I'll admit I did expect some more comments here or on AO3 for last chapter. Slightly disappointed.

7 hours

Desmond woke to someone poking him. He blinked awake sleepily and saw Altair looking at him. "Mm?" he asked dumbly.

"Let go," Altair said. Desmond was then aware of what he was doing. He was cuddling Altair's arm, rather tightly. He made a noise that must have been an apology because he let go and Altair got up.

"Need to get up, huh?" Desmond groaned and pressed his hand to his eyes.

"Want a shower?" Altair asked, sounding way more awake than Desmond was.

"… I get one this time?" he asked, lifting his head off the pillow a bit to look at Altair.

"Gramps isn't here," Altair shrugged.

"Yeah," Desmond thumped back onto Altair's bed.

"You can use it after me."

"Can I just take it with you?" his dumb, sleep addled, mind asked and his mouth didn't have a proper filter to his brain yet.
Altair blinked at Desmond and then shrugged again, "If you want," and then he walked towards the bathroom, clearly not intending to wait for Desmond.
Desmond stared at the yellow ceiling wondering what the hell had just gotten into him before pushing himself up on his elbows as the water started in the bathroom. He made a face to himself. He… really wouldn't mind. Altair said he didn't care. After a moment of deliberating he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

He'd never been in here and it was small, but efficient. The hot water made the air a bit muggy as he closed the door. With only a slight hesitation he went to the shower and pulled back the curtain a bit, Altair was facing the spray, head down, letting the hot water splash over him. Desmond slid into the shower and put his hand gently on Altair's back to not startle him. Altair only twitched and then took the shower head out and handed it to Desmond. Bless hose heads.

The hot water felt really good, rinsing off the sweat and sex from last night. He was surprised when Altair suddenly touched his hair and realized he was… washing it. Oh this was freaking awesome. So not normal one-night-stand procedure but who the fuck cared? Desmond lowered the shower head and let Altair wash his hair before returning the favor. Altair had slightly shorter hair than Desmond, but he still managed to style it into a mohawk before Altair grabbed the shower head and washed the suds out. Desmond just grinned unashamedly at him.

They washed themselves separately and Altair got out first to let Desmond finish up. Desmond turned on some cooler water to give his back side a bit of not so rough attention and once he was done he stepped out of the shower, dried off and sat on the john. He sat there for a while, making faces to himself, waiting to see if something was going to move. He sat there a few minutes before getting up, putting a towel around his waist and checking himself in the mirror.

"ALTAIR!" he yelled at seeing his reflection. There was a huge hickey on his neck and chest. It started on the left side of his neck, up under his ear, covered the entire side of his neck, across some of his throat, down his collar bone and even on part of his chest. Good god what had happened to him! It looked like he'd been in some sort of weird fight, his neck discolored and tender.

The door opened enough for Altair to stick his head through, he was dressed, "Yeah?" he asked.

"Care to explain what the fuck you did to my neck?" Desmond demanded, pointing accusingly at the hickey.

"Never had a hickey?"

"This isn't a hickey this is a fucking bruise. How does someone even do this much skin damage?"

Altair shrugged, "You were liking it." Desmond groaned and ran his hand through his hair, glancing at himself in the mirror again. It was even worse when he looked a second time. "Want me to wash your clothes?" Altair asked out of no where.

"… What?"

"Want me to throw your clothes in the wash?" Altair asked again, raising his brows at him.

"Uh…"

"Or you can wear your dirty club clothes, makes no difference to me," Altair shrugged.

"Then what the hell will I wear?" Altair glanced down at the towel around his waist. "No," Desmond said warningly.

"I can give you something. Yes? No?"

Desmond thought about it. He was clean and didn't want to wear dirty clothes honestly. But if he said yes he'd be here another hour and a half at least waiting for his clothes to wash and dry. He looked at Altair who was just waiting for an answer but didn't seem concerned with the answer. "Yeah, sure, thanks," Desmond said.

"I'll lay something out for you to wear," and then Altair retreated, closing the door. Desmond looked back at the mirror and whined miserably. Just great. He had a giant hickey on his neck to clearly broadcast that he'd had a wild fucking weekend to the entire school. He was sort of sure that was the point. Good god how was he going to explain this to his father? He said he'd been at Clay's all night and he magically had a huge hickey on his neck. This was not going to end well. Well not like it'd be bad. His dad wouldn't flip out or anything, he'd just get a talking to about lying and probably safe sex or something. None of the things he wanted!

