Hey, thanks for all your reviews!

Guest: Oh, I know what he looked like, but this is a modern fanfic, so I'm going with the characters as people of colour, like in the musical. I know he looked like that in real life, if you look at my other historical fic, you'll see his appearance there is constant with that of the real man. I mean, I think you'll be hard pressed to find a full blood Puerto Rican with red hair and blue eyes.

Guest: Haha, just you wait. It only gets... worse.

Guest: (: Thanks

Anyway, trigger warnings: hospitals, injections/ taking blood, brief mention of suicide, psychiatry, brief mention of abuse.

Lafayette had never been a tactful sort of person. His blunt words and unintentionally offensive observations often got him into trouble and he didn't like to sugar coat things. It wasn't in his nature to be flowery and economic with the truth, his rather literal grasp of the English language only served to exemplify this. None of these things did him any favours currently, not with the Eliza situation, nor with the Alex one, both requiring at least a slight degree of caution.

He didn't know how he was going to bring any of this up to Alex when they next saw each other, later in the day. He didn't know how Eliza would react to the truth, if Alex decided he wanted her to know, and he didn't know what he would do if Alexander chose the opposing option.

He was in his room, sprawled out across his bed, shirtless and freshly showered. His phone played music loudly, his window was open. It was mid-morning, the final birds — the ones that hadn't deserted the state for the south in the steadily colder weather — chirped.

Martha and George were in the lounge downstairs, evidently talking about something not meant for his ears. He'd gone down earlier, sat with them to watch some TV, but they'd been acting strange, looking at each other from across the room with that knowing expression adults always took on in front of teenagers when they were hiding something. He'd left eventually, under the guise of homework

He'd not done much yesterday evening after coming back from visiting Alexander. Read a little, texted John. He'd told him about what their conversation had been about the other day. When he and Alex had spoken in Spanish at the hospital. So cariño meant baby. Sweet.

As he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, he heard slight movement in the hallway outside his bedroom and felt something small weigh down on his bed next to him. There was the soft rub of fur against his leg and he smiled, reaching out and lifting the cat up by his stomach and pulling him towards him.

"Salut, Lex."

He'd come to call the kitten Lex, merely because it often felt a little strange to call Alex's name and having a tiny little cat come running. It was disconcerting, hearing himself say the teenager's name but knowing he wasn't there. Besides, Lex was a better name for a cat.

Lex rubbed his head affectionately against Lafayette's chin and purred, stepping lightly on the teenager's chest and sniffing at his hair. Lafayette had washed it that morning, the cat had probably never smelt coconut shampoo.

"Tu aimes mes cheveux?"

You like my hair?

The cat reached out his tiny paw and pushed it into Lafayette's afro, as though testing the feel of it. Evidently, he liked it, because a moment later he'd lifted his second paw to bat at a curl lying across Lafayette's forehead. Lafayette laughed and tickled the cat behind his ears.

"Aww, minou-minou."

kitty-kitty

Then, Lex's paw got stuck. His claw had somehow become tangled in one of Lafayette's curls and he was frantically trying to pull it away, tugging sharply at Lafayette's hair.

"Ow!"

The cat tugged harder and miaowed angrily, leaning in to bite Lafayette's wrist where he'd reached up to untangle his hair.

"Merde! Arrête!"

Shit, stop!

The cat finally got away, taking, Lafayette thought, a few strands of his own hair with him. He sighed and rubbed the cat along his back, thought of Alex again.

"I hope Alex likes you..."

The cat miaowed and hopped lightly off his bed, Lafayette heard his footsteps pad softly away down the corridor and then, he was alone again.

"It's not too soon? I don't know George..."

Martha frowned as she stirred her tea, watching the milk turn it a warm beige colour and steam rise form its surface. George was sat beside her, both of them still in pyjamas, drinking his own mug of coffee.

"It's only been a few months, but his circumstance is totally different to Gilbert's."

Martha had to agree, she shrugged and pulled at the sleeves of her jumper. She just wasn't so sure about making such a big decision so soon, even if she knew logically it would work out best for everyone.

"Gilbert had lost his parents so recently, that's why we waited. With Alexander, well, he's nearly sixteen now. There's no point in leaving it any longer."

"I want to do this, I just don't know if he will."

George's arm found her shoulders and she leaned against him, watching the silver morning light filter softly through the steam from her mug of tea.

"I think he will. He's got Laf here, Hercules, John."

