It's nice being out with classmates. I'd almost forgotten how much I like to socialize if given the opportunity, and I have a weakness for dining out—making our stop at Red Robin's an added delight. The unexplained bitterness I'd felt when the two blonds and Kenny arrived at my house melts away like snow in the summer sun, leaving me to wonder what I'd been so sour about in the first place. Placing the menu back on the table I glance around the place. The usual Friday night bustle fills the large spaces along with various colors, sounds, and the smell of burgers and fries. A smile forms on my face at the pure chaos of it all, delighted to be mixing in with the crowd.

"Well fellas, what're your plans after graduation next Friday?" Butters asks, "Kenny and I are gonna head out to Denver and start gettin' settled so we can apply for the summer classes at the College of Aurora. I'm super excited!"

Tweek twitches and lets out a low groan. "I don't even w-want to think about it, man! If I s-s-stay I'll be stuck h-helping with the family—ACK—business. I-it's shit! Total shit!" The twitchy blond buries his face in his hands. "B-but what else can I do? I don't know!"

"Aw, calm down Tweek. It'll be all right. What 'bout your art? They'll probably sell if you gave 'em a chance."

My eyebrows rise in surprise as I turn towards the skinny, twitching young man. "You paint?"

Brown eyes peek up at me between long fingers and slowly the young man nods. "You should see 'em Pip!" Butters exclaims pulling out his phone, "They're real pretty and seem to just burst with energy. 'Ere take a look."

He shoves his phone in my direction and curious I gaze down at it, eyes widening when I see the picture. Even though it's a bit blurry and dim there no doubt that the paining of an otherworldly landscape is a variety of color and vibrancy. The strokes and thickness of the paint breathing life into the two-dimensional design as they flow together to weave the limbs, leaves, stars, sky, and water. I look back at Tweek in shock and disbelief.

"You painted this?"

The young man scoffs, straightening his back to look me dead in the eye. "You don't have to look so surprised," he whispers, obviously hurt.

"No, no, no, I didn't mean it as an insult," I quickly say, turning my gaze back to the painting, "It's just…I wasn't expecting it to be this beautiful."

Tweek lets out a soft squeak but before I can turn back to him the waiter comes to take our orders, and the conversation becomes forgotten as the night moves on. Our talks drift to the food, movies, and recent events in the news. The three of us deciding to head out to the theatre for a late night show. It was as I was buying my ticket however that my hands brushed against something foreign in my pocket. Startled I grip the cool bulk piece of plastic, the crinkled ends of paper biting into my flesh. My eyes widen in realization as I take the ticket and card back from the theatre employee, a stone of dread settling in my stomach.

A cold hand grips my elbow, the fingers twitching as I'm pulled towards the theatre. Butters wraps one of his arms around my neck in a more friendly gesture, saying, "You're gonna love this movie! I mean, who doesn't like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?"

Tweek lets out a violent twitch as he lets go of my elbow, a sour look on his face. "I-it'd be better if frickin' Michael Bay wasn't p-producing it. That d-dude is a menace to films! Explosion here! Explosion there! Fuck man!"

The young man's expression falls as he starts to mumble under his breath. I look up at Butters. "Ah, he does that all the time. Don't worry 'bout it. He's just been a lil' tense here lately." Blue eyes dart over to the coffee addict before Butters cups a hand over my ear. "Seems Craig has been spending more time with a special someone and been cancelin' on his pal over there."

I turn back towards Tweek, taking note of the dimly highlighted scowl on his face. Huh, well that certainly explains this. Usually the young man is quite pleasant and nice to be around—not foul-mouthed at all. "Craig was suppose to come with us, but canceled last minute," Butters lets out a low whistle, "Never seen the fella so mad."

"What are you two talking about?" the young man in question snaps, voice still rising and lowering in multiple octaves as he speaks but lacking any of the usual stuttering. Butters throws his hands up and my eyes widen at the narrowed brown eyes.

"Aw, shucks I was just a tellin' him about the movie. Did ya know Megan Fox is goin' be in this one? I love watching her onscreen!"

Neither of us replies as we enter the theatre, and as the previews begin to roll we all become silent; focusing on the film.

