Thank you again to caramelkaren and O'FoggageGreen for reviewing and for advising me on how to make my story better. You really helped me!

Davy went to sleep on the couch that night. "I'm sorry," he said while he was picking up his clothes.

"Stay," Peter said. He tried to catch his arm. "I didn't mean. We don't have to do anything right now. Just – stay."

Davy shrugged him off and shook his head. He didn't meet Peter's eyes.

It felt more lonely than when Davy'd been spending every night with girls. Maybe because Davy was right there, only a room away. Even curling up in Davy's bed just reminded him even more that Davy wasn't there. That he didn't want to be with Peter.

The next morning was bad too. Over breakfast and out of nowhere, Davy said, "I think we should switch rooms."

He stared down at his bowl. Peter stared at him.

"You and Pete want to sleep upstairs now?" Micky was confused.

"No." It came out so strong it made Peter flinch. "Just – just me."

It felt like Peter was swallowing spiky cogs instead of cereal.

"And what does Peter think about all this?" Mike said finally.

He looked up. "I don't want to change."

"That's not a problem. He can stay exactly where he is," Davy said. He sounded bright and hollow.

Peter could feel Mike looking at him. "Well. I don't think we should get into all this right now," he said. "We can talk about it after practice."

It wasn't a yes and it wasn't a no. Peter felt heavy and slow as he took out his guitar and set up. There was a pool of misery in his stomach, and when everyone was ready and they started their first song, he played a wrong note.

"That's okay. Let's try it again," Mike said.

They did. He played the same wrong note. "Sorry," he said.

Mike shook his head. "Let's go from the top."

They tried another song. And then another.

His fingers were being stupid and even though he knew all their songs backwards, it was like they were working slower than his brain. Like he had snails on the ends of his hands instead of fingers.

He stared at Davy's back and felt miserable as the tension grew tighter and tighter. Finally, as Peter fumbled his way through Pleasant Valley Sunday, Mike suddenly stopped playing. He hauled his guitar from around his neck and put it down. Everyone stopped. "That's it," he said. "That is it."

Peter's mouth was very dry. He licked his lips, getting ready to apologize.

But instead, Mike pulled Micky up from behind the drums and shoved him in the direction of the door. "We are gonna go out for a while," he said. "And when we come back, this is all gonna be sorted out." He grabbed Davy's shoulder. "Fix this. Now." His voice was tight.

The door slammed shut. There was a very long silence. Then Davy sighed and sat down on the loveseat. He turned a maraca over in his hand.

Slowly, Peter put down his guitar. "I'm sorry Mike's mad. That's my fault."

Davy shook his head. "Nah. It's my fault."

Peter approached him. "I'm the one playing the wrong notes."

"Well I'm the one who upset you and made you play like that."

He didn't feel right sitting next to Davy. Actually, he just didn't think Davy would allow it. So he sat on the floor next to him instead.

"Do you really want to switch rooms?" Peter asked finally.

It hurt when Davy said, "Yeah. I'm sorry." He did sound sorry. But resolute.

It was hard to say anything, "Oh."

"It's just – it wasn't supposed to turn out like this," Davy explained. "It was just supposed to be" –

"Kids' stuff?" Peter finished. The words stung to say. Davy flinched. "Yeah," he said quietly.

"It didn't feel like kids' stuff." His voice was scratchy. "Not to me."

Davy looked away for a second. "I'm sorry. I should never have started this in the first place."

Peter didn't say anything. Because – yes. Davy should have never should've started this in the first place. But – "Then why did you?" He couldn't understand it. Davy had so many girls. Surely he didn't need to have Peter on a string too.

Suddenly Davy didn't sound sure of himself at all. "I just. You looked…and you were upset…and I thought. One time. Once couldn't hurt."

He sounded so regretful. Like it was tearing him up inside too. He looked at Peter with soft, wanting eyes – like he knew how Peter felt. Like he felt the same way. It was cruel. Peter looked down at the floor.

"Are you – you gonna be alright?"

