Being the audacious lad that he was, Davy stepped into the Pad and strode right up to Mike, facing him head on, boldly and squarely. He'd been taking care of himself for a long time, had come across many seemingly unconquerable obstacles since he'd migrated to the States from England when he was only fourteen. His integral disposition had allowed him to be undaunted, and in the past he'd sometimes had to live on sheer guts. When Davy had told Micky he was afraid to go home, he'd been fibbing. Davy feared very little. In fact, he couldn't think of a solitary thing he was afraid of. Not even dying. He was more than leery of hurting Mike emotionally, but he wasn't concerned with his own well- being. Mike might be a bit of a challenge, but considering what he'd been through already in his life, Davy was undeniably sanguine and confident. An inborn trait, strengthened through necessity. Michael sensed the Brit's confidence and apparent pluckiness, and this irritated him all the further. A coward was one thing he knew David was not. But did he have to act so damn intrepid?

Mike decided to deliver the first blow, verbally, in an attempt to gain the upper hand.

"What the hell do you have to say for yourself? What the hell have you been doing?" Nice greeting. Mike was hitting him with all his artillery flying.

"She's our girl—mine and Peter's. Just who the fuck do you think you are? Who did you think you were fooling?"

Peter, who had been in the kitchen and unnoticed by Davy, slipped silently past them, up the stairs, into his bedroom as unobtrusively as he could. It would be rude to stand there and listen. Davy saw him out of the corner of his eye, but it hardly registered in his consciousness.

"Hold your horses, Mike. It was nothing like that. I was just joking around."

"Joking around? Are you shittin' me? Going after a girl who is in a serious relationship, with your best friends, kissing her, hugging her? And on three different occasions? Yeah, she told me about all about it. Where I come from, that sounds more like disrespect for your best friends who've been there for you, no matter what! Up your ass! I oughta beat the livin' shit outta you!"

The more he railed, the worse it got. Mike's face was flaming red, the veins in his neck throbbed, his jaw was clenched. All the signs Davy had seen in him when Mike was aiming to kill, or at least maim, someone. The last time Davy had seen Mike like this, it had taken all three of them to hold him off, and just barely, at that.

"Mike, I was playing around. Trying to startle her in the dark. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Bullshit you didn't! You get all the girls anyway, you have your pick of millions of them, but yet you just have to go after Leslie! Thanks a lot, you pompous asshole!"

Mike's voice was getting steadily louder by the second. Now his fists were balled up.

"Peter's cool with it. He understands. You obviously haven't tried to put yourself in my shoes. I did nothing wrong."

Mike was so flabbergasted that he couldn't find words. He sputtered, floundered, beyond exasperation that Davy didn't seem to be able to understand the magnitude of his wrong doing. But, even in his flustered state, Mike amazed himself by forging ahead with words instead of fists.

"Put myself in your shoes? And lay a finger on a girl you were serious about? You really think I'd do that?"

"I said, Mike, that I was only playing."

"The flirting, winking, all that was leading up to what you ended up doing—trying to seduce Leslie. Do you get your rocks off on that or something? Look, I may not be upset with Leslie, after we talked, but you are another story! You are a piece of work!"

"I'm glad you're not upset with Leslie. It was my fault, you're right. I take full blame. But it was just light-hearted fun, and that's how I intended it to be… interpreted… by her."

Michael place his hands firmly on his hips. "How do you expect me to believe you?"

For once, Davy didn't have a ready answer. Michael did have a point. If someone had come on to a girl he was really serious about, he'd have cold cocked them. And here Michael hadn't made a single violent move. That deserved notice.

He said the words that almost stuck in his throat. "I'm sorry, Mike. I talked to Leslie, and she knows it won't happen again. Ever again," he emphasized.

"And I guess that's supposed to pacify me? Make up for what you've done?"

Davy took a deep breath. "I love all you guys. You know that. We've been together for years." He stopped talking, leaned against the couch as if it required much effort. It had taken a lot to say that. Michael saw the strain on Davy's face immediately. For the first time, he let himself wonder if Davy really was sincere in his apology.

