Not much to say this chapter, except for thank you to everyone who reviewed, I love to hear all of your guys' thoughts and opinions(and yes, I'm talking to you TurtlePath, CarlosLover, FangLover, Amber, and Tantrex) you guys are all dears.

Carlos has always loved to dance; it's one of his favorite things in the entire world to do. He used to love going to weddings with his family and dancing with everyone out on the floor, little girls and older girls and the bride. His mom even enrolled him in a Hispanic folk dancing class so he knows the steps to the tango, the flamenco, and about a dozen other dances. When he was first hard pressed for cash he considered going into stripping, because the pay was better and sex was only included if you wanted it to be, but he didn't want to cheapen dancing, couldn't bear to let himself ruin it. He spends the majority of their night at the club dancing, alone or with all the pretty girls he can handle, his hands on their waists. Under ordinary circumstances it would have made him happy, to be out dancing with a girl, only he doesn't live under ordinary circumstances now, and what girl wants to be with a maricón who peddles his ass on the street for cash? He can't think of one.

"I'm so tired." Logan drags his feet, shoulders slumped, barely shuffling.

"I feel great!" He bounces because he can't help it, because he's got too much energy beneath his skin. He feels like a hummingbird and his wings never stop beating until he's ready to sleep. He's used to late nights, lives by them, can stay up for almost twenty-hours straight before he starts to get sleepy, unless he's having a productive night. Too much sex tuckers him out. "That was so much fun." He isn't too sure how he feels about the Kendall thing though. It was fun, more fun than being with strangers, but he definitely doesn't want to mess up their friendship, and he doesn't like Kendall like that. He doesn't like guys, not really, not at first, anyways. He's acclimated to them now, or whatever the word Logan would use is. He never looks at guys and thinks they're hot like he does with girls. He's not a very sex oriented person in general. He has enough sex, it's irrelevant, at this point in his life he can fuck a guy or a girl and he's going to get off either way. He wants someone to talk about stuff to, someone who gets him, emotional intimacy and all that shit.

"We should go to clubs more." James yawns, shutting the door to their bedroom with his foot. James strips down to his underwear and Carlos thinks James is probably one of his best friends, maybe the best, so he doesn't need to find a girl or guy to be with as long as he's got James. Kendall and Logan are great too but they're more serious than he is, they're smarter and sometimes it's hard to relate to them because of it. He doesn't get why anyone thinks he should want more when he has a Kendall and a James and a Logan. Kendall, James, and Logan are better than any girl.

"Totally." His stomach is sticky and he wipes off residual come with one of his dirty socks, turns to face the closet to make sure James doesn't see him do it. He climbs into bed and beneath him James hops into his bunk, shaking the frame. "Can I tell you something?"

"Shoot." He and James talk all the time, about everything, everything but work. Work is a weird subject for them.

"I sort of fucked Kendall." It sounds strange coming out of his mouth. He hasn't actually told anyone he's had sex since he was seventeen and Carmela Vasquez in the apartment next to theirs let him get to third base.

"Sort of?" James voice is different, like he's got his face buried in his pillow or something.

"Well we fucked and I dunno, you don't think it'll get weird between us do you?" He's a little worried about that. Carmela thought they were in love after they almost went all the way. She thought they were gonna get married.

"I didn't know you were into him." James' tone is accusation and betrayal, bitter as though Carlos lied to him.

"I'm not." He leans over the side of his bed to look down at James. James is facing the wall and all Carlos can see are his bare shoulder blades and smooth back. "He kissed me and he was really confused so I let him have sex with me."

"That's pretty generous of you." James hikes his blankets up to his chin and he still won't turn over to face him. "You could have said no, you know."

"Why? It's just sex, it doesn't mean anything. I wanted to help him." He feels pretty good about the overall situation. He helped his friend out, he was happy to do it, he'd be happy to go it again if he has to, but only if he has to. "I'd have done the same for you." James' shoulders tense briefly and then relax.

"Thanks, I guess." James rolls over, blows his bangs out of his eyes. "Now shut up and go to sleep, your ass needs its rest."

"Fuck you." He laughs, the tight feeling leaving his chest, and he nestles down in his bunk, ready to sleep.

"You offering, baby?" James mumbles, laughing too, and the room gets quiet.

He and Kendall eat breakfast alone in the morning. It's not awkward like he thought it would be, it's no different than it's ever been. He eats the last of the cereal and Kendall has coffee and eggs along with thick pieces of toast. They don't talk about it, not that he expected them to, it's pleasantly normal.