George put slight emphasis on that last name and Martha laughed quietly, picked up some toast from her plate and chewed thoughtfully.

"Mmhhm, I think so too. We should let him think about it though, before we call Mr. Knox again."

George's hand rubbed circles into her shoulder and she felt him nod, his stubble was prickly against her cheek.

"Of course, we'll wait until he's out of hospital. But I think this is the right move, I think he'll be happy here."

Martha pressed a quick kiss to his jaw and finished the last of her toast, dusting a few crumbs off her lap.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Alex didn't wince as Marian took blood, nor did he flinch when she removed the drip from the vein in his forearm. He was far too glad to have it out to feel any pain regarding the damned thing. The canula he'd become used to in his last few days of consciousness too was gone. It felt good to be able to move freely, breathe on his own. Now all that was left to do was to shower and wear his own clothes, then he'd feel like Alexander again.

Only, he had to wait until Lafayette visited later in the day and brought some clothes with him. He could shower first though, finally, after days of lying in bed he could stand, walk to a bathroom, wash his hair. Feel more human. He wanted the shower to be cold, though. It'd feel like it was summer again on Nevis, when the water ran cool at best because of the heat. He remembered their shower, old-fashioned, light blue tiles. Taps with little star handles, an age-spotted mirror, best buy shampoo.

Marian smiled apologetically as she withdrew the needle from where she'd been taking blood. Alex returned it, drumming his fingers lightly against the metal bar around his bed. He was sat up, legs crossed beneath him, rolling his neck. He had knots in his back from how tense he'd been in the last few days, that and his rather sedentary state recently.

"Feels good to be able to move a bit."

Marian sealed the needle into a small plastic bag and grinned at him, preparing to pick up his breakfast tray. He'd eaten pretty well that morning, which he thought he could at least partially attribute to Marian's watchful eye and a fair portion of guilt on his part. Marian lifted his tray and stood by his bed, watching him silently for a moment.

"Hey, I talked to Dr. Hosack last night."

Alex paused where he was rolling the joints of his shoulders and clenched his jaw, avoiding eye-contact.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. He's asked one of the ward's psychiatrists Dr. Warren to come around sometime today or tomorrow."

Dr. Warren. Dr. Samantha Warren, Alex knew her. She was the dark haired one, the one he'd seen within days of arriving in Virginia, after he'd had that brief fainting spell. He remembered her being nice, in a stern sort of way. She'd seemed like a rarity for most doctors, she hadn't patronised him just because he was a teenager.

"I know her. Saw her in the summer."

Marian smiled, looked relieved.

"That's good. She's a nice woman, nothing to worry about."

Alex pulled his arm up high and stretched the muscles of his upper back, wincing slightly.

"Not worried," he lied, maintaining an unconcerned expression.

"Of course not."

Alexander dropped his arm and watched the view out the window for a few moments. It was over the few streets surrounding the hospital. A gas station in the distance, some office blocks to the west and a park in the distant east.

"So, about that shower?" He asked hopefully, turning to look back at Marian with a small smile.

"Let me get rid of these."

She nodded down at the things held in her arms and left the room, footsteps echoing down the quiet corridor. This ward wasn't usually noisy. He remembered hearing yelling once at night, maybe three days ago. It had been a girl's voice, woken him up. He supposed it was a psych ward, and he'd yelled out one night too. That sort of stuff was standard.

He showered about ten minutes later in a bathroom a few doors down from his room. It was pleasantly cool, refreshing, with soap that smelled like honeycomb. It would be nice to kiss John again when he smelt a little better, when his hair was less lanky and flat, when he had softer skin.

Lafayette came around at about quarter to twelve, bringing Martha and George with him. The latter two of the trio had gone to speak with Dr. Hosack for a little while, so Alex was left with Gilbert.

"How you doing?"

Alex shrugged and smiled, tugging at a strand of damp hair.

"Got all those drips out, showered. I feel better."

Lafayette nodded and crossed his legs on his chair. It felt a little less awkward this time, because Alex was sat up properly. Hair washed, canula gone, he looked better.

"How's John? Is he coming today?"

Lafayette grinned and pulled at one of the buttons on his shirt. It was honestly heartwarming to watch how his two friends asked after each other, if not a little sad. They were so lucky to have each other, reminded him of someone he'd been pining after for a while. Made him a little envious, in the least malicious way possible.