Personally, I don't find the excitement in action films. Most are mediocre at best, focusing more on the graphics than fleshing out the dialogue and building up the plot to the climax. Of course, I suppose they're better then Hollywood butchering a book I adore by taking their own twist on it. But, still, I can't help but feel my thoughts drift off as the film plays. The nerves in my arm have long since becoming numb from me resting my cheek against the open palm in boredom, my fingers sprawling across my face and pushing the blond locks away. Butters yells at the screen in triumph as one of the protagonist—I don't care to recall his name—lands a hit on the antagonist; Tweek changing his focus from the film to the phone in his hand periodically to angrily push in the keyboard arranged buttons.

I quietly excuse myself and head down the stairs—the loud music and crashing of metal from the film causing a pounding to start in my head. The noise immediately becomes muffled as I exit the room, a sigh of relief leaving my lips as a smile forms on my face. Rubbing the side of my forehead I head to the bathroom hoping that maybe they have some Advil in the dispensers they keep here. Unfortunately, it seems that my stroke of good luck is slowly running out. A 'Sold Out' sticker is plastered against the coin dispenser, leaving the only available items to buy being condoms and cheap 'growth' pills.

Rolling my eyes I carefully step across the red tile floor towards the sink, trying to avoid the growing grim and slime that's accumulating between the tile cracks. I snatch a few paper towels from the side of the sink and run them under the cool tap water before squeezing out the excess water, and placing the cool wet material against my forehead. My reflection gazes back at me from the mirror's depth, the bruises that once decorated my face now nothing more than a slight off-color yellow. Dark circles are beginning to form around my sockets, my lips cracked and spilt from last night. Using my other hand I pull down the scarf and widen my eyes in shock at the size of the hickey along my neck, red marks of what look to be like teeth surrounding it.

Goodness, I think, hastily recovering my neck, I didn't think it was that bad.

A scarlet blush flushing over my cheeks as irritation momentarily plays with my thoughts. These last few days have been too odd to overlook. The tension that hung between us, the lack of horns during our 'date', and the almost lack of horns from…I shake my head, forcing myself to will the lewd memory away. I want to call Satan again—as odd as that sounds—and ask him if this too is normal for a demon coming out of it's heat, but a tremor shoots up my spine at the idea. The drop call I got that night unnerving and feeling me with an unknown dread.

It's been three days since I spoke with Damien's father. Three days. He had said that the heat would last two to three days more tops with Damien recent sluggish behavior, but maybe this'll take a lot longer than the devil thought? Surely the young man wouldn't stay in my house any longer than he needs to, as we haven't always had the best relationship. I hum and lean against the sink countertop. The devil-child has been acting rather strange these past few days though, and in his heat too if what Satan said applies to the noirette. Damien had said he merely doesn't agree with those beliefs, but there's still that instance on Wednesday morning when I had found him sunken in the plaster of the tub. This act seems instinctually—and is by Satan's words—and given his bloodline I don't doubt that.

A rather amusing and heart stopping thought drifts to my mind. Could the antichrist have a soft spot for me, or perhaps be developing a crush on me?

I shake the idea from my head. No, that wouldn't make sense. We've just started becoming civil to one another, there's no room for such intentions and emotions to grow. Besides, what we do is strictly because of his heat…my eyes widen as I think back to the first day this all started. Damien hadn't seemed at all surprised when he knocked on my house that day and found me inside. It was almost like…like he knew I was there. That he…sought me out. He hadn't hesitated in the slightest and pushed himself into my private life. The young man has still been his firey self but…my stomach clenches uncomfortably as my heart flutters. I push myself from the sink and throw the paper towel away.

No. No, no, no, that can't be. If you like someone you don't force something like this on him or her. You don't try to do lewd acts with them while they've repeatedly said 'stop'. You don't let a delicate situation such as this spiral out of control. You…you don't act so cruel and confusing then make kind gestures. Isn't it suppose to be simple? Check yes Juliet and all that? Aren't all relationships—friendship and intimate—like that? You either like them or you don't? Taking a shaky breath I run a hand through my hair, pulling off my trademark hat.

Do I like 'Damien' as I use to know him? Yes.

Do I like 'Damien' as what he's turned into? No. He's cruel in both words and actions.

But… do I like the young man that's been revealed to me during our short civil conversations and comfortable interactions? The person he could become? Yes. Yes, I do. And, that's quite frightening.

