Author's Note: Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who continues to stick with this story and special thanks to those who've taken the time to leave a comment. I always enjoy hearing what you guys are thinking about the story as we go. Also, head's up that the rating for this chapter jumps a bit.

Shawn holds his breath and waits as Cory struggles to find the words to say what Shawn just knows he is going to say. This is it. This is where it ends. Shawn's heart feels like a hermit crab retreating into its shell as he prepares himself for the blow.

Cory isn't even looking at him, the coward. The least he could do is have the balls to look Shawn in the face as he destroys him.

"I...I kissed Tom last night," Cory says finally, his voice wavering.

This seems like an odd entry point into the topic, Shawn thinks, but he waits for more. Of course there's going to be more; Cory just has to get to it.

After a moment of hesitation, Cory continues in a rushed stream of words. "I mean, he kissed me. He, you know, he did it first. But I...I participated too. I kissed him back, Shawn. I let it go on for far too long before I stopped it. I should've stopped it the second it started happening, I know. I don't know what's wrong with me...I mean, I do. I...I liked it. It was flattering and he was a good kisser, but...that doesn't mean anything. Shawnie, I swear to god it doesn't mean anything. I'm so sorry. I wish it didn't happen, but it did, and I feel so bad. I'm so sorry, Shawnie, I'm so sorry."

Shawn waits for Cory to go on. When Cory doesn't say anything more, just continues to sit there staring into the rug, looking for all the world like he's about to keel over, Shawn tries to coax him to continue. "So...what else?"

"Huh?"

"Get to the rest of it." Shawn closes his eyes and puts a hand to his temple, bracing for the worst.

"What do you mean? That's what happened."

Shawn opens one eye to peer over at him. "That's it?"

Cory finally lifts his head and looks at him. "Well, yeah."

"You didn't even sleep with him?"

"What? Of course not."

"Blow him? Nothing?"

"No!"

Shawn can't quite process this information. Then relief floods over him in cold chills all over his skin. He starts to laugh.

Cory's staring at him now.

Shawn's laughing so hard there are tears in his eyes. He grabs Cory's face and kisses him, laughing through it. Cory shakes him off roughly.

"Why are you laughing?"

"I thought you were leaving me!"

Cory furrows his brow and then repeats, as if Shawn has missed it, "I kissed Tom."

Shawn dismisses that with a wave of his hand. "Eh, I thought you guys were fucking by now for sure..."

"What? How long have you been thinking that?"

"I dunno. A few weeks." The thought now seems absurd to Shawn. In half a second, the idea of Cory leaving him for Tom has gone from a dreadful certainty to a joke. Shawn's heart feels lighter than it has in months.

But Cory's tone is not light at all. "You thought that all this time and you never said anything?"

"I figured you were either gonna get it out of your system or you were gonna leave me," Shawn shrugs. Then he grins and shakes his head in amazement. "God, I'm so glad you're not leaving. I thought for sure you'd-"

"What the hell is the matter with you?"

Shawn stops smiling then and looks at him. He doesn't know that he's ever seen Cory look so angry. "I don't know," Shawn says uncertainly, "What's wrong with me now?"

"If you thought I was cheating on you, why would you just let that happen?"

"I don't know," Shawn says again, his enthusiasm fading as it becomes clear that Cory's genuinely mad at him. "I guess I figured if you wanted to leave me for him, there wasn't anything I could do about it."

Saying this out loud, it sounds lame to Shawn. He's embarrassed to suddenly recognize his own passivity. Why the fuck didn't he have any instinct to fight to keep the person he loves?

"That sounds really bad, doesn't it?" He says, but Cory ignores him.

"Do I mean that little to you?"

"No, no, it's not like that at all," Shawn says and puts his hand on Cory's arm, but Cory shakes him off and stands up. He stalks to the front hall and Shawn races behind him. He watches, stomach turning over, as Cory yanks his coat from the closet and starts buttoning it up.

"You going?" Shawn asks. It seems now like his relief was for nothing; Cory's leaving him anyway.

Cory pauses, then starts unbuttoning all the buttons he just did up and throws his coat back in the closet. "No," he says, pushing past Shawn and heading back into the living room. "I'm staying right here and we're gonna have this out."

