Alright sorry for the lateness... writer's block and the flu... but please check my profile, read the paragraph stuff above the line, it's kinda important but too much to post here... Hopefully I still have some readers, and enjoy... also, next chapter will probably be the last...

"Damn it," Tom hissed as he glanced towards the clock longingly, wishing for the day to be over. But instead of looking up and seeing 2.30, he saw 1.30. One hour left yet it felt like he had already been in the class for five. Then again, he never did like History.

"What?" Booker questioned from beside him, looking towards Tom as he spoke. He himself had hated almost every class, history included, but, unlike Tom, had mastered the sitting and doing nothing while class dragged on. Because of this, he rarely ever felt as if a class were going too slow. Sure, the entire day felt like it could drag on forever, but never the class, and each seemed to last the amount of time it should, maybe a few minutes longer, maybe a few less. Tom though, was fidgeting in his seat and glancing up at the clock every minute. Doing that would definitely make the time seem slower and Dennis laughed, before whispering, "Hey Tommy, what's up?" Dennis spoke louder, hoping this time he would receive a response.

"Slow class," Tom whispered in response and groaned when Dennis laughed again. "It's not funny, it's boring," Tom spoke quietly and annoyed. "I mean, why should we care about what happened a hundred years ago?"

"Well," Booker started, a smile forming, "You gotta know about the past before you can worry about the future. Or some crap like that."

"Yeah yeah, whatever," Tom replied, once again looking towards the clock. Only three minutes had passed. He groaned once again and ignored Dennis' suggestion to play tic-tac-toe. He may have been bored, but there was no way he would start playing tic-tac-toe.

"Mr. Henderson," a voice cut through Tom's thoughts twenty minutes later and he glared angrily at the teacher, knowing that he was going to be asked a question the teacher would expect him to know the answer to. "Yeah?" he called out, snapping his gum loudly and smirking. It was time to play McQuaid, with or without Doug – if he was lucky, he could get himself kicked out of class and be able to leave.

"Who was the first president of the United States?" the teacher asked, ignoring the rudeness intended to gain a n early trip home – he had been teaching twenty years and knew almost every trick a student could throw at him to get out of class -- and stared directly at his pupil with no hint of annoyance or anger. Tom cursed inwardly, then shrugged his shoulders. "How the hell should I know? This is my first day in your class."

Some students began laughing at Tom's statement but immediately quieted down when their teacher's expression finally changed to display the feelings of annoyance and anger Tom had wanted – and Tom knew he was getting close to being kicked out and smirked again. "Maybe you should ask somebody who actually cares. My brother here is a huge history buff, ya know."

"I didn't your ask your brother, Tom," the teacher replied calmly, enunciating Tom's name slowly. "I asked you. Now answer it."

"I told you-"

"That this is your first time in my class, Mr. Henderson," the teacher cut in roughly, anger overcoming his emotions – no student had ever tried this hard. "The problem with that is that you are in grade eleven and have been taking history since grade seven, possibly earlier." The teacher stopped speaking as he allowed his words to sink into Tom's mind before continuing slowly, as if speaking to a four-year old just learning to speak. "Only an idiot would be unable to tell me who the first president was."

"Maybe I don't know," Tom replied coldly. "Because I never paid attention in any 'previous history courses' either." Tom stood quickly, his chair pushing out behind him at his speed of movement and smacking lightly against the wall, and then he glared angrily at the teacher. "So go ask somebody else who can answer the damn question." he finished roughly, raising his voice yet not yelling – just enough to gain the teacher's attention that he was pissed off and didn't care.

"Then you might as well, leave, Tom, since you are so intent on doing nothing in here, anyways. Goodbye."

Tom turned towards Dennis and smiled, satisfied that he had gotten what he had wanted. "Guess I'll see you later, then," he said, grinning and then laughing lightly. "And goodbye, Mister Jones."

Dennis laughed after Tom had spoken and stood as well although with less aggression than Tom had, and with no abusive movements made towards his chair. Tom stared at him, confused, then smirked when he realized Dennis' intentions. "Yeah, like I'm stayin' if you aren't," Booker replied, following as Tom headed towards the door. The teacher made no movement to stop him, probably believing he would give out the same 'treatment' as his brother had.

"Nice job back there," Booker said as he and Tom headed up the steps towards the chapel, Tom following behind Dennis. "I mean, I never knew you had that in you, Tommy."

"Maybe certain issues in my life made me more pissed and aggressive than normal," Tom replied lightly, looking at Dennis when he stopped, a serious expression on his face.

"Hey, wait, what?" Booker asked. "We talked about that, and you-"

"I was joking," Tom cut in, laughing. "You really need to chill out, Booker. I said I believed you, and I do, okay?"

Booker nodded, relief spreading across his features. "Maybe you need to go back to being the Tommy I first met, huh? You never were a bitch then."

"Shut up," Tom hissed, pushing past Dennis roughly and hurrying up the stairs.

"Hey, wait!" Dennis called after the other man, quickly following. "C'mon, Tommy, it was a joke!"

Tom had already disappeared inside and Dennis sighed. Tom was really starting to confuse him, and he wasn't sure what the hell was going on anymore – one minute Tom had been joking and laughing, and the next he had been mad and rushing off. Well, maybe Dennis shouldn't have called him a bitch, but still, he thought Tom would have taken it as a joke, and not like he did. Knowing he had to go fix things, Dennis sighed again, not really wanting to deal with Tom, although he knew he had to. His mind set with his decision, Dennis pulled on the door's handles and headed into the familiar building, his thoughts being drowned out by the chapel's workplace chatter. It was either talk to Tom now or later, and there was a chance Tom would be worse off later. Since now was his best option, Dennis headed towards Tom desk, where Tom had just fallen into his chair heavily and Dennis sighed once more – he did not want to deal with an angry Tom Hanson although he knew his options were limited. He continued that way, albeit cautiously, and actually grinned when he saw some sort of smile playing on Tom 's lips... Wait, did that mean Tom was happy that he was heading his way? Booker shook his head, knowing Tom just barely liked him, and pushed all thoughts of any possible friendship between them to the back of his mind – he really liked Tom Hanson but knew he had already messed up things between them, and knew that he would be lucky enough to just apologize to the other man. Nope, Tom Hanson was not an option for Dennis Booker, and the younger man concluded that that was the best that he was going to get.

Tom entered the chapel quickly, knowing that Dennis had only been joking and that he shouldn't be taking the situation so serious, but he was confused and had thought being away from the other man would be a good idea. Because he was falling for Booker, and was pretty damn confused as to why now, why fall for him after what he had thought had happened. Maybe because he had seen that side of Booker that was rare yet beautiful – he was like a drug and Tom found he wanted more, he needed more -- he yearned for more yet at the same time wanted to hit Booker, to yell and scream, and ask why? Why the hell had he gotten Tom so messed up with one mistake? Yes, it had partly been Tom's doing, but most of it had been Booker for not stopping, for not leaving Tom alone. But Tom was finding his want for Dennis Booker becoming stronger than his hate, which was why, after falling as gracefully as an elephant into his chair, he was glad to see Dennis' destination upon entering the chapel to be his desk. Because he wasn't mad at Booker, not for calling him a bitch, at least, because yes, that had been a joke; nope, he was just confused and in need of answers that he knew he would have trouble finding.

TBC...