He and I…I could see us becoming good friends again if we both tried. Again my heart flutters. Could that be possible though? With all the intimate acts we've done together? Surely time would allow us to look beyond that, make this all a bad memory in our lives. People have stayed friends and have done such acts before, why not us? However, if what I theorize turns out to be true and his feelings go beyond the usual boundary of friendship—a theory I'm finding harder to dismiss as I recall Damien saying it'd be gross to do such acts with Kenny but strangely fine with me—could I return them?

This, I can't answer. I don't have an answer. I doubt it would work out even if I did. Our thoughts and morals are just too different, our paths in life too far apart. It would never work.

"Heya Pip, you alright?" Butters asks, bright blue eyes gazing at me curiously over the front passenger seat. I shrug and fall back into my seat, placed right behind Tweek.

"Got a bit of a headache is all," I reply, "I'm not quite use to a theaters surround sound. A little too loud and I wasn't expecting it. Don't worry about it."

The blond's face falls in concern. "I'm sorry fella. Hey Tweek, do you have an pain medication in here?"

"Wha-what do I look like?" Tweek snaps, hitting the signal to turn, "A fucking—ERK—pharmacist?" Butter's face narrows into a half-hearted glare before he flicks the other on the ear, causing the energetic young man to jump with a shriek and nearing making me hit the seat when the brakes were momentarily hit.

"You don't need to take your sour attitude out on us," Butters gently scolds, fingers clenching his seatbelt tightly, "Stop at a gas stop. We can get medicine there."

Tweek groans but slows down the car to a crawl to pull into a turn lane, sharply replying, "Alright but I want a soda."

"Strawberry?"

"What else would I get?"

Butters face scrunches up in distaste. "That's just gross man." Blue eyes turn towards me, the young man's signature wide smile back on his tan face. "What do you want to drink, buddy?"

I stutter at the question, words becoming caught in my throat. "I-I'm fine, really. I can just take something whenever I get home."

Butters waves off my statement. "Ah, don't sweat it. I wanted a soda myself anyway."

"Oh," I reply, a little put out by the offer, "Well, water would just be fine."

"Alright then, one water for you, a Pepsi for myself, and an abomination of strawberry flavored soda water for the driver."

"It's c-called a—ACK—Sunkist!"

A loud squeak emits from the engine as the gears are switched into park, the sound immediately stopping when Tweek turns the key. "I'll be back in a minute," Butters states before exiting and making a dash for the gas stations convenience store's doors. Tweek sighs and leans over to slam shut the forgotten side passenger door before looking back at me.

"How'd y-you like the—ERK—film?"

I grimace and the young man chuckles. "Yea, m-my thoughts exactly."

"Why'd we go to that one?" I ask, "Not that I didn't mind going, but well…"

"Butters wanted to s-s-see it," he explains with a shrug, "Wouldn't shut u-up 'bout it." A quiet sigh leaves the blond's lips. "He's been—ERK—h-having a shitty week, so y-you know it wouldn't kill me to go."

Brown eyes look back up at me, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I-I'm glad we're alone n-now though because—ACK—I got a q-q-question for you." He pauses. "W-well, more like an accusation."

My small smile falls and my muscles tense at that. Eric has already caught me doing something improper, could Tweek have figured something out too? I pale. Did Eric show him the photo?

"You s-said you didn't have a—ERK—pet," Tweek slowly starts, "However, n-now you do?"

My throat tightens and I quickly sputter out, "Oh, um, yes. His name is Freckles and he's recently come into my care. Why is that odd?"

The young man shrugs. "I d-didn't think you'd be the t-type to lie. Especially over s-something so—ERK—stupid. Where'd you get Freckles?"

"L-Lying?" I blurt out, "I'm not lying. And, he just showed up on my doorstep one day." I glance out the car window, my eyes traveling over the magenta's and pink that follow the setting sun; the calm blue hue of night's descent already calling out the stars to play. "Little bugger forced his way inside and…I'm just too nice to throw him out."

Tweek hums and gazes at me with a bored expression. "I k-know you're lying. I know when ANYBODY is l-l-lying." I snap my gaze back at him, mustering up an irritated expression while crossing my arms. His eyes widen as he stares at me, teeth beginning to chew on his lower lip. "I hear things Pip. D-don't—ACK—try to trick me. I k-know what you live off of. I-I've known you for years and h-how you act." The young man's words become quiet and my nails begin to dig into my arms at his words. Finding this piece of information…disturbing.