Shawn takes a second to close his eyes and thank God or whoever before he follows him and sits down on the sofa again, waiting obediently for Cory to blow up at him. Cory fumes for a few moments, gathering up all his anger. This is not going to be good.

Eventually, Cory speaks. "I threw away everything-my entire life, for you. And, what? This is just another relationship to you? Some glorified two-weeker?"

"You know that isn't true."

"How do I know? You never tell me anything, Shawn. But I do know, I do know there's something really wrong if you think I'm screwing around with another guy and you don't even care enough to say Boo about it."

Shawn looks at him standing there, furious and expecting some kind of answer, but he doesn't know what to say. Cory's absolutely right. Something's very wrong. Shawn is irrevocably fucked-up.

His continued silence seems to drive Cory more livid still. "Am I that boring? Am I just...disposable? What's the matter with me that you don't care at all what I do or who I'm with?"

"Nothing's the matter with you," Shawn says, sinking deeper into the sofa and wishing he could just melt away into it, "It's me. I'm really fucked up, Cor."

Cory folds his arms over his chest and waits. Shawn is not going to get away with just leaving it at 'I'm really fucked up,' which is too often his default explanation for everything. So Shawn takes a deep breath and thinks through what he wants to say. He has always operated so much more on instinct than on logic that it's difficult to translate into words the feelings that drive his actions, that make him behave in ways which feel perfectly sensible to Shawn but appear ludicrous to somebody as even-keeled as Cory.

"First of all, I love you." Shawn says, "I never loved anybody else like I love you. Never will. I know that. And I know you love me too." He looks at Cory carefully as he says this, to make sure that he knows it's true. Then he continues reluctantly, "But I also know that everybody who ever loved me, or said they loved me, or was supposed to even pretend that they loved me, they all left. Everybody eventually goes somewhere else to someplace better. With someone better. I get left behind, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I guess I thought, you know, why would anything I do now make a difference when nothing I ever did before changed anything?"

Cory takes this in, then sighs deeply. "How much more do you need from me to trust that I love you, and that I'm not going anywhere?"

Shawn smiles bitterly. He is such a walking whirlpool of need, sucking up everything everyone has to give and more. And what the hell does he ever give back? Just more need and insecurity. Always more need and insecurity.

"I trust that you love me," Shawn says, being careful to respond as honestly as possible, "I don't know if I'm capable of trusting that you're not going to leave me. I don't know how to believe that that's not some inevitability that I'm powerless to stop."

Cory sits down on the coffee table, facing him. The fury has disappeared from his expression, but the frustration and hurt is still there. "I don't know how to fix that," he says.

"I know." He wishes that Cory didn't always feel like he had to fix everything. Shawn also wishes that he he could stop being the a person who always needs fixing. Why can't Shawn just grow up already and be like a normal person? Why does he have to make everybody's lives so much harder? "I'm sorry," he says.

Cory picks up Shawn's hand and starts stroking it absently, forgiving Shawn for his flaws without having to say so. "I still don't understand," he says, "Why you didn't even say anything if you thought that was really happening. Why didn't you at least say, 'Please don't do this'?"

Shawn gazes over Cory, taking in the familiar shape of his ears, his halo of slightly overgrown curls, the Mr. Potatohead nose that Shawn loves so much. Then he sighs. "I guess part of it was because I still think you deserve someone better than me. So I thought I should let you go be happy. I spent my whole life trying to make you happy, and it never mattered if what made you happy is what made me happy, I went with it. Twenty-something years...that's a hard habit to break. I didn't want to make you feel bad for wanting something better."

Cory shakes his head in frustration. "This is all so stupid. I hate that you think that's what love is supposed to look like. It kills me. And...and, Jesus, why would you ever think Tom was better than you?"

Shawn bristles a little at having to talk about Tom now, finding that he does indeed have a little flame of jealousy inside him when he thinks about that asshole touching Cory. "You know," Shawn says weakly, "He's like you...All-American Mr. 4H. He's smart and good-looking and really together. He's everything you want-he's tall and he's got muscles and all that...He's not skinny and trashy and fucked-up. All I've got is hair."

"I love your hair," Cory murmurs, almost as if it's a reflex just at the mere mention of Shawn's hair. Then he gets back on point and says, "I don't care if he's tall and got muscles. That doesn't matter to me."

