and become more and more mechanical every day. What would happen to his relationship with Flynn? His friendship with the others? His ranger-hood?

But even after the battle, his worry stayed. The reckless behavior of Gem and Gemma didn't help much, either. He didn't much care for Scott's extreme cautionary ways, but even Dillon had to admit that Gem and Gemma's lack of forethought was disturbing—if not annoying. So as he watched the metallic-colored twins be chewed out by Scott, he reflected on when that had been him.

He remembered Flynn's words of disapproval at the black rangers "solo ranger thing," and had to grin to himself. If Scott honestly thought he could talk Dillon into reasoning with the boom-twins, the red ranger was even crazier than his hair.

But that was all he could honestly focus on. As soon as Flynn began to speak, Dillon reconfigured the speech pattern in his head, reliving the earlier morning's events, as well as those of the night before. He literally had to fight his facial muscles from forming a smile.

Meanwhile, Dillon's thoughts began to drift back to a few days earlier, when he and Summer had almost kissed. His feelings for the yellow ranger had most definitely changed, but he wasn't quite sure how much they superseded platonic. And she certainly wasn't making it any easier for him to analyze the situation.

On the other hand, she had indefinitely become his best friend aside from Flynn. She was the one he went to about problems he didn't quite feel like sharing with Flynn—mostly because he didn't want to worry the blue ranger. Even though Summer was constantly worrying, it was easier to reassure her that he was fine than it was to lie to Flynn. That had proven almost impossible, Dillon found.

Maybe telling Summer about his relationship would be the perfect way to even things out. He would not only gain Flynn's trust in the degree that they were no longer entirely "secret," and that Summer would know the relationship she had with Dillon was always going to be nonphysical.

But he'd gotten sidetracked. Suddenly, his memory was being flooded with flashbacks. Maybe it was the recent increase of Venjix Virus in his body; or maybe it was just the fact that he'd been "online" for almost a year. While Flynn, normally the only person to be able to hold Dillon's attention, was berating him jokingly about the dirt trapped in the Fury, he merely dropped something that sent Dillon back who knew how many years.

He had just had the words forming in his mouth. He was going to surprise Flynn and Summer. He was going to simply say something clever—probably sarcastic in his "Dillon Way" to drop the news. Something along the lines of: "Are boyfriends always so meticulous?" or "Summer, would you date someone who was such a perfectionist?"—to which he would answer after her and say, "I would…and am." Anything would have been better than an unwanted flashback.

"I think I just almost saw my sister," he replied to Summer, who had just asked if he was okay.

Not exactly the words he'd wanted to say.

—I Never Thought We'd Fall out of Place—

Flynn may have been a simple mechanic, but he was not stupid, especially in the social department. He knew something was wrong between him and Dillon. He needed to be close with him. The lack of togetherness they'd had lately was starting to drive him insane. Every word the black ranger said seemed to have Flynn on edge—ready to jump his bones at any given moment. It was almost scary. He didn't exactly know that losing his virginity would present such a large future obstacle: self-control.

"I'm sure Scott's fine, just give the guy some space," Dillon had said to Summer, who, as usual, was panicking about one of her male teammates.

Flynn could never recall a time when he'd been hostile toward Summer, but she was really starting to irritate him lately; what, with her not-so-subtle advances on Dillon and such.

Summer shrugged and joined them in their walk to the kitchen. Flynn had to think of an excuse to get away; and fast.

"Hey, Dillon, would you mind looking at some specs I wanted to show to Dr. K? I don't really wanna show her my rough draft cuz she sorta hates when I do that. She says I have chicken scratch."

Dillon smirked. "I guess I could help with that."

Summer looked as if she was going to say something, so Dillon quickly threw out an appeasement.

"Hey, Summer, after I'm finished helping Flynn, do you wanna help us finish cleaning the Fury?"

She smiled quickly, "Uh, sure!"

"See you then."

And they were off, quickly climbing the stairs and retreating into Flynn's bedroom. Only seconds had passed before they were embracing each other, clothes being torn off, zippers being undone, unbuttoning taking place, and kisses hastily being placed.

Flynn's mouth had already found its way to Dillon's neck, to which the black ranger did not object; he'd actually grown rather accustomed to the feeling and learned to control the impulse of snapping his shoulder up in protection.

Meanwhile, Dillon led Flynn to the bed without even having to open his eyes; he knew the room like the back of his hand by that time. As soon as his back hit the bed, he pulled the blue-eyed ranger to eye-level and took his mouth with his own again. Any flashbacks Dillon may have had throughout the day, or previously, had all but faded away and been replaced with a burning desire to be a part of the blue ranger again.