"Don't g-g-get weird on me," he continues, "I keep tabs on—ACK—everyone. N-never know whenever one of you is going to snap. I…I s-saw the newest game stations and the huge TV in your—ERK—living room. You can't afford that! Even that flimsy truck falls into the maybe category!"

Brown eyes narrow in on me, his voice becoming steady as he whispers, "You're hiding something."

I glare back at the young man, my confusion and fear slowly being replaced with a calm rage. Like poison heat spreads through my veins and I calmly reply, "And, if I am? What is it to you?"

Tweek's eyes widen only momentarily at the confession before his expression once again turns back to its previous look. His hands withering and clasping together in uncontained spurts of energy. The thoughtful look returns on his face and brown eyes slowly roam over my form, causing me to shiver. The feeling like being analyzed under a microscope, laid bare before this young man.

"Am I in d-d-danger if…whatever you're hiding stays a secret?" he quietly asks. I shake my head and the other male visibly relaxes, his shoulders going slump as that sharp look leaves his expression. "It's not drugs or some illegal trafficking is it?"

Again I shake my head and the teen becomes even more relaxed, a small smile now forming on his face. "Then…I-I'm fine with y-you—ERK—keeping a s-s-secret," Tweek states with a low sigh, "But, if I EVER c-catch wind of sometime bad and it's y-your fault—"

I huff. "Oh for Gods sake, it's nothing illegal nor…deadly. It's just…private."

The young man is quiet for a moment, as if weighing my words against his thoughts. Finally he nods, accepting my words as truth. A loud click meets my ears and the passenger door opens to reveal Butters, a pile of drinks carried a little unbalanced at his side; a packet of pain reliever in his hand.

"Whoa," he says, the smile on his face turning into a confused frown, "What's with the tension here?"

"It's nothing lad," I say with a sigh, "Tweek and I merely had a disagreement about owning a cat. We both took each others words a little personally." The small on the blond's face returns and he quickly sits down in the seat, passing us our drinks and me my medicine.

"That's not good, fellas. We're all buddies here! It's not good to fight."

Tweek snorts and twists the cap on his soda, making the bottle hiss. "Friends f-fight all the t-time. Keeps ya f-from doin'—ACK—stupid shit! S-s-suppose to anyway…"

Butters smile falters and he turns towards me. "It's still not good to fight though, right Pip?"

I shrug. "Unfortunately, sometimes that's the only way to get something through to someone." After uncapping my water I throw the pain reliever in the back of my throat and drown it. Not daring to look back up to see the look on the young man's face.

The ride back to my place is quiet and as Butters pulls into my driveway I let out a sigh of relief, glad to see that the house is still standing. "Are ya sure ya don't want to hang out a little longer Pip?" Butters asks, "Is the medicine not workin'?"

"The medicine is working fine, I'm just tired," I reply, opening the car door, "I'm not really use to even being out this late."

"Awww, it's only eleven, Pip," he replies with a chuckle, "But, I understand. Do ya have a way of us to contact ya for next time?" I snap my gaze back at the two blonds, both looking at me expectantly. Next time? They want a next time?

"Oh, um, I don't…have a phone. Sorry lads. But, I'm not against you two coming over at reasonable times if you want to."

Butters beams. "That sounds swell! Well, goodnight Pip. I hope that Kenny didn't cause too much of a mess in there for ya."

"If he did then he's staying late to clean it up," I good-naturedly state, "But I'm sure the worst I have to worry about is used plates. Good evening, Butters, Tweek. It's been a pleasure." Tipping my hat to them I briskly walk over to my front door, avoiding the melted ice puddles in my grass as I pull out my house key.

"Pip!" Tweek shouts, making me jump and nearly lose my key. I turn back to him with a start and grow confused at the unreadable expression on his face. "I'm, uh… s-s-sorry about fighting with you."

I give him and nod my head, accepting his apology. With a rumble Tweek's car starts to pull out the driveway and I unlock the front door, quickly walking in and shutting it behind me. It's then that I notice a heavy scent in the air. It's thick but oddly pleasant, and I'm immediately on guard. However, it's not until I recognize the unmistakable density of smoke that my heart begins to race. I hastily look around for a fire but instead find the source to be from a small wrapped up joint. Sitting right between Kenny's forefinger and thumb.

Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms over my chest, irritation quickly escalating into anger as I watch the blond sit on my couch watching Tom and Jerry without a care in the world.

"What do you think you're bloody doing!" I exclaim, causing the young man to jump from his spot on the couch. Bloodshot eyes glance back at me nervously for a few seconds before becoming hooded. A wide sloppy smile forms on his face and with a nod he brings the joint up to his lips; slowly exhaling the smoke in my direction.

"Hiya Pippers~" he sings, half-heartedly waving at me, "How was the movie?"

"Bloody brilliant," I grimace, marching over to the young man, "Now what are you doing with a joint in my house?" Kenny covers his ears as my tone rises in anger, a sullen look overcoming his once happy features.

"Aw man, you're so angry," he drawls, "Angry Pip is a scary Pip." The smile returns to his face and he holds out the joint in his hand out to me. "Wanna puff?"

I snatch the joint from his hand and walk over to the sink, snuffing out the lit end with a washcloth before pocketing the thing. Turning my gaze back to the young man on the couch, I see his expression shifting through confusion and lost slowly. His mind now just comprehending that the joint is no longer in his hand.

"Kenny," I snap, calling his attention to me, "Where is Damien?"

The blond gets another wide smile on his face, shrugging his shoulders. "Talking to the moon. Maybe…I think."

With a low sigh, I run a hand down my face, rubbing my eyes in frustration. Pointing at the high young man I hiss, "Stay here and watch the your show."

He gives me a thumbs-up and muttering under my breath I walk outside into the backyard, slamming the door behind me. Red shines in the edge of the sky, the dark black hue of night consuming the sky above and allowing the stars and moon to shine their light. Squinting my eyes, I walk to the edge of the back porch and scan the small backyard; a sigh of relief leaving me when I see a figure sitting in the back corner of the yard. Though the features are hidden in the shadows there's little doubt in my mind that it's anyone but the devil-child.

"You prick!" I shout, making my way over, "What in God's name are you and Kenny thinking bringing mari…that sort of thing into MY house!" The figure doesn't reply as I trudge towards him, not even stirring when I stand before him—absolutely livid at the lack or response. "I cannot believe you!" I continue, crouching down to where the figure sits, "One night, I'm out for one bloody night and you go and do this?"

Red eyes suddenly glance up at me and I jump back, startled at the sight. The darkness that surrounds him making the glowing orbs pop out disturbingly. The ends of his eyes crinkle in mirth at my reaction, a deep rumble echoing in his throat.

"Yes, very funny. Let's all scare Pip," I mock, my irritation growing, "Now, get your butt inside. I did not go out tonight just to come home and babysit two almost fully grown men." The shadowed young man doesn't move but suddenly I feel fingers in my hair, the small appendages brushing through the blond strands and pulling at the knots.

"…Your hair is darker," Damien comments, awe in his voice.

I press my lips into a thin line at the comment, unsure whether to become madder or just be amused as his fingers continue to stroke my long locks. "Yes, that tends to happen whenever there is no light Damien," I reply, pulling one of his hands away, "Come on now. Let's go in—"

"Nooo," he whines, "Like, it's DARKER. Browner… It's not shiny anymore. The dark can't change that. Even the sun shows it's darker."

Oh. He means my hair is becoming darker, I conclude, a small smile forming on my lips. "Well, that's bound to happen given my genetics," I explain, allowing his hand back into my hair, "My sister had blonde hair whenever she was little, and from the pictures of my parents so did they."

His hands pause and the once gentle fingers tighten to an almost painful hold. As I open my mouth to tell the young man to let go, his hands fall away and I feel him pat the top of my head. "S'ok," he says, "Your hair is still pretty."

My face grows warm at the strange compliment but before I can react those fingers are back in my hair and I'm pulled forward to feel warm lips pressed against mine.

A/N: Alright, this is all I have for you guys for now. Sorry, but we're having to go back to irregular updates now. It's a bummer but if I'm totally honest with you guys between work and the holidays I've used up all my "Ready" chapters. I haven't even finished writing chapter 15 yet.

But, as always, I hope you guys have enjoyed this chapter.

Thanks for reading and tell me what you think by leaving a review! :D

I hope you've all had a very merry holiday!