"Bullshit. You never stop going on about it. You're obsessed with him and all those other guys at the gym, all the guys who look like that. What am I supposed to think about that? I'm never gonna look like them. I can't compete with that if that's what you want. It seems really important to you."

Cory looks at him in shock for a moment, then he throws his head back and shakes it in disbelief. "No, no, no," he says. He picks up both Shawn's hands now and starts rubbing them as he speaks. "Shawnie, I don't want you to look like that. I love the way you look. Sure, I'd like you to be a bit healthier, I worry aboutcha, but I'd never trade you in a million years for one of those...Toms."

"Then why-"

"I thought that's what you liked. You know, 'cause you were with Tom before. And I sure as heck can't compete with that either. You have so many people trying to get with you all the time I just...It gets a little hard not to have a complex about it."

Shawn lets this information sink in. He's been so used to people hitting on him since he was a young teen that he doesn't even really notice it anymore. He remembers, though, how that used to drive Cory bananas with insecurity even when they were just friends. It strikes Shawn that he's been selfish not to even consider that this might be a much bigger deal to Cory now that they're actually together.

"You know," he tells Cory, "That whole gym thing is new. Tom didn't look like that when he and I were together. I mean, part of the reason I liked him was because he reminded me of you."

"I know. I saw the pictures."

"What pictures?"

"And the video."

"What video?"

Cory has an odd expression on his face now. He climbs back onto the couch and squeezes up tight against Shawn, rests his head on his shoulder and takes Shawn's hands in his again. Then, awkwardly, he recounts the day he went to Tom's apartment, how he snooped through Tom's old photo and video files, saw the entire history of Shawn and Tom's relationship documented in photos, saw Tom and Shawn fucking in low-res video.

Shawn's stomach turns over as Cory describes it all and he feels a queer mixture of violated and ashamed. It's like Cory time-traveled back to one of the worst points in Shawn's life and gawked at everything Shawn never wanted him to see.

"Do you have any idea how wrong it was for you to do that?" Shawn asks him when it seems that Cory's come to the end of his tale.

"I do."

"You didn't just violate Tom's privacy, you know."

"I know. I wish I never saw any of it. I'm sorry."

Shawn is quiet, thinking about how, no matter what he does he can never seem to get away from his past. Then he asks, "Does it change how you feel about me?"

"I guess I understand better why you don't like talking about that part of your life."

"No shit."

And then maybe it's that this last story is just one heavy conversation too far, but Shawn feels every bit of the cold he's been ignoring for the past 48 hours. He sniffles and gives an involuntary shudder and that seems to snap Cory into mother mode. He hustles Shawn back to bed, gets him medicine and closes the blinds.

"Sleep, darling," he says and he tucks the covers tighter around him. It's always ridiculous when Cory calls him 'darling.' Still, it feels nice to be babied a little and the siren song of his pillow is calling to Shawn. It feels like he hasn't slept in days. Between Sadie, Anna, and now Cory, this weekend has put him through an emotional laundry wringer. Just as he's drifting blissfully to sleep, though, Cory calls to him from the doorway.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"If you ever get to thinking again that I'm cheating on you or gonna leave you for somebody else, do me a favor and pipe up, huh? Maybe say something like 'Cory, dear, don't leave me.' It'd do wonders for my ego."

Shawn rolls over and looks at him standing there. "Cory, dear," he says, "Don't leave me." The he rolls back over and mumbles into his pillow. "You're such a big, muscle-y, manly man. I've never liked fuckin' anybody as much as I like fuckin' you."

"Ooh, careful," Cory says, "You'll give me a big head."

Shawn's smiling as he falls asleep.

While Shawn sleeps, Cory busies himself cleaning up the breakfast dishes and the debris of a weekend during which both Shawn and Sadie were leaving piles of used Kleenex and juice boxes and soup bowls on every available surface. Then he unpacks his suitcase, sorts his laundry and finally, when he can find no other task to distract him, strips off the clothes he's been wearing since the conference the previous day, and crawls into bed.

Although he's exhausted, Cory's also wound-up from everything that has happened and the weight of their fight. It's going to be a while before he'll be able to sleep. So he lies here and thinks about how easily everything just went to hell in their relationship these past couple months and it scares him. He's always prided himself on taking care of the people he loves, but it's unnerving how a few thoughtless actions can cause so much damage. He vows to be better. About everything. And somehow, somehow, he's going to win Shawn's full and unqualified trust. He's not sure how he's going to do it, but Cory's just simply not going to be able to rest in his eternal grave until this is accomplished. That's all there is to it.