It wasn't like Flynn had intended on losing control so easily, but he didn't know how much time they had; and from their previous experiences, this was no short task. As they were both pretty meticulous men, their attention to detail showed in everything they did—especially when it came to pleasing.

He was now moving down Dillon's torso again, still finishing the undressing procedure, and trailing kisses in his wake. It wasn't long before he found his mark. Times like these were the only time he could get Dillon out of his shell—to get him to embrace his humanity much more than he ever would any other time. Flynn considered moans and the like to be a reward of sorts, and it was what he aimed for every time; especially when they came from someone as reserved as Dillon could sometimes be.

But it was over before it could develop. Dr. K was calling them to the War Room, and Dillon knew it had something to do with Scott. How he hated the red ranger in that moment.

—I Wish You Never Looked at Me that Way—

With information about his sister so fresh on his mind, Dillon could not find the time to concentrate on Flynn. The drive he'd had before to be around, on, or even inside the other ranger, was completely suspended by his drive to find the only family he knew of. Flynn was not happy, to say the least.

"Are you sleeping here or…?"

Dillon was gritting his teeth, the blue ranger could tell.

"I…I can't really sleep, lately; I don't want to wake you up in the middle of the night," Dillon said. It was partly true.

"You never do; and if you did, I wouldn't mind," the short-haired male responded with a small smile. Flynn was nearly pleading, but he was trying to preserve his pride just a little.

"I think I should probably just…stay."

Exasperated, Flynn ground his own teeth together. "Look," he paused and pulled Dillon into his room, shutting the door; "I know you're torn up about your sister, and I know sex probably isn't one of your priorities right now. But I'm not asking you to sleep with me so we can screw, I'm asking you to sleep here because I want to sleep next to you."

Dillon did look torn, Flynn noticed. But immediately, the emotion playing across his face was replaced with a steel resolve. The blue ranger prepared himself. He knew "Subject D-44" was about to address him.

"I said no."

But this time, Flynn couldn't take it. He was done. He couldn't continue to be pushed away. He had always pushed back—in his own subtle ways, to let Dillon know he was there no matter what—but when did Dillon ever push in response to him? When did Flynn get to call the shots?

"There are two people in this relationship, Dillon," Flynn half-shouted to Dillon, who had already turned his back to walk out the door.

The black ranger stopped cold, turning around ever so slightly.

"It can't be all about you all the time," Flynn continued boldly.

"This isn't about me, it's about my sister!"

"And I'm trying to help you, man, but you don't make it easy. You always want to be alone with your thoughts, and let me tell you, that's never healthy."

"What would either of us know about being healthy? This is clearly not healthy," Dillon said quietly.

Flynn was silent, a look of astonishment plastered on his face.

"This—this—bad romance we've drafted up like it's supposed to work perfectly; it doesn't. I can't deal with all of this at once. On one end I've got this virus manipulating me more and more, on the other I'm missing my sister, and then here, in the middle, I'm fighting with you nearly half the time."

Now, Flynn was furious.

"Have you completely gone mad?" he spat. "The only reason we fight is because you would rather go and run to Summer instead of tell me anything. The wee-bit of information I do get from you, I practically have to yank out of your mouth. You might call it a 'bad romance,' or whatever, but just remember who the author is—the one who doesn't know shit about romance!"

Dillon clenched and unclenched his jaw several more times.

"We're done."

"Oh, that's convenient," Flynn retorted hotly. "Almost a year later and you decide to tell me we're just done. Just like that? That's fair."

"Fair doesn't mean anything to me," Dillon fired back. "And it's not like the concept of time has any effect on me; I'm turning into a machine. And I don't know shit about romance."

—There's Nothing Else I Can Say—

The song "Eh, Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)" is by Lady Gaga.

This chapter takes place during RPM episode 19 - "Three's a Crowd." It was, by far, the hardest chapter to write of this story. And not just because of the fight, but because I had no idea how to lead up to it! I didn't want to go from "I love you"s to "we're done"s without a proper transition. Besides, then you guys would only have gotten a 2 page chapter. And I'm pretty sure that's not fair :p. Plus, I could not, for the life of me, decide which Gaga song to use here; but when I listened to "Eh, Eh" again, it was evident it was perfect.

Anyway, thank you all so much for your reviews, I do hope you keep them coming; they really motivate me to write more!