He sighed and gently rubbed his neck. It was awful and huge and for fuck's sake! There wasn't anything he could do about it other than wear a scarf or something. It wasn't cold enough for that yet though. It never really was. He couldn't wait for winter break when he'd be going up to South Dakota and would be wearing scarves and high necked shirts. Winter break was still two weeks away though.

Wasn't much he could do about now though. He left the bathroom. The bed had been made, with no sign that he and Altair had occupied it, and there were sweat pants and a shirt laid out on it. Altair was nowhere to be seen. Desmond undid his towel and pulled on the shirt and pants. They smelled like Altair's laundry detergent, clean and mild. He couldn't help but think this was the second time he was wearing Altair's clothes after sleeping with him. He both did and didn't hope this was a theme. At least this time it was on purpose and he hadn't, in a hungover, slightly terrified, daze, had grabbed the first shirt off the floor and thrown it on. The shirt too big on him, having been stretched out by Altair's wide shoulders, but the pants fit at least.

He left Altair's room. He was on the first floor, but there were stairs to a second and maybe even third floor. He'd never had the chance to appreciate Altair's house from the outside. The walls were pale coral and tastefully decorated, though it was like someone had paid to hang the things on the wall. He didn't bother trying to look in the other rooms, he just went down the hall to see if he could find Altair. As he got closer to the kitchen he saw that some of the pictures were personal. A young boy with his parents, smiling at the camera cheerfully. There were only a few, but they were all of, who he guessed was Altair with his mom and dad. He looked happy. Desmond wondered where they were, as he recalled Altair mentioning a 'gramps' but that was it.

The hall ended and he entered the kitchen. It was a huge, modern, thing with an island, and a bar that separated it from the dining room. The fridge door was open. "How long'll my clothes take?" Desmond asked the open fridge door.

Altair peered around it, having to lean back in order to see Desmond, "I put it on a short cycle, only like twenty minutes."

"Cool," Desmond tried really hard not to be awkward even though he was. He was standing in Altair's kitchen in Altair's clothes after they'd met at a club and had some really good sex. He didn't know how he wasn't supposed to be awkward about this.

He was about to say something to break the weird, brief, silence was but Altair beat him to it. "I'm making breakfast. Want some?"

Desmond blinked. Was this guy ever going to stop surprising him? He didn't know if his heart could handle it. "You cook?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes. Now do you want any or am I just cooking for me?" Altair rolled his eyes a bit.

"Uh, sure," Desmond said.

"Any allergies?"

"No," Desmond shook his head, "I kinda eat whatever's put in front of me."

Altair smirked, "Good to know. Go sit," he pointed at the bar where there were some stools. Desmond wandered over to it and sat as Altair continued to rummage through the fridge. Then he turned from it with a carton of eggs, one of those big, soft, Jimmy Dean, sausages, cream cheese, chives, green onions and a half gallon of milk all balanced in his arms as an unsteady tower. He set them all on the granite counter top next to the range, which was in the counter perpendicular to the bar. Altair opened some cupboards and pulled out salt and pepper, something that looked dastardly and red, a bowl, a small knife from the block in the corner of the counter and a whisk. It all went next to the food.

"So," Desmond said as Altair used the knife to cut open the Jimmy Dean, "didn't kick me out right away. Reason being?" he honestly was curious. Last time he'd literally been told to get the fuck out without so much as a 'good morning'. Now he was getting breakfast.

"My grandpa isn't home," Altair said, taking a frying pan off the hanger on the wall and putting it over some heat. "I don't bring guys home when he's home."

"What about your parents?"

"They wouldn't care."

Altair's tone was off, "Can I ask why?" he tested.

Altair looked at him, eyes hard, "No, you can't."

"Okay," well that was the end of that! No need to piss off the host after all. Altair made a few patties from the sausage with the red powder before tossing them into the frying pan where they started to sizzle immediately. "Thanks for making me breakfast," Desmond said. "My mom doesn't even make my breakfast," he joked.

"I always make breakfast," Altair shrugged.

"Even on school days?" Altair nodded, "I didn't know you cooked."

"Wanna make something of it?" Altair asked as he cracked an egg, one handed, into the bowl he'd gotten, not even looking at it, but at Desmond.