Cory watches Shawn sleep for a while, taking reassurance in the gentle movement of his chest. He's looking better lately, getting filled back in around the ribs and losing that awful pile of bones look that makes Cory's heart hurt. Cory makes a mental note to be sure Shawn keeps doing whatever it is that's working, the shakes, the swimming, whatever.

The thought of the swimming, though, makes Cory think about the gym, which reminds him afresh just how badly the whole Tom thing has screwed up his life. They're going to have to find a new gym to go to, is Cory's initial thought, but that quickly piggybacks onto the far more important thought that Cory's going to have to find a new job, probably in a new field, with no work references for the past almost-year, and no sense at all of where to begin. All of this makes him feel absolutely hopeless. Cory likes having a clear path of what he is supposed to do at any given time, where he is supposed to go, what is supposed to happen. He has none of that right now. Instead he's back to being directionless, just as he was before Shawn got him the job with Tom. This time it's worse, though, because Cory's not walking away from a career he never liked much anyway; he's walking away from something he really loved, something that felt blessedly right after years of jobs that never felt like they fit at all. Between being with Shawn and having a job that he loved, it had seemed for a few months here like everything in Cory's life was finally going the way it should. And now he's screwed all that up.

He sighs and focuses back on Shawn, vulnerable and sublime in his sleep. At least Cory's screw-up hasn't completely torpedoed everything. If Cory only got to hold onto one element of his happiness-Shawn or the job-he's glad he got the right one. It seems selfish to want even more than that.

Perhaps feeling the pressure of Cory's gaze on him, Shawn wakes up and squints at him. "Hey, beautiful," he says, his voice still croaky with sleep, "What's up?

"I quit my job," Cory says, "I forgot to tell you that part."

"Okay."

"Okay? It's not great, Shawn. I don't know what I'm gonna do now."

"You're gonna embark on a new and exciting career as a stay-at-home sex slave."

Cory laughs despite himself. Shawn takes this as an opening and gets to his knees, crawls on top of him. He stares him down for a moment, eyes deadly serious. It occurs to Cory that Shawn looks much older up close; his smile keeps him looking younger at a superficial distance, but at the distance only Cory is privileged, you can see all the tiny flaws and marks he has accumulated. There's always something a bit reassuring about this; his boy is tougher than he looks.

Cory catches a glimpse of mischievousness in Shawn's eyes for just a second before Shawn regains his carefully composed solemnity. "Cory?"

"Yeah, babe?" Cory replies, using Shawn's endearment of choice in an attempt to throw him off his serious act.

It doesn't appear to have that effect, though. Shawn holds steady. He puts his face right up to Cory's and puts on a low, gravely voice, "I don't want you fucking or kissing or so much as making googly eyes at another guy again. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"And don't think I've forgiven you. You're gonna have to do a lot to make up for your little Seattle escapade."

"Pretty sure I saw you in our bed with your ex-girlfriend this morning."

Shawn rolls his eyes. "Don't even joke about that." Then he snaps back into character and begins kissing Cory, savagely.

Cory closes his eyes, enjoying this, and puts his hand on Shawn's cock, but Shawn removes it, presses Cory's hand back into the mattress. "I'll tell you what to do," Shawn instructs him.

Cory plays along. He tries to lay limp as Shawn continues kissing him and pressing his body down against him, but Cory's hands keep finding themselves reaching for Shawn, trying to grab him around the sides or to stroke his funny little patch of chest hair. All he wants to do today is touch him. But each time, Shawn thrusts Cory's hands back down.

Cory's hard as a rock and Shawn rubs their cocks against each other, teasing him as his licks and bites Cory's ear. Cory squirms at the tickling near his neck and Shawn slaps him. Cory looks at him surprise and Shawn says, "You hold still, jack-ass."

Cory laughs at him and Shawn slaps him again and glares at him with a look that gives Cory chills. He knows Shawn's in character, but it scares him a little bit. It's also turning him on.