"Yeah." The word was flat. "That's how this works, isn't it?"

"It is," Davy insisted. "You just…you think, because it's your first time – that…that it's different. But it's not. Trust me – I know. You'll meet some girl and…" he stopped. "You'll be alright, Pete. Believe me."

He believed that Davy believed it. That that was how it happened for Davy. That last time, he'd just looked up and seen some girl and – that was it. No more kids' stuff. It probably wasn't the same for, "Your friend. Jim," he said. "How did it work for him?"

Davy frowned. "I told you. He met a girl. Mary-Louise." His mouth twisted a little on her name. "Nice girl. At least…from what I saw of her."

Peter could feel his eyebrows draw together. "What about you?"

Davy shrugged. It was a strangely awkward and lonely looking gesture. "Threw them a party when they got engaged. It was…" He stopped, then said again, "She was a nice girl."

It was like making a jigsaw the wrong way around, colored sides down – and then turning it around. The picture it made stunned him.

"Him? He called it off? Jim?"

Davy smiled a bit wryly. "Yeah. Had to, didn't he? I mean…he'd just met the girl of his dreams. Couldn't be expected to keep doing – kids' stuff – after that."

He didn't say it harshly. He said it like he understood. Like it was inevitable. But Peter could see the hurt through his smile. "You. Did you – love him?"

"I thought I did," Davy said finally. "For a bit. But…I got over it. You will too." He reached out and stroked Peter's hair. "See – I do know. And it's nice to think that you think…but it's not real."

"Why? Because that's not how it works?"

"Yeah." His hand was so gentle on Peter's head. He turned so that Davy's hand touched his cheek. He quickly withdrew it, but Peter kept the memory of it, and put that together with Davy's hugs and his soft whispers and the way he seemed just as cut up as Peter about this thing ending.

It didn't make sense. But for the first time Peter thought maybe it wasn't supposed to. "So why did you do it then? If you knew it was only going to end anyway."

"I didn't think it'd end like this. I never thought you'd think…and I wanted. I just wanted to – have you. For a little while."

"Because you wanted me. You want me." Peter stated it outright. Davy wasn't trying not to hurt him. He wasn't hoping that Peter was going to move on. He was anticipating it, and he was trying not get hurt himself.

It felt unreal but Davy didn't correct him. He pressed his face against Davy's knee. "I don't like your friend Jim," he said matter of factly.

"You never met him."

"Yeah. But he's an idiot." He rubbed his cheek against Davy's knee. "Because he chose someone else when he could have had you."

He could hear Davy take a breath in, but he said, "Don't think he'd see it quite like that."

"Then he's even more of an idiot."

Davy shook his head. "He made the right choice. The same one anyone would. The same one you would" –

"No." Davy's knee was bony and his pants leg felt rough against his forehead as he shook his head.

Davy put his hands on his face, pulling his head up to look at him. "That's why I'm not going to let it get that far. Because you think it's different right now, but" –

"I know it's different," Peter interrupted. They stared at each other. "But – you can switch rooms, and I won't ever," his hand stroked over Davy's knee, his thigh, "ever ask you for this again…if you don't want me to."

Davy relaxed a little. "You won't?"

"But."

He tensed right back up. "But?"

"First, I want you to. To do it. Fuck me."

Immediately, "It's not a good idea."

"I know. But I want it. And…if it's the last time…"

"The last time?" Davy was intent. There was no lying to him.

"If you want it to be," he said. "Then it's the last time."

He stood up. After a second, so did Davy.

In the bedroom, after they'd stripped off their clothes, and Davy'd found a small tube of something in one of the dresser drawers, he said, "There are other things we could do, you know. It doesn't have to be – this."

Peter laid down on his bed, on his back. "If it's going to be the last time, I want to do this," he said. And, "I love you."

Davy jerked. But he didn't say anything in response to Peter's last words. "It's probably going to hurt," he warned.

"I don't care. I love you."

Davy swallowed. His voice didn't sound quite right as he said, "It'd be easier if you were on your stomach. Instead of your back."