Shifting restlessly from foot to foot, and then settling on his classic hip tilt, Mike regarded Davy closely. The guy looked something akin to defeated, although that was a bit of a far-reaching description. He didn't think he'd ever see Davy defeated. But, surely, gone was the cock sure attitude, the brazenness.

"We're goin' to Disneyland tomorrow," said Mike.

Davy looked up, attentive. "We are?"

"Yeah. Leslie, Mick and Peter are treating us, since it's our birthdays. So we can't ruin it for them. We have to act like everything's fine," this left a sour taste in Mike's mouth as he pushed out the words.

"I can do it… if you can," Davy eyed Mike uncertainly.

"Yeah, I'll do it for them. It's important to them that we have a good time."

Not much more was said; they'd covered it all, and neither one wanted to dwell on it to the bitter end, so Michael told Davy he was going over to Leslie's. They nodded mutually. Nothing close to a handshake was on the horizon, but at least they weren't wrestling on the floor for supremacy.

When Mike got there, Leslie had just picked up the phone to call him, unable to restrain her anxiety any longer. When he walked in, she instantly knew his talk with Davy hadn't gone well. She hoped they hadn't had a physical altercation, although none of Michael's clothes were torn, and there was no blood. That, at least, eased her distress somewhat.

"Was it rough?" she asked.

"Well, it wasn't the most pleasant conversation I've ever had. I nearly decked him, but I was able to control myself. I think we hashed it out. Everything will be fine for our trip to Disneyland tomorrow."

She was greatly relieved, but kept it concealed for now. "Are you angry?" she asked. She was more concerned about Mike's state of mind right now.

"With David, yes… but I think the worst of it has passed. With you, I guess I'm still just kinda numb. I can see why the three of us have fallen for you, and you've fallen for us… it was my big fear after all."

He was right, it had been his big fear, almost from the very beginning.

"David is a bit disconsolate, but he'll come bouncing back like the spirited guy he always is."

Correct again, thought Leslie. Davy could be in a pissy mood now and then, but he didn't let things get him down for any length of time. He was like the perpetual phoenix, always rising again, a paragon, ready to take on whatever the world had to offer.

Michael gathered Leslie up as if she were a big bunch of flowers, holding her completely and entirely, arms all around her upper and middle back, reminding her of the way Peter habitually hugged her. He pulled her scent into his nostrils, taking comfort in the familiarity.

"I love you," she said, realizing she should say it each and every time she thought about it. It was essential, most specifically now. She actually wanted to say it every minute, every hour, of the day. He had nothing to fear, but how to tell him all this with a bare skeleton of words? By saying simply, "I love you," and letting him draw from it however little, however much he wanted.

"Do you desire him?" Leslie was yanked from her cozy place of comfort, no forecast, no inkling, not even a hunch that he was going to utter such a thing. There ought to be a law against that! A white lie? A stretch of the truth? Possible responses warred within her. In the end, she settled on a mild truth.

"Somewhat… Michael, …" she picked her words as if she might topple over a precariously balanced stack of cards if she happened to choose the wrong one. "When a man is holding you, in the darkness, and you've been without… intimate affection… from the two you want it from… it's easy to…get caught up in the moment. But… in the grand scheme of things… it doesn't matter."

"Why does the thought of David coming on to you make me jealous, yet the thought of Peter doing the same thing turns me on?" he was seemingly thinking aloud. Maybe this is why I've been misunderstood most of my life-I'm complicated."

"Because you're in love with both me and Peter?" she asked, since that was the only answer that made sense to her.

"Probably," Michael was still busy knitting pieces of thoughts together. "I know David wasn't aiming to get you into bed, and I know you wouldn't have done that. I just don't like the way he sneaked around about it. That pisses me off more than anything else about it."

"He was being playful…"

"I know, but then, the night the power went out, it went beyond playful. At least, in my book it did."

"I wish it had been you who had done that… or Peter," she grinned.

"Me or Peter, or both me and Peter. That sounds damn good too."