Shawn works his way down Cory's body, biting and grabbing and handling him roughly. He stakes his territory out across his skin, making Cory squirm then forcing him back down into a completely vulnerable position each time. Cory pants and struggles to be still as Shawn brands his property and smacks him back into line as needed. Then he rolls Cory onto his back and holds his wrists together painfully as he dry humps him from behind, his stiff dick rubbing alongside the back of Cory's hip, feeling colossal. He gnaws on Cory's shoulders as he does this, and Cory bites into the pillows to keep from crying out.

"All right," Shawn snarls and slaps Cory's ass, "Enough of that crap." He climbs off of Cory and commands, "Get the lube."

Cory does as his is told, fetching the bottle from the nightstand drawer and handing it to Shawn. He takes it in one hand and shoves Cory up against the wall with the other. He presses Cory's face into the old, pre-war plaster and growls in his ear, "Don't even fucking think of moving."

Cory has only a second or two to be amused by this before Shawn is lubed up and entering him. "Oh, god," Cory cries, "Oh, god, that's good."

"Shut up," Shawn says and thrusts again, slamming Cory hard into the wall.

"God, I love you."

"Fuck you." Shawn thrusts again and Cory is just all bodiless sensation, not even noticing as his jaw connects with the wall, overcome by how good it feels to have Shawn in him again.

"You're mine," Shawn says, thrusting again. "Mine," he thrusts again, "Mine. You hear me, shithead?"

"Yeah," Cory gasps, "Yeah."

"I'm not sharing you with fucking anyone anymore." Shawn thrusts again and Cory tastes blood in his mouth but doesn't care.

"You belong," Shawn thrusts again, his fingers digging deep and hard into the skin on the back of Cory's shoulder, "to me."

Then Shawn comes and Cory comes too and melts into the wall, Shawn collapsing against him. They pant for a few moments, sweaty and satiated, their bodies like one mass of skin and wobbly muscle and cum. Eventually, Shawn stands back on dizzy feet and leads Cory to the bed with him. They fall onto the mattress side by side and Cory's eyes loll over the ceiling, still seeing stars and wonderful shapeless things. Later, he'll be concerned that they made a mess, that he's all sticky and stinks to high heaven with sweat and cum, but these facts don't even register right now. All he knows is that he feels fantastic.

He can't really think of anything until Shawn's leaning over him, looking concerned. Shawn puts his thumb to Cory's lip and Cory realizes he's bleeding. He either bit his lip or smashed it into the wall, he's not sure. It stings a little now that he notices it.

"Aw," Shawn says softly and sucks the blood off his thumb, "I'm sorry."

Cory runs his hand across his own mouth and then wipes the blood across Shawn's cheek like Indian war paint. Shawn smiles in response. When he smiles, he is just about the most handsome guy Cory's ever seen.

"You're so good-lookin'," Cory says.

"Fuck you," Shawn laughs, and lays back down beside him.

Cory sighs, still feeling tingling in his toes and in his belly and his fingertips. "If I'm ever dumb enough to leave you, Shawnie, you have my full permission to kill me."

Shawn doesn't say anything back to that, just laces his fingers between Cory's and holds his hand until they both pass out in lazy, satisfied bliss.

It's not clear what time it is when Cory wakes up from what feels like a 1,000-year-long nap. The clock reads 3:26 and he squints at it, trying to remember if the dot beside the numbers indicates a.m. or p.m. He decides it's a.m. He rubs his eyes then turns on the lamp. Directly across from him he is greeted by the sight of what they did to the wall. The plaster is cracked-it's always cracking, but this pretty bad-and there's blood and dried semen smeared all over. He tells himself that they'll need to take care of this before Cecilia arrives to clean this week. He's pretty sure she already suspects they're kinky and weird, but he doesn't want to give her any evidence to confirm this. Or more evidence, anyway.

He pulls on pajama pants and an undershirt, realizing after that it's Shawn's undershirt and skintight on him. He's too lazy to bother switching it for one of his own, though, and heads off to figure out where Shawn is and to find something to eat. His stomach is growling.

Cory finds Shawn in the dining room, frowning over some booklets, pen poised over a legal pad. There are papers and pamphlets strewn across the table. Shawn acknowledges him with a nod and bites down on his pen as he continues to read the page he has open. He accepts a kiss on the cheek as Cory passes him on his way into the kitchen.

Cory fixes himself a bowl of cereal, grabs a banana for Shawn, and returns to the dining room. He sits down, passes the banana to Shawn and shovels in two quick mouthfuls of cereal.

