Author's Note: Okay, so first….I'm sorry. I haven't forgotten about this at all I promise. AS a matter of fact John and Clare have been banging around in my head. I've had a lot RL stuff come slamming down on me at once, one of them being the very sudden passing of my mom. That said…..thank you all so much for the amazing reviews. I'm going to try and get some chapters up back to back. I can promise this isn't going to be ending right away. Plus….what's an epic love story without some up's and down's right?

Disclaimer – Wait…hold on I think I might…..just maybe…damn nope Still don't own John Bender or The Breakfast Club.

Clare walked back into the house and through the kitchen where they had their first 'reunion' and seeing how well that turned out she wanted to continue walking through it and head right to her living room. She stopped though only to put on the coffee that she had mentioned. Moving over to the Mr Coffee machine, Clare went about the mindless process of prepping the machine to run and make the drink that had become her staple of the past year or so.

Once she hit the start button, Clare motioned for John to follow her. Seeing the expression on his face she could tell that he was surprised they weren't staying in the kitchen. No…they were so not staying in there. Evidently putting her and John in a kitchen was just as sexually stimulating as putting them in a bedroom and she wasn't going to go down that path with again, at least not yet.

Entering the living room, Clare smiled inwardly at the dark wood and furniture that created a warmth in there that she loved. In brain it felt like this is how one of those amazing private libraries that the old, old wealthy men from the 1920's use to have in their homes but never appreciated. Many a night Clare would spend time curled up here on the couch just reading a book and unwinding.

The warmth that normally rolled over her when she entered this room wasn't there right now though. She was a buddle of knots and nerves inside. Her stomach felt like it was going to explode of her and she was mentally exhausted from all of the drama that had been happening over the past few days. Walking over to the big window that looked out over her front lawn and porch, Clare turned around and faced the source of all those knots and feelings.

"Have a seat. Once the coffee is ready I'll bring it in for us."

"You don't have to wait on me, Princess. I'm a big boy and I think I've figured out how to pour my own cup of coffee over this time."

Rolling her eyes, Clare sighed. "Yes, but this is my house not yours so I'll be pouring the coffee."

That one line stung John probably more than it should have. This was her house. Not theirs…like she had initially wanted it to be. "…And then I got a little crazy and bought a townhouse for us on the way home. I saw it and I just knew it was perfect….Well not perfect but perfect for us. There is work that needs to be done but that means that you and I can make it our own." This was supposed to have been their place. Where they could have fixed it up together; instead he just ran on out on her and them.

Watching her as she moved around the living room, pacing like she was thinking about something but wasn't willing to show the signs of what was on her mind. So they both stood there watching each other. Clare slowly walking the length of the living room from one wall to another and John, helping to hold up the door frame between the living room and the hallway.

"Why? Why John? I want the real reason this time. Not that bullshit "I'm an asshole" excuse you gave me when we….while we were…." Clare blushed and tried to find the words to use.

"When we were fucking the brains out of each other in your bedroom?" unable to help the smirk on his face, he held up a hand to her. "Five times."

"It wasn't five times. It was only four!"

"Five. Four in the bedroom and once in the shower." His smirk grew bigger as he watched the red that matched her hair spread across her cheeks and he knew from personal experience that she really did blush all over every single inch of that body.

"Whatever. That's not the point. I want to know why. You told me in the shower it wasn't because of the money that you just…" She lifted her fingers and made little air quotes, " 'Just couldn't handle it' So now I want to know why."

Turning around she sat down on the couch and waited for him to tell her. Tell her why he ran out on her, them, their lives, everything that they had fought tooth and nail to get and keep. Folding her arms and crossing her legs, she waited for the explanation that had been months overdue.

John sighed and rubbed his hand over his hair before pacing for a little bit. He really hated doing this shit. Couldn't they just have hot makeup sex for a few days and that would be fine? He already admitted to her that he had been a big asshole…the world's biggest.

He was prepared to make that very same suggestion when he saw Clare sitting there waiting for him to speak. Fuck. Sighing to himself he started pacing the living room much like Clare had been before. "I saw my dad the night before you left to go speak to the lawyer about your mom's will."

"You never…"

"I know. I never intended on telling you or letting you find out either. He came to the job site while I was working. Made some threats, tried to knock me around, and had the decency to let me know that my mom had died from one of her 'accidents.' "

He never looked up to see Clare's face. He couldn't…he never wanted to see pity or anything close to it on her face when it came to him and his fucked up family. "Told me that I wasn't his kid and that my mom was a whore that got what she deserved."

He kept pacing and then finally stopped to look out the same window that Clare had been when they first entered here. He knew the exact moment that she stood up and walked over to stand behind him. Clare had been the only to get that when he was fucked up emotionally like this that he didn't want the big hugs or pity looks. So she had always just stood as close to him as she could. Letting him feel that she was there….that she had his back.

Feeling the emotion of that move in his chest, John swallowed hard. "He said he would tell you, that I was a whore's bastard son. Tell your father and that I wouldn't get anything or go anywhere…sure as hell not you. Cause who would want a bastard loser that is nothing but an idiot criminal and can't do jack shit, right? I let him get in my head. Something I hadn't let him do in a long fucking time. That on top of you coming home with the news…I was fucked up. I…fucked up."

He shut up after that, just staring out the window on to the street and feeling Clare's presence as she stood behind him. After several minutes he felt the weight of her head lying against his back and her arms, sliding around his waist. Dropping his head down he closed his eyes and just let her hold him for a little bit. Neither one saying anything else for now.