"I love you and I want to do it like this," Peter said. He didn't move.

"Pete – don't…"

"Are you going to do this or not?" he asked. Then, when Davy finally knelt between his spread legs, "I love you."

"I can't – I kind of need to – to concentrate right now, Pete," Davy said. Peter grabbed one of his tightly clenched fists between his hands. "I have to say it now, because after this, I'm probably never going to be able to tell you again. I love you." He kissed Davy's clasped fingers.

Davy breathed in hard through his nose. He didn't say anything. He fiddled with the little tube and said, "Are you ready?"

"I love you. I'm ready."

He fought the urge to tense up when he felt a finger pressing against his entrance. He closed his eyes in discomfort as it slowly pressed in.

"Are you okay?" Davy asked.

"Okay," he gasped. "Love you."

Davy shook his head, like he had water in his ears, but he kept going doggedly. The discomfort eased a little as Davy worked his finger in and out. Then he added a second finger. "Tell me if it hurts."

"Just strange. I love you."

His fingers touched off something inside Peter, something that felt good. Davy smiled at the choked sound he made. He managed to pant, "Love you."

Davy closed his eyes. "I'm going to – going to do it now, okay?" His voice shook a little.

"Good. Good. Love you."

Davy adjusted his position a little, pulling Peter's hips up onto his thighs. It probably would have been easier if they'd done it the other way. Peter wrapped his legs around Davy's waist and said, "Love you so much. Do it. Please."

Davy's set determined expression twitched whenever he said the words. He began to press in and it was nothing like his fingers had been. Peter couldn't stop his face scrunching up.

"You okay? I can stop," Davy said, already withdrawing. Peter caught at his hips. Shook his head. "Don't stop. Love you, I love you, don't stop."

He held Davy's eyes until he nodded. And slowly he pushed in until he was all the way in. He stopped, giving Peter a minute to adjust.

He stared down at Peter, looking surprised and amazed. It was like looking in a mirror. "You're really…you are. Oh, I love you, I love you," he said.

Davy bit his lip. "Pete – don't, I can't." But as he said it, he moved back and slowly thrust. Peter gasped as he hit that spot inside that sent flashes of pleasure down his spine. "Oh that's…do that again – that's, I love you, that's good…"

Davy pulled back. "Ssssh," he said.

"Love you," Peter managed, as he thrust again. And, "Love you, love you, so much, love you," with every subsequent thrust.

"Ssssh," Davy kept saying, as his pace sped up. "Sssh, sssh, sssh, don't."

"But I do, I do, I love you, oh."

Davy bent over him and put a hand over his mouth. His voice kept cracking. "Stop. Please. I. oh. Pete, I don't. I can't. Please – oh. You don't – won't, I" –

Peter held his eyes even though Davy was hitting that place inside him with every stroke and all he wanted to do was surrender to it. He kissed his palm. Davy shook his head desperately. "I don't – I can't, I – I" –

Peter just looked at him.

"I love you," Davy said, and came.

Afterwards, Davy lay next to him. He stroked his hair and kissed his temple until his eyes opened.

"I love you," he said.

Davy's mouth quivered a little, almost but not exactly amused. "Yeah…I think I got that."

"Do you believe it?" Davy didn't answer. Peter levered himself up so he was holding himself over Davy. "I can keep saying it until you believe me. I love you, I love you, I love" –

"Okay – okay! I believe you." Davy pulled him down again and buried his face in his neck. "Me too," he said more quietly. "I love you."

Peter waited. "Do you want me to go?"

Davy just pulled him closer. "No."

"Good."

After a minute, he said, "I still don't know how this is supposed to work though."

Peter tried not to tense.

Davy raised his head and said, carefully, "You. You might have to show me." He kissed the corner of his mouth. "If you want. If – you're sure."

Peter looked at him for a moment then managed to nod, jerkily. "I'm sure," he said.

And just in case it wasn't clear enough he pulled Davy in close and sealed it with a kiss.