She tried to relax into him, but something was stopping her. She still looked and felt unsettled, unnaturally stiff to him. "Leslie," he said. "Fear is the antidote for desire. Now… what do you fear?"

His insight is impressive, she thought. "You not believing me that I'm not looking for a love affair with Davy."

All was silent. "I believe you," his eyes held hers gently, not harshly or with any kind of demand. Those dark eyes were blatantly telling her he had no remaining doubts. It didn't take long after that for Leslie to unwind and enjoy the fact that she was alone with Michael. He was right in his roundabout way of saying that once the fear was gone… the desire would replace it.

"Michael," she buried her face in his neck, kissing, nibbling. "I think the fear has worn off."

Michael groaned out loud. His erection throbbed as he shifted his hips so their bodies were lined up.

"I'll accept that, ma'am," he said, exaggerating his Texas accent. She suspected he knew how much it turned her on. "And now…its been so damn long. What's it been… two-three days? " his lips were getting closer to hers by the nano second, now that she'd thoroughly ravished his neck.

"Give me a hickey," he breathed before his lips met hers.

Did she hear him right? Not sure, she accepted his lips with hunger. He was behaving more like Peter in the early days than himself. He seemed hardly able to rein himself in. His lips were demanding, devouring. Opening wider, his tongue just beyond her reach.

Their lips came apart for a second. "A hickey on my tongue," he said. So he had said hickey! He teased her for a couple of minutes before allowing her to fish his tongue out and suck greedily at it. They were holding each other so tightly that Leslie could feel the outline of his erection against her belly. So firm it almost felt like steel. She was so delighted to be able to sink into this with abandon, not have to worry about pulling her lower body away as they had done for so long in the beginning. It made this close contact ten times better than if they'd just met each other and jumped into bed within days or weeks.

He sighed as their wild kiss ended. "Know what that reminds me of?" his voice caressed like smooth, silky chocolate. "And I wanna hear you say it." His breaths were coming quick with desire. She had to hide her face against his cheek, near his ear in order to say the words.

"Of me sucking you?" she whispered.

"Arrrgghh…" he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the rug.

"God, that turns me on. Hearing you say it. I guess I'm getting a little too much like Peter, huh?"

"Yes… I love it."

"I never would have known… Peter has some pretty good ideas, and some good timing too. We talk that way to each other… but I never thought of talking like that to you until I heard Peter do it. You went wild too…" Michael was becoming more and more excited, thinking about how Peter had used words that he knew Leslie would not appreciate otherwise… yes, it was all about timing.

Naughty Peter…thought Leslie. He's rubbing off on Michael.

"Yeah," he went on. "Peter likes to experiment. I'm learnin' a lot from him. He's a hell of a lot more clever than most people realize." Michael began to undress.

"The public sex part, I don't know about. But the dirty talk now and then when the passion is high…I think I could learn to really like that." His eyes were practically glazed over as he ogled her, still completely dressed, in the middle of the living room. Seeing him slide his gaze up and down her body sent shivers right through her. He was half undressed… now fully undressed, his cock pointing tautly toward the ceiling. Leslie was sure she could see every vein pounding in it. He now lay on the rug, waiting for her…

She knelt down beside him, running her fingers through the black hair on his chest, her eyes roving and admiring every inch of his exposed flesh. He had lost almost all of his bashfulness. His shyness had never been as obvious as Peter's, as he'd done pretty well at hiding it, but he had felt a little intimidated when she'd looked at him boldly when he was naked. Not anymore. He was growing to love her eyes on him because they were always soft, approving, her body always willing.

They fell into kissing that was about as hot and heavy as it could possibly get. Leslie undressed in the midst of it. It was like trying to undress in a boat that is being tossed about in a tumultous sea. Their hands were all over each other, getting in each other's way, making them laugh even though the desire was maddening.

When finally completely unclothed, Leslie mentioned the light was on, and the drapes were not pulled.

"Well, what do you know? I might have some exhibitionist tendencies myself!" Mike announced, ignoring Leslie's dumbfounded look. "Peter might need some entertainment. After all, it's only been a few hours since he… um… was here."