"I think so, yeah. He mentioned he wanted to."

Alex smiled and pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie. Lafayette had, per his request, brought him some clothes. Jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie. It made all the difference.

"Anyway, there was something I needed to mention to you..."

Alex looked up from his hoodie sleeves and raised his eyebrows in a sort of 'oh?' expression. Lafayette gulped.

"Yeah?"

"It's just that," he shrugged and pushed some hair from his face awkwardly, "well, you know Eliza Schuyler?"

"Yeah, course I do."

"She's been asking us about where you've been. Somehow, she's figured out quite a lot. That you're in hospital, that we're off school because of visiting you, that it has something to do with you collapsing in math class the other week."

He let all this out in a rush, words tripping and scrambling over each other in their haste to leave his mouth. He twisted the button on his cuff as he spoke, holding his breath as soon as he'd finished speaking and not looking up at Alex.

"Should have known."

His voice, contrary to the surprised, fearful tone Lafayette had expected, was wry, humoured even.

"Huh?"

Lafayette was a little taken aback when he looked up to see a smile on Alexander's face. It wasn't a particularly strong one, it was a little resigned, but it was there nonetheless.

"Just that, of course Eliza's been up to some Nancy Drew shit. I mean, I'll talk to her, tell her what happened, it's just so her."

Lafayette laughed in surprise and nodded, his ponytail bobbed up and down and his teeth gleamed.

"You're right, it's very like her. She asked me to call her to tell her what was happening, but would you rather something different?"

Alex sucked on his lip for a moment, as though thinking. He shuffled in his position on the bed and pulled the blankets over his knees more wholly.

"Well, she can always come see me. Now that I don't look so pathetic, I probably won't scare her away."

Lafayette frowned at the statement and pushed his shoulder gently, "you were never pathetic. But I think her seeing you might be good."

Alex nodded and leant back on his hands, his back facing the window.

"I thought that would be a lot harder than it was."

Alex shrugged at Lafayette's words, his narrow shoulders were drowned a little in fabric, but his posture seemed relaxed at least.

"I don't know, if she cared enough to ask around about me, I can probably trust her. Anyway, you guys trust her, and I trust you."

He went slightly pink at the end of this sentence and Lafayette smiled. He knew Alex trusted him, John and Herc too, but it was nice to hear him say it. Especially when he knew Alex didn't give out trust easily. He held eye contact with Alex for only a moment, didn't want to embarrass him. The shorter teen rolled his eyes and went back to fiddling with the string on his hoodie.

"I said I'd call her today. Shall I tell her to drop by sometime?"

Alex nodded and thumbed through a book from his bedside table, one he'd already finished.

"Next time you're in, can you bring some more stuff for me to read?"

Lafayette grinned and nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Sure. I go back to school on Monday, if you give me your library card I can get whatever you want."

Alex smiled, "It's in my school bag. I'm partial to Kafka, if you get the chance."

Martha and George came in a quarter of an hour later, both with similar expressions of disguised dismay and exhaustion. Alexander immediately knew why. He couldn't attempt to drink a bottle of iodine and expect no repercussions, of course the Washingtons would be told. Lafayette was shrewd, good at reading people. He evidently noticed this, though said nothing. Probably more for Alex's sake than his parents'.

They stayed an hour or so longer, talking about inutile sorts of things. Alexander asked George about the latest on the senate campaign, because despite his reticence concerning conversation with the man and the vague awkwardness between them, he couldn't help but be curious about that sort of thing. They stayed while he ate lunch, greeted Marian and left at around one.

Later that day, Marian comes around with news he knew logically was inevitable but had dreaded nonetheless. Dr. Warren had arranged to see him at three. He knew this was standard procedure after an attempt, he'd seen a hospital psychiatrist once before, hadn't enjoyed it very much. He'd been sanctimonious, acted like he knew Alex better than he did himself.

When the time rolled around, after a solid hour of bitten fingernails and sudden bursts of sharp-breathed anxiety, there was a knock on his door. He didn't really know what to say, Marian never knocked. He sat up against the wall behind his bed and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Yeah?"

Warren walked in, exactly as he remembered her. Dark hair, late thirties, stern face and kind eyes.

"Afternoon."

He nodded in response, shifting backwards as she took a seat in the chair Lafayette vacated an hour ago.

"We've met before, I recognised your name when Dr. Hosack emailed me."