Shawn sets the banana aside. "I already ate."

"There's always room for a banana."

"Fine." Shawn sits back in his chair and peels the banana. As he eats it, he continues reading one of the booklets, then glances up at Cory. He swallows a bite and asks, "That my shirt?"

"Uh-huh," Cory nods. Then he notices that the undershirt Shawn has on is loose and hanging low on his shoulders. "That mine?"

Shawn looks down at himself in surprise. "Yeah, I think it is."

"Should we trade?"

Shawn considers this, continuing to appraise Cory in his too-small shirt, then shakes his head and pops the end of the banana in his mouth. "Nah," he says around it, "I like it when you look like you're going cruising."

Shawn is about to lay the empty banana peel down directly on the table, but Cory snatches it away before he does. Cory takes it in the kitchen and throws it out properly. When he returns, he resumes eating his cereal and asks, "How long have you been up?"

"I dunno. Couple hours." Shawn's attention has returned to the stacks of pamphlets and booklets.

Cory cranes his neck, trying to read them upside-down. They seem to be something to do with schools. There's pictures of smiling children in uniforms on all the covers. "What's all this?"

"Nothing," Shawn replies, "Don't worry about it."

Cory continues reading the titles of the brochures with his head turned to the side. He reaches over to pick one up but Shawn stops him.

"Really, don't worry about it."

Cory retracts his hand and watches quietly as Shawn flips through one of the booklets to a page he's marked with a Post-It and makes note of something on the legal pad. He looks stressed.

"Anna's really pumping you to pay for a fancier school, huh?"

"No," Shawn says, grabbing a different brochure and paging through it with a deep furrow in his brow, "No, it's my idea..."

Cory's surprised by this and starts to ask him about it, but Shawn cuts him off before he can speak. "Listen, Cor, I gotta concentrate, okay? There's a lot of information here and you know thinking's not my strong suit."

"Okay," Cory says, bristling at Shawn's typical 'I'm stupid' statement, but deciding it's not worth it to say anything when Shawn's already obviously irritated. They've only just avoided a disastrous fight this morning; no need to push it.

Cory carries his bowl into the kitchen, washes it out and deposits it in the dishwasher. Then he cleans up the mess left behind from Shawn's meal earlier. It looks like he made macaroni and cheese; half of it is still in the pot, hardened like lava. As Cory scrapes the pot clean under hot water, he muses that one upside of his new employment status is that he can start doing all the cooking and make sure Shawn eats something that doesn't come out of a box or a can.

As he finishes cleaning the pot and lays it out to dry, Cory spies two empty nutritional shake cans on the breakfast bar. He drops them in the recycle bin and takes a moment to appreciate that Shawn is trying to be better about stuff. As long as Shawn is trying, and not just letting himself sink into self-destructive spirals every time something goes wrong, it feels like they're going to be okay. Cory's impressed at how very much Shawn didn't fall apart this weekend, despite Sadie, Anna, and Cory all tossing him emotional hand grenades. He handled it all remarkably well. Sadie seems to bring out the best in him.

And now he's out there struggling to do something about schooling for Sadie and you're in here, Matthews, avoiding the kid stuff like always.

Cory thinks about what Eric said about Cory already having the opportunity to be a parent right under his nose and avoiding it for stupid reasons. Shawn's trying to be better about things, trying to be a better person. Now's a great chance for Cory to put forth a little effort too. He snaps off the tap, dries his hands briskly on a dishtowel, and heads back out to the dining room, determined.

Shawn has a hand buried in his hair and is bent over one of the booklets. He looks up in annoyance as Cory sits down across from him.

"Tell me what this is all about," Cory says.

"Really, Cor, you don't have to-"

"I just want to know what you're working on."

Shawn looks at him warily, then sits back in his chair and sighs. "So Sadie's really smart, but her shitty school doesn't have the budget to put her in a gifted program, so I'm trying to convince Anna we should put her in private school. I went to visit a bunch of schools and they gave me a ton of information, and now I don't know how to make heads or tails of it all. I wanna make, like, a chart, or something to give to Anna to try and show her what our options are, but..." Shawn gestures helplessly over the spread of paperwork.