"Nope," Desmond said with a half there smile. Girls liked when guys cooked for them, Desmond knew that. Fuck that guys liked other guys cooked for them. Quickest way to a man's heart was through their stomach and Desmond was a living embodiment of such a stereotype. Cook him food or feed him and he'd do whatever you wanted, he wasn't too picky, he liked his grub! He almost said what he was thinking too, that it was hot, that Altair cooked. Though Altair breathed and it was hot so it wasn't like he had to find something attractive about Altair beyond his infuriatingly handsome face. "I think it's cool, I can't cook for shit. Unless cereal counts," and he made Altair chuckle as he finished cracking the rest of the eggs into the bowl.

"Maybe if you were six," Altair teased.

"Might as well be, my parents say so anyway," and Altair seemed amused by that. Good to know he could amuse Altair who even during tutoring was sarcastic at best, and a maddening flirt at worst. Desmond wasn't even sure if Altair was flirting with him during those times either. It was kinda like how Altair breathing was hot, anything that came out of his mouth sounded flirty. Hadn't Desmond thought last night that Altair could turn on the dark and sexy like no one's business? Cause he could. He shifted thinking about it. Yeah, don't think Altair's sex voice, bad idea. Such a bad idea. On a scale of one to bad idea that was a terrible idea.

Thinking about not thinking about it made Desmond think about it and he pressed his head to the counter embarrassed. At least he wasn't hard. That would be totally mortifying. He was just... getting flustered. Damn Altair.

"You okay?" Altair asked.

"Yeah," he sighed. There was a lot of sizzling going on and the sound of a pan flashing. Desmond looked up from his arms as Altair poured the eggs, now scrambled, into another frying pan. "Just thinking of a good excuse to tell my dad," because it was a much safer topic to think about then Altair's sex voice that was so rough and dark yet like velvet in his ears and what did he say about not thinking about it?!

"Your dad an asshole?" and Desmond knew what he meant.

"Not really," he admitted. "I just said I was at a friend's house, not at a club and I don't know how I'm going to explain this fucking thing," he motioned to the huge hickey on his neck. Altair grinned in fiendish delight. "Asshole," he added. Altair just hummed superiorly.

"You were liking it," Altair said smugly.

"Yeah well I don't always make the best decisions during sex," Desmond grumbled.

"Here," and suddenly a plate was put in front of him along with a fork, knife, and napkin. It was half of an omelet of a size he couldn't eat alone, and some sausage patties.

"Thanks," Desmond sat up and cut into the patties. He took a bite and wasn't expecting the heat. "Woah," he blinked in surprise a few times. Altair chuckled and put a cup of water in front of him. Desmond got out a thanks before taking a deep sip. It honestly wasn't that spicy, but the shock of it had made it seem more spicy than it was. Altair put his own plate down across from him just as an alarm went off a distance away. The laundry. Altair left and Desmond ate. When Altair came back he just leaned against the counter, not bothering to take a chair.

"S'good?" Altair asked him.

"Yeah," Desmond nodded, working on the omelet, which had the cream cheese and chives in it and a welcome respite from the hot meat. "Where'd you learn to cook?" he asked once he'd swallowed.

"My giddo, grandfather, owns restaurants all over the state. He taught me," Altair shrugged.

"That's cool. He own any here?" Altair bobbed his head, his mouth full of omelet. "He go to school for it?"

"Served as a cook in Vietnam and went to culinary school after," Altair half shrugged. Shrugged like it was no big deal.

"Wow. Seriously? That's so cool," Desmond wasn't even lying, that was awesome.

"I guess," Altair shrugged, "he's well known in the south. Some Food Channel shows have included them in show cases," he picked at his eggs, looking down, seeming disinterested in the topic. "He cooks really well, though now he mainly manages them now, too old to get behind the stone and flip pans. Did you even taste what I made?" Altair rose his brows at Desmond. Desmond had finished his food, pretty much inhaling it once he'd gotten over the hot sausage patties.

"I don't mess around with good food," was Desmond's only explanation. He leaned forward, "You going to go into the family biz?" he asked.

"Maybe," Altair shrugged, pushed his eggs around a bit before taking a bite. "I haven't decided," he looked at Desmond from under his brows. "You?"

"Me what?"

"What are you going to do."