Leslie couldn't help but laugh. Mike had such a dry, sarcastic humor, usually coupled with a straight face, affecting her more profoundly than someone who has a more commonplace style of humor. When she looked at the window, half expecting to see Peter peeking in, Mike laughed heartily and openly, not snuffing it out like he so often did.

"Even if he were looking, it's not as if he hasn't already seen it!" Michael thought it endearing that Leslie would even give it a second thought.

Later, as they coupled vigorously, Michael working at getting his feelings out into the open, allowing the groans and moans to slide out, and not worrying about volume, she realized he was attempting to be as uninhibited as Peter. Well, maybe that was impossible, but she really enjoyed seeing him opening himself to as much pleasure as he could with the reserved side of him hardly manifesting itself.

"Leslie, let me fuck you," he had finally let the words form, and her response was his substantial reward. She met his every thrust, holding him hard, making the most charming pleading noises. His orgasm was the most intense she'd ever had the pleasure of seeing him savor. He cried out loud, nearly as loudly as Peter, saying her name repetitively. It was a glorious night—Michael's trust making it all the sweeter.

When he first opened his eyes in the morning, Leslie's hushed voice greeted him. "Happy birthday, Michael."

Michael had quite a time, finally heaving himself out of her warm bed to get to the Pad to shower and dress for Disneyland. If he could have, he would have gladly stayed there with her for the rest of the day. Leslie busied herself getting ready.

As soon as Michael walked in, there was Peter, already showered, dressed and ready to go. He'd left three days of stubble for Leslie, and Michael made a mental note not to shave this morning himself.

"Happy birthday, Michael. I'm going over to Leslie's, is that okay?" asked Peter.

"Of course it is. She's just as much your girlfriend as mine. She should be ready to go soon. Holy shit, it's only barely seven!" Mike exclaimed as he looked at the clock for the first time.

"I've been up since six, and ready since six-thirty!" said Peter proudly. Davy and Micky sat at the table, barely awake and gulping down coffee. "Happy birthday, Mike," they said in unison, and Michael wasn't quite sure if they were fully awake, or still dreaming.

Peter, wanting to see Leslie, was rushing toward the door. Mike observed how fast that guy could move when he was excited about something. "Oh, Peter! Don't slam the door… PETER!" It was too late. The door slammed loud enough to shake Davy and Micky in their chairs. The whole Pad, in fact. Mike sighed and headed to the bathroom to shower before Davy and Micky used up all the hot water.

When they reached Disneyland, Mike shoved his expression into neutral and watched Davy like a hawk. From behind his sunglasses, Mike saw nothing to pique his interest. Nothing out of the ordinary. The little heartbreaker didn't act any different than he ever did. He talked to them all, joked around. How could Mike have not suspected anything? Was he losing his power of observance? It was now that Mike was understanding for the first time that Davy really hadn't meant anything by his actions. If he had, he would be avoiding Mike's eyes, not talking over much to him, not laughing as much. Something would have been dubious about Davy's air. But Davy didn't do anything questionable that he hadn't done all along. The Manchester Cowboy was not guilty of trying to seduce Leslie. And Leslie was not guilty of allowing it. It had been the circumstances, and Davy's playful nature that had precipitated lively, albeit harmless, behavior. It had been simple flirting. Now, at last, Mike understood.

Michael felt such a relief to see that Peter, also, had forgiven and evidently, forgotten. Michael had seen Leslie and Peter talking, off by themselves, and he realized Peter was telling Leslie that he knew the rest of the story. Peter had never even winced. He'd accepted it as normal, realizing nothing more would come of it. Yep, Michael could stand to learn a lot from Peter.

The caves in Frontier Land made Michael nervous. He was claustrophobic, and the passageway was narrow and twisting. Right in the middle of it, he almost panicked. There were people in front of him and people in back, in a long line, and no way to get out quickly. The walls were less than a foot away on either side of him, the ceiling giving only a few inches of clearance over his head. It was dark too. Darkness didn't bother him; tight closeness along with the darkness did.

Then he remembered Leslie and Davy in dark places…

.