"Okay," Cory nods, being careful not to let on how impressed he is by the fact that Shawn actually cares about this and has put in so much legwork, "How about a spreadsheet?"

"Yeah," Shawn snorts, "Lemme just whip one up."

It takes Cory a second to realize that Shawn actually thinks this is a ludicrous suggestion. Between Cory's business degree and years spent working in the insurance industry, it hasn't occurred to him that not everybody dream-works their way through tables and spreadsheets in their sleep. "Just use Excel. It's not that hard."

"Yeah, well it is for me. Here," Shawn holds up the legal pad on which he's written a Pro/Con list for two of the schools and mostly scratched out a list for a third and says, "White trash spreadsheet."

"Let me help you, then."

Shawn flushes and takes the notepad back, lays his arm over it with obvious embarrassment. "No. No, Cory. Really. I know you don't...Don't worry about it. This isn't your problem."

"I'd like it to be."

Shawn looks up in surprise and Cory repeats more firmly, "Let me help."

Shawn holds his gaze and Cory can tell he's trying to decipher just how much Cory means by this statement. Cory doesn't correct or clarify further, just allows Shawn to take it for whatever he wants it to mean.

"All right," Shawn says finally, giving Cory a grateful smile, "Thanks."

They settle in among the papers and begin, at long last, working together.

Shawn is hollering in the deepest baritone he can manage, his voice echoing off the shower tiles, "Sing to joy and gladness now and ever more to freedom's song! Open up your heart's desire with love that's ever-lasting!"

Cory is grinning at him under the streaming water of the shower spigot and shaking his head. "I'll never forgive Angela for getting you hooked on all those classical records," he says.

Shawn ignores him and continues singing, pounding out an imaginary timpani on his chest, Tarzan-style, "Let this magic bring together," he drops his voice impossibly low here, "all who dwell upon the Earth..."

Cory rolls his eyes and begins rubbing shampoo into his curls.

Shawn continues, conducting with his hand now while doing his best impression of the deep choral singers, "All mankind shall be together and peace shall reign upon the Earth..."

He starts to carry on with the next verse, then can't keep it up anymore and starts laughing at himself.

"You're in a good mood, huh?" Cory remarks as he tilts his head back to rinse.

"Mmm," Shawn agrees, stealing a quick, soapy kiss before leaning back to better admire his boyfriend. One of the reasons he'd pushed for them to buy this apartment over some of the others they were looking at was because the shower was slightly oversized. Shawn loves hopping into the shower with Cory every chance he can. Sometimes they have shower sex, but most of the time Shawn just enjoys sharing that intimate space with him, watching Cory clean himself and be all casually naked and gorgeous.

Usually, Cory ends up kicking Shawn out so he can concentrate on getting his business done and getting where he needs to be in a reasonable amount of time, but today he uttered no complaint when Shawn hopped in after him. Today is magic. Today is just for them. They've made plans to have an actual date tonight, going out to dinner and maybe a movie, just spending time together again and winding down from the tension of the past couple days.

Shawn can't get over what a relief it is to have all that school stuff straightened out. He hadn't realized how much it was weighing on him, among the many other things that have been weighing on him lately. But then Cory had swooped in and, in less than two hours time, turned that stack of overwhelming information into a couple of simple charts that Shawn could finally make sense of and use to make his case to Anna. Cory's so much smarter than anyone gives him credit for and so very good at that kind of stuff.

Overcome with affection, Shawn leans in and nibbles at Cory's ear and Cory pushes him off. Shawn smiles and reluctantly reaches for his own shampoo.

As Shawn suds up his hair, he marvels at the way Cory had not only thrown himself into helping organize the information about the schools, but also the way he kept asking Shawn about different things related to Sadie. Then later he'd joined in when Shawn was video-chatting with Sadie, not finding an excuse to slip into one of the other rooms like he usually does when they chat. All of a sudden, Cory seems to want to be involved in Sadie's life in a way he never did before. Maybe it's not a conscious thing at all, maybe it's a fluke, but it makes Shawn giddy with happiness. He hadn't realized how much keeping his life with Sadie separate from his life with Cory had been depressing him. Being able to share that with Cory just feels wonderful. His two favorite people in the world...Shawn gets almost choked up by how much he loves them both.

"Was I the first guy you kissed?"

Shawn looks at Cory in surprise, disrupted from his thoughts. "Huh?"