"You up for some hockey tonight?" Kendall reads the paper every morning, scours the job ads looking for work. It reminds Carlos of himself back when he first realized how badly he needed money, when he had three jobs a week and it was still never enough. "I'm dying to get back in the rink."

"I can't, I didn't work last night and I have to try and make up for it." Yoli's baby is due in less than two months and he knows he can't afford to bring them home before then. He wishes he could be there to meet his sobrino or sobrina, so that he could be tío Carlos and go to the baptism, stand at his place as godfather and tío. "You and Logan and James can go." He wants to go with them, to play hockey for the night rather than stroll the streets with glitter on his cheeks.

"Me and Kendall and Logan are going to go where?" James pokes his head out of the bathroom and his hair is freshly done, blow dried and combed to perfection, every single strand in place.

"Play hockey." Kendall slides James a piece of toast when he sits at the table. "You down?"

"I wish." James bites into the toast, chewing almost thoughtfully, most likely thinking about his hair. "I have a party to go to tonight."

"Sounds fun."

"Not really." James flips his bangs out of his eyes, licks butter off his lips. "It's a party for work, I hate going to them." His face flashes something dark, something Carlos can relate to. "They're boring as hell, not to mention depressing, having to spend time with people from the office fucking sucks." He wonders what it's like to work in a real office, somewhere he isn't washing dishes or working with his hands, straining French fries, choking around cocks pushed past his lips. "I'm only going to stay as long as I have to, there's a problem with one of our suppliers that my boss wants to discuss."

"What kind of problem?" Kendall gets up, scrapes what's left of his plate into the garbage and puts the plate in the sink, runs water over it. Carlos himself is interested to hear this, real work is fascinating, not a dick or a condom in sight.

"One of the suppliers we buy from, we paid them in advance 'cause they always come through, but this time they never gave us the goods. So now we're out about two grand and my boss is pissed because all of us have been cheated out of our money."

"Can't you go talk to the supplier?"

James shrugs, steals a sip from Carlos' glass of orange juice.

"We can't find him; he's given us most of what we need but not all of it." James scowls, angry. "I can't make any money right now; I don't have anything to sell."

"It'll work out." He says, hoping it really will, he doesn't have any experience with this kind of thing, he just wants to see James smile, for the frustration to melt from his face.

"It better."

He leaves for work at eight that night. He goes late because he wants to watch the sunset, loves how the sky changes colors, washed out pinks and faded blues, the prettiest painting in nature. He tries a new street corner, closer to the nicer part of town than he's used to, right at the cusp, where the rich and prominent public figures are more likely to wander when they're in the mood for action they don't want anyone to find out about, be it the press or their wives.

Business is slow tonight. He leans against a wall for support, trying to look devastated and pretty and everything he has to be to get picked. It's a tough thing to guess what a random stranger is going to be into. Sometimes they want someone a little more butch and he wipes the glitter off his face and toughens out his face, more bored and horny than delicate and desirable. Other times he gets a guy that is looking for someone soft and polite, more like a woman, and he flutters his eyelashes and cants his hips. Then there are the pleasant surprises, such as when women come looking, wanting hookers for bachelor parties, emergency dates, or someone to keep them from being lonely. They choose him most of the time because he doesn't look like he poses much of a threat.

"Are you a hooker?" A pair of men come towards him and their faces are flushed with excitement, an inside joke he will never hear.

"No." He replies; suspicious. Cops love to go undercover to bring them in, but they're never this forward about it, so he isn't sure what's going on.

"We're not cops." The taller one says, running a hand through his dark blond hair.

"Yeah, we promise."

Their promise doesn't ease his suspicions in the least. No cop comes out and admits to being a cop, not a good one, anyways.

He cocks his head at them, fucking confused.

"We need a hooker for a party, the gig pays a grand." Shit. A thousand dollars is Pretty Woman money, escort money, stripper money, not street hooker money. Cops or not, he has to risk it.

"Let's go." He follows them to their car, slides into the backseat, watches the two of them smile to each other in the front seat. "Is it just the two of you?"

"No, there's gonna be a couple other guys, is that a problem?"

"Depends, I might charge extra." He's going to make a killing, enough for his sister to buy her baby a brand new outfit for his or her baptism, a whole closet full of baby clothes.

"Fair enough." The dark haired guy reaches beneath his seat, tosses Carlos a plastic bag. "Put this on." He stares at the clothes, turns them over to make sure they aren't dirty. "Is something wrong? We can find someone else if there is."

"No."

It's nothing he hasn't done a hundred times before, so he digs into the bag and puts the clothes on.

Besos y brazos