She smiled slightly, it wasn't like Martha's, wide and warm, or like John's, secretive, like an inside joke. It was understanding, almost.

"Yeah...I saw you in the summer."

Warren smiled again and Alexander subconsciously drew his knees up to his chest, eyeing her clipboard. He'd never liked talking to psychiatrists, from the limited experience he had with them. He didn't hold anything against people who went to them, he just didn't know how people trusted strangers with details they wouldn't even tell their family.

"I remember. So, what's changed since then?"

Alex shrugged, looked her right in the eyes. If he had to do this, he wasn't going to be one of those people that beat around the bush.

"Well, a few days ago I took a load of pills. I'd say that's pretty important."

Dr. Warren nodded, wrote something down on the clipboard in front of her. Alex instantly wanted to know what it was, craned his neck forwards to try to read her writing.

"What are you writing?"

Warren looked up and smiled again, evidently a little amused.

"That you're forthright about what happened."

He frowned and shrugged, sitting back against the wall and playing with the string of his hoodie. This woman meant little to him, he had no reason to be shy about telling her about his attempt. He couldn't disappoint her. Ah. That might be why people talk to psychiatrists rather than family.

"Yeah. Sometimes."

She raised an eyebrow, "sometimes?"

Alex narrowed his eyes. This wasn't going exactly how he'd expected. Not bad, rather different. He'd not thought he'd be asked questions, rather assumed he'd be talked to, told what was wrong with him and ordered to take a certain type of pill.

"Yeah... I don't talk about it to Laf."

Warren sat back a little on her chair and crossed her legs.

"'Laf' is..."

"My foster brother."

She inclined her head, jot down the detail on her clipboard.

"Why don't you talk to him about it?"

He sighed, pushed some hair behind his ear. Now came the whole 'feelings' part of it. Psychiatrists were always asking 'why?', 'why?', why?'.

"Well, obviously, it's not a very easy subject is it?"

Warren shrugged and watched him for a few moments, as though she was waiting for him to say something else. He didn't.

"Do you talk to anyone about it?"

Alex picked at a last piece of skin around his nail, he'd bitten the rest off.

"Well, it's not been very long, has it."

"What about before, if you needed to talk to someone, did you?"

Alex watched a tiny pinprick of blood appear where he'd pulled at the skin.

"Not really."

"Not really?"

Alex wanted to groan. Did she have to pick apart every word he said? Did he need to reiterate?

"No, then."

Dr. Warren smiled and he replaced his leg beneath him slightly, a little uncomfortable. How long would she be here?

"So what did you do instead of talking to someone?"

Alex thought this was pretty obvious, if she'd read his file. If she so much as looked around a little.

"I try to cope and if I can't, well. I'm here. That should speak for itself."

Dr. Warren tipped her head to the side slightly, "how do you try to cope?"

He noticed then that he'd been tapping his foot against the side of his bed, incessantly. He stopped.

"I don't know. I just get on with things."

"So you block everything out?"

"You could say that."

"And what would you say?"

Alex nearly laughed. He quickly settled into a small smile and shrugged. He almost liked her.

"I'd say that it doesn't really work, which is why I'm here."

Warren jotted another sentence or two down on her clipboard and used her ankle to tug her chair a little closer to Alex.

"So, about here. How do you find it?"

Alex wrinkled his brow. 'How does he find it?'. Was he supposed to have any other opinion of this place than hating it?

"I'm having the time of my life."

Dr. Warren smiled slightly and watched him for another moment or two, again, as though she was waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn't, she continued.

"I didn't expect you to say you liked it, I mean, how do you feel here? What about it don't you like?"

He shrugged, the little plastic end of his hoodie string had split.

"I don't like being treated like I'm delicate and I don't like not being able to do my own thing."

He was almost surprised at how much he was telling her. It was pretty obvious stuff, but he'd never thought he'd be anything but rude to a therapist. He didn't know what he'd expected. Not quite this, that was certain.

"I understand that, but you do know you're quite ill?"

He shrugged and nodded, slightly defeated.

"I guess, but I don't need people's pity or whatever."

Warren wrote this down on her clipboard, Alex wondered what she was going to do with it all.

"What do you do with all that?"

Warren set her pen back beneath the silver clip.

"Just for reference, no one sees it but me. All this is private."

Alex nodded almost infinitesimally and surveyed the woman, waiting for whatever she had next to say. He wasn't exactly vying for monopoly in this conversation.