"You know, that first time with you and me in my parents' garage. Was that your first kiss?"

Shawn snorts. "That was far from my first kiss."

"No, I mean your first kiss with a guy."

"Oh." Shawn thinks briefly about a couple of anonymous men at the bus station, about the man who lived downstairs from Jonathan Turner who sometimes bought Shawn gifts and exchanged them for kisses and a little groping...those uncomfortable years in high school when Shawn only fooled around with men in secret and kept the rendezvous so hidden in his mind that he barely remembers them himself now. But none of that, none of those older men, had been anything as innocent as Shawn's first kiss with a guy. That must have come before. Then he remembers who it was, and his ears start to burn a little. He turns away from Cory and becomes very focused on conditioning his hair.

"Was that your first kiss with a guy," Shawn asks in hopes of distracting Cory, "That time in the garage?"

"Of course it was."

"Aww. I'm touched, Cor. I like being your first."

"Didn't you know that?"

Shawn pushes Cory out of the way so he can get a more direct position under the shower head to rinse his hair. "Guess I probably thought so."

"So that wasn't your first time, though?"

Shawn continues rinsing his hair. His hair will be the most thoroughly-rinsed hair that ever was. "What does it matter?"

"It doesn't," Cory says, squeezing body wash into his hand and soaping up, "I just realized it was something I didn't know about you and was curious."

"Fair enough," Shawn says and accepts the bottle from Cory. As he begins soaping up as well, he asks, "So, was I everything you hoped I'd be as your first male kiss?"

"Why are you avoiding answering the question?"

"I'm not," Shawn lies, turning slightly so Cory can't see his face, "It's so not a big deal."

"Then who was it? Someone I know?"

"No one. Like I said, it's not a big deal."

"You're making it a big deal. Who was it?"

Shawn groans and closes his eyes. "Frankie. Okay. You happy?"

"Frankie who?"

Shawn opens his eyes and raises his eyebrow. Then understanding blooms on Cory's face. "Frankie Stecchino?!"

Cory looks both horrified and confused. Shawn resumes rinsing himself under the shower head.

"When did you guys even hang out?" Cory asks.

"He was the only other guy in the trailer park my own age who wasn't a total gearhead or stoner or a budding psychopath. I didn't spend my entire life at your house, you know."

"What the hell did you guys even talk about?"

Shawn glares at him. "Poetry." He's practically daring Cory to laugh.

Cory doesn't laugh, though. He just seems to be thinking about all of this as he takes his turn under the shower head to rinse. Shawn gets out of his way and takes a seat on the built-in bench at the end of the tub. He waits for Cory to ask him a dozen questions, but Cory doesn't.

"Herman's getting a Ph.D.," Shawn says.

"Really?"

Shawn nods. "Got a full ride to Penn State and he's just been going from there. Surprised Morgan didn't tell you."

"I guess I never asked. You guys still keep in touch?"

"Once in a while. Frankie's a corrections officer at the same pen where Uncle Mike's locked up. He still writes a little too. I sent him a manuscript of my first Cheaty book before it got published. He had some useful thoughts on it."

"Huh. That's interesting," Cory says.

Shawn shrugs, feeling a bit exposed. Then he hears something and pokes his head out of the shower. "Your phone's ringing," he tells Cory.

"Eh, whoever it is can wait."

Then Shawn pokes his head out again. "Now my phone's ringing. Somebody's trying to get a hold of you."

Cory shuts off the water, grabs a towel and dashes out. Shawn waits and shivers in the suddenly cool air. When Cory doesn't return, he wraps himself in a bathrobe and towels off his hair. He can hear Cory on the phone down the hall, but can't make out what he's saying. Cory's off the phone by the time Shawn emerges. He's sitting on the bed with his phone still in his hand, looking stunned.

"What's up?" Shawn asks, sitting down beside him.

"Nana Boo-Boo passed away."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry, Cor." Shawn puts his arm over Cory's shoulder and Cory leans into him, still seeming a bit dazed.

"God," Shawn mutters, kissing the top of Cory's curls, "What a lousy couple of days."

Cory doesn't say anything in response to this. They sit in silence for a few minutes, both thinking what Shawn imagines to be completely different thoughts. And it's only when he feels the dampness against his chest that Shawn realizes Cory has begun to cry.