"Go to MU and figure it out from there," he said proudly.

"Yeah? How you gonna get there? MU is one of the best schools in the state."

"I got the scores to get in. If MU doesn't work then UF or UCF," he shrugged.

"But you're into MU?"
"Hell yeah! And it's an excuse to come home every weekend, eat all my parent's food and do free laundry," Altair laughed down at his plate, Desmond grinned broadly. "Also it's too cold anywhere north of Okeechobee, I hate the cold."

"Same," Altair nodded and pushed more eggs into his mouth. Altair ate slow. Desmond kinda wanted to ask where Altair was going, but didn't. Wasn't really his business. Altair was just finishing his eggs when the dryer alarm went off.

"That was quick," Desmond said, surprised.

"I didn't put it on too long, it isn't like it was a lot to dry," and Altair beckoned him off the stool, no doubt so Desmond could change. "I'll get your clothes," Altair said and Desmond went into Altair's room. Altair went down to another door and opened it, going inside.

Desmond sat on Altair's bed and only then realized he didn't know where his wallet, phone, or keys were. Shit. He hopped back up an it took only a few moments of searching to locate his phone, plugged in, on one of the dressers, his wallet and keys next to it. He checked his phone, it was locked. He entered the swipe password and checked if he had messages. Just from Clay.

'You awake yet?' 'Need me to come get you?' 'Actually you're damn right I'm gonna come get you. You owe me three questions! You can do laundry and shower at my house.' 'Text me when you want me to come get you,' all in about the span of two minutes, literally as fast as Clay could type. He sent a quick text saying he could come and pick Desmond up. Somehow he knew Clay knew where Altair lived and didn't question it. It was just easier if he didn't.

The door opened, Altair came in, Desmond's clothes folded in his arms and set them on the bed. "Need me to call a cab?" Altair asked him.

"Nah, Clay's coming to get me, thanks," Altair nodded and gave Desmond some privacy. Yeah, right, privacy. Second time Altair had seen Desmond naked. No such thing as privacy now. Desmond took off Altair's clothes, looked around briefly before spotting a laundry basket and tossing them in before grabbing his own clothes and tugging them on. He was now glad he hadn't worn his Batman briefs last night and instead just the blue ones. Only problem was that his shirt barely covered his hickey and this was going to be a problem he just knew it. God damnit Altair.

He checked his phone once he pulled on his shirt, he had another message from Clay 'on my way!' Desmond chuckled and shook his head helplessly, he did indeed know how to pick friends it seemed. Desmond went and quickly checked outside the door, Altair wasn't around. He closed the door and stayed in the room. He had problems. He really, really, had problems. First the incident with the iPhone and now he was snooping around Altair's room. He just wanted to see what the other guy had in his room of interest. There was a TV but no game station, the computer was rather old and didn't look often used but he saw a space that clearly belonged to a laptop. He didn't have posters on his walls but instead wall scrolls of plants and Arabic calligraphy. There was one picture on the wall though, a family portrait. It was Altair, maybe three years old, sitting on his mother's knee, his father next to him and clearly his grandfather behind. His dad looked like him, but older. Desmond couldn't help but think damn Altair would grow up to be fine. Like he wasn't already hot as sin as it was.

There honestly wasn't much to snoop. Clearly Altair didn't spend a lot of time here, or if he did it was on his laptop, which wasn't here. So that was the end of that.

He left the bedroom after he located his shoes and jammed his feet into them. Altair was in the kitchen, finishing the clean up of breakfast. He looked when Desmond showed himself, "Thanks for washing my clothes," Desmond said.

Altair shrugged and looked back at his dishes, "Least I could do."

"My friend is coming to get me," he added and then his phone rang. He looked; text. 'Just turned off US1'.

"That him?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," and that was it. Less then five minutes later Clay called him for real and told him he was outside, at the end of the drive way, one he wouldn't go up since only serial killers or playboys had driveways like that. Altair at least walked him to the door. "Bye," Altair said, "I'll see you at school."

"Uhg, don't remind me," Desmond groaned, not even sarcastic. Don't remind him he had to sit in chemistry with this guy or tutor him and pretend he hadn't had Altair's dick in his mouth last night. He'd rather not have to deal with Altair ever again. But, life didn't work like that. At the very least he could make this as painless for himself as possible and just walked out, headed for Clay's car, and didn't look back.