"Who visits you while you're here?"

Alex watches the shadow of a person pass the door, unrecognisable through the frosted pane.

"Martha and George, they're my foster parents and Lafayette, John and Hercules; friends."

He wasn't going to get into whatever was going on between himself and John. He wasn't sure whether he'd call them boyfriends, but there was certainly a mutual liking and understanding between them.

"Every day?"

He nodded and crossed his legs beneath him. He was glad to be back in his own clothes.

"Do you like your foster parents?"

Alex wondered if she thought he'd say no. Even if he did dislike George and Martha, he wouldn't say it.

"Yeah. They're great."

"And other foster parents, before now?"

Alex grimaced slightly and shrugged again. One of these days, his shoulders would stick in that position.

"It varied. Some were nice, some weren't."

Warren wrote this down and looked back up at him, pushed some hair behind her ear.

"Have you been in many?"

"Yeah, this is my tenth or eleventh."

"Tenth or eleventh?"

"I'm not exactly sure... I was in a boys' home for a little while. It's not technically a foster placement, but it also sort of counts."

Dr. Warren nodded and Alexander shrugged slightly awkwardly.

"Do you think this one is more permanent than the others?"

Alex had been thinking about this almost constantly for the past three days. Now that everything that had happened had sort of settled in, he wasn't sure whether the Washingtons would want to have him stay any longer. There was a chance he'd be moved on, he thought.

"It's indefinite. It always is."

Warren frowned and twisted the cap of her pen absently.

"Has there not been a foster parent you've wanted to stay with?"

"Yeah, there was Katherine. Six months, would have been permanent but she got sick."

Warren nodded sympathetically, it wasn't exactly as though she understood. She probably didn't, but she at least wasn't pretending she could.

"I'm sorry that happened. What was she like?"

"Nice, clever. I liked being there, I was happy."

She wrote this down, jiggling her foot in no discernible pattern.

"And after Katherine?"

Alex's heart skipped a beat and inside him, his stomach felt like it was floating. The Elliots, they had come after Katherine. The one placement he'd have traded for Pace or Johnson in a heartbeat.

"The Elliots."

She leant backwards in her chair marginally, balancing on the back two legs, a thoughtful expression coloured her features.

"What were they like?"

Nausea twisted inside him. Like something, a disease, was growing and spreading in him, like it was taking over everything else he was. He tried not to think about it, he didn't want to think about—

Streetlight shining through a gap in the curtains, hand heavy on his thigh, prickle of goosebumps, "please, stop."

"Fine. They were really different to me, so..."

"In what way?"

He rolled his eyes, biting down on his lip in a combination of annoyance and anxiety, the same anxiety that bubbled inside him when he thought of the Elliots.

"They were rich, white Republicans. I didn't really like them."

Warren watched him for a moment, her gaze wasn't knowing, but she at least could tell his reticence towards the subject. His lack of eagerness to discuss what might have been one of his worst foster homes. They continued that way for another fifteen minutes or so, questions, back and forth. Alexander's answers were never full sentences, nor were they particularly detailed.

He might have found it easier to talk to someone who couldn't judge or be disappointed in him, but that didn't mean he was just going to spill out his life story to this woman. Not when there was so much he could barely face himself, let alone articulate to another person.

She left with promises to return, some other day that week. Alexander was left alone then, with his thoughts. He thought he liked Warren, in a sort of grudgingly respectful manner. How much he thought he'd ever be able to tell her, though, he wasn't sure. It wouldn't ever be very much, that he was sure of. Some things he'd much rather forget than dredging them all back up again.

Alex sat up a little straighter when the door opened about an hour later, expecting for a moment to see Marian or some other nurse in the doorway. It wasn't either, however. It was John.

Something warm bloomed inside his stomach, heating him up from the inside. The same kind of warmth unlikely sunlight gave to your face on a cold day.

"Hey."

John grinned, closed the door behind him and watched Alex here he sat on his bed. He wore a large sweater, some comfortable looking jeans and a pair of Adidas sneakers. As usual, freckles scattered the skin of his face. Less prominent than they might be in the summer, but still visible from where he stood by the door. He walked over, flopped down beside him and stretched languidly, as though he owned the place. Surprisingly, this didn't bother Alexander. It was... God dammit, it was cute.

"You're in your own clothes."

John trailed his eyes up Alex, from his odd socks to his freshly washed hair, smiling.

"Nice observation, Sherlock."

John rolled his eyes, opened his mouth to retort, and Alex seized the opportunity. He leant in, twisted his body to face the teenager and pressed his lips to John's. John grinned into the kiss and reached a hand to cup Alex's face, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. John's tongue slipped against Alex's and the latter laughed slightly, pressing his body more closely up against the taller boy's.

They were alone, they finally had only each other. No nurses, no concerned family members. Just each other.

He felt teeth sink lightly into his lower lip and his forehead bumped with John's as they both leant nearer.

"You smell nice," murmured John, between kisses.

"Courtesy of CVS brand shower gel," whispered Alex, laughing and missing John's mouth so that his kiss fell on the side of his face.

"Missed me, missed me. Now you gotta kiss me," John's voice was sly, the kind of choked a person's voice goes when they're trying to keep a straight face. His eyes were like amber again.

Alex punched John lightly on the shoulder, laughed and kissed him one last time, softly, before resting his head against his chest and closing his eyes.

"You came alone, then?"

John nodded and twirled a strand of Alex's hair between his fingers, smiling.

"Herc had a family thing. Maybe Hugh was going back to college? Can't remember."

"Laf talk to Eliza?"

John shrugged, shifting his position so he was leant against the wall, not so uncomfortable with Alex resting on him.

"Not sure. Probably. He told you about all that then?"

Alex nodded into John's sweater. It smelt a little like Hercules, his own people smell John had probably picked up while living at his place, but mostly just like John. The deodorant he wore, the shampoo he used, the strong, chemical smell of oil paint solvent.

"You gonna see Eliza then?"

"Yeah, I guess she can know. What do you think?"

John hummed in agreement and tapped his foot against the floor to a song he'd had stuck in his head all day.

"I think... Well, Eliza's one of the best people you'll ever meet. You've got nothing to worry about, not with her."

Alex smiled, let his leg cross over John's.

"I know. I just... I would have liked to know her a bit better. Still..."

John kissed the top of his head gently and Alex laughed, feeling John's hand reach up to stroke him there.

"I'm not a cat, John."

"Tell that to Laf."

Alex stopped mid-grin, his eyebrows creased and he tilted his head in confusion, looking up at John.

"Huh?"

John frowned, played with some of Alex's hair, watching the strands turn caramel in the sunlight.

"The cat, you know, Lex. Wait, you know about the cat, right?"

Alex lifted his head off of the other boy's head to watch John more easily.

"No..."

John shrugged and leant back against the wall, playing with the end of his sweater. Light spots danced across the wall as light bounced off the face of his wristwatch.

"They started feeding this stray cat, thought they'd name it. They chose Alex, shortened it to Lex."

Alex's eyes widened and he sat up a little straighter, a little incredulous. A cat? A feral cat? Named for him?

"Why? Wha— A cat?"

John laughed and shrugged, the reflection off his watch danced a little with his movement on the far wall.

"I don't know, it's a cute cat. Dark brown, small."

Alex sat back against the wall, thinking. Mr. Elliot sprung to mind, unwelcome, uninvited. There was a little phrase he used to throw around.

"Foster father of mine used to say something about cats, about me. 'Can't teach an alley cat to be a pedigree.'"

John frowned, twisted to face Alex more fully.

"That's horrible."

Alex shrugged, indifferent. He watched as the light from John's watch bounced of the glass in the door and hit the side of his face, silver.

"Well, I don't like it much either, but it's sort of true. In regards to me at least. Once a foster kid, always a foster kid. You know?"

John raised an eyebrow, "I mean... I... I'd say there's more to you than just 'foster kid'."

"Yeah, there is, but not to him."

"What foster home was he?"

Alex held his breath for a moment, trying to mask his discomfort with a pensive sort of expression.

"Uh, like the seventh."

John nodded and kicked off his shoes so he could sit properly on Alex's bed.

"Make yourself at home, why don't you," Alex was glad for the change of subject, scooted across the bed, closer to John, their shoulders touching.

"Not hard with you."

It sort of just came out, John hadn't really thought too hard about what he'd been about to say. He didn't normally with Alex, he normally just said whatever came into his mind. Didn't have to keep up any facade, not like he did with his dad, or everyone else excepting Lafayette and Hercules.

He realised what he'd said, looked at his hands in his lap and let out a small breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

Then, he felt lips on his cheek and the light brush of eyelashes against his own.

"It isn't for me either."