Two weeks later…

- oOo -

In the often-used home gym tucked inside the southwest corner of the mansion, Nathan Scott was truly his father's son. The sixteen-year-old was a mental beast, focused on nothing but the techno music pumping through the room's speakers while he powered through his ab crunches then switched without a break to the lat pulldown station so he could work his triceps, shoulder, and back muscles. As soon as those were burning pleasantly, he was on to leg presses, never groaning and never missing a beat.

Across the room, Tim Smith wasn't feeling nearly so driven. Sometimes he could – and wanted to – keep up with his best friend, but tonight was not one of these times. He grimaced through his final rep of twenty bicep curls then set down his barbells with relief, mopped his face and dropped the towel on the floor. He raised his voice to be heard over the music.

"After we finish up here, you wanna get out and do something?"

Nathan snorted. "Like what?" he raised his voice as well while keeping count in his head, his concentration unbroken. "What is there ever to do a Sunday night in this town?"

"I dunno," Tim said, moseying over to the stereo to turn it down. "We could pick up a few beers and get wasted again at your beach house."

Nathan's glutes promptly clenched alongside his quads. "Forget it."

"Why?"

"'Cause I said hell no."

"But your dad's in the house somewhere, isn't he? We can just steal his key—"

"And then what, Dim?" Nathan finished up the last of his leg presses then reached for the water bottle at his feet and popped the top. "You think the code to get in is the same as it was before? Well, it's not. He changed it and he isn't telling anyone what it is."

Tim gazed at him, confused. "Not even your mom?"

"Why would he tell my mom?" Nathan asked in total disgust. "She doesn't use the beach house anymore." She's never home long enough.

Tim took a minute to process that disappointing bit of news then toured the room, stretching his arms over his head. "Okay," he began thoughtfully, "so we just gotta think up a new way to break in that doesn't set off the alarm."

Nathan finished quenching his thirst then shook his head as he started a fresh set of leg presses. "You totally didn't learn your lesson from last time, huh?"

"What lesson?"

"Gee, I dunno. Maybe the whipping you got with your dad's belt that you told me about? Any of that ringing a bell yet?"

Tim stopped in his tracks and pouted at the reminder. As always after getting punished at home – this time for acting like a delinquent thug, damaging personal property, costing his dad over two thousand bucks in repayment and embarrassing the man to hell – Tim had confided in Nathan what happened to him that night a few weeks back after they were both caught breaking into the Scott family beach house. He shared all the worst details for two simple reasons: because (a) Nathan was his best friend and (b) because he knew Nathan would sympathize and understand. Nathan did, of course, how could he not when Tim knew all about Dan Scott's private method for disciplining his own superstar son, but somehow that fact never stopped the guy from rubbing it in at the first opportunity. Tim scowled a Nathan now for acting like a dick yet again.

"It wasn't so bad," he lied. "I could sit in class just fine once we were back in school on Monday. You saw me."

"Yeah, I did, and you were dying to stand up just much as I was," Nathan said with uncharacteristic honesty. "I'm not breaking into my dad's beach house for at least another year, Tim. I mean it this time."

Tim was quiet a moment, then burst out in a laugh. "Yeah, right," he scoffed. "And anyway, since when did you become such a pussy?"

Nathan shot Tim a murderous look. "Asshole! Did you seriously just call me—?"

"I totally did!" Tim cackled. "'Cause you're a pussy, Nate! I got the belt; you only got the paddle! Since when can't you take a lickin' and keep on—?"

"Since I decided you can get the hell outta my house if you don't quit insulting me!"

Tim shut up in mid-cackle. He considered asking Nathan what was bugging him all of a sudden, given that he couldn't even take a joke anymore, but then realized he already knew the answer to that question. He waited for Nathan to quit glaring at him and go back to his workout, this time at the bench press, before he heaved a sigh then went over to spot him. After a tense silence between them that stretched out longer than Tim could stand, he thought of the three other kids from Tree Hill High that were currently in this very house and shuddered at how fast things were changing now that a certain bastard half-brother wasn't moping around and keeping to the shadows anymore.

"I can't believe it," he grumbled without warning. "You know, Brooke's upstairs right now with him."

Nathan knew exactly who Tim was referring to and his mood soured even more. "So?"

"So, what does she see in him that I don't have?" Tim complained. "I'm just as a good looking. I'm—"

"You're a troll, Tim. Own it."

Tim didn't agree but also didn't take offense since he was positive that Nathan didn't truly prefer his brother to his best friend. He swapped places without question when Nathan decided he'd been slacking too long and ordered him to lay down on the bench. "Well, who wants to hook up with Brooke Davis anyway," he finally muttered while lifting the barbell far over his head. "She's not hot enough to date me yet."

"Whatever you say, dude."

"I know, right?"

"Right."

"Exactly. I'll just go after Peyton instead. She's gotta be desperate for some Tim now that you dumped her skinny ass."

All at once, the heavy barbell was out of his hands. Nathan had stolen it and dropped the thing on the rack with a clang. Worse, his expression was turning dark, and Tim braced himself as he sat back up, wide-eyed.

"What? What'd I say?"

Nathan leaned onto the rack and pinned him with a look. "Peyton is mine."

"But you guys broke—"

"Tim, I'm telling you this once and once only: you ask her out and your face and my fist are going to meet."

Tim opened his mouth to object then thought better of that when Nathan looked like he would be just happy to finish his workout by pounding his best friend's upper body.

"How about Theresa then?" he proposed uncertainly. "You haven't dated her in a long while so I can ask her out, right?"

Nathan didn't say a word, just shook his head.

"Okay, forget Theresa. What about Chelsea?"

No change.

Tim blew out his cheeks in exasperation. "What, I can't go after any of the hot chicks at our school?! You get them all? That's not fair! Who's left for me then?!"

Nathan ignored that question and simply gestured for a thoroughly pissed-off Tim to get up so he could take his place again. He had a plan for getting Peyton back and since nothing else had worked so far in the weeks since she'd dumped him, it was time for plan B: amping up the jealousy by way of her friends. Brooke had made it clear she wasn't interested in any guy except a certain bastard upstairs, but so what. She was just one chick. That still left open season on every other girl on the cheerleading squad, didn't it? Yes, it did.

Still, as Tim glared at him now from above, clearly itching to bitch, Nathan forced himself to chill out a little. After all, Tim was the only person left in his life that he could rely on to have his six. He sure as hell didn't feel like he could turn to his never-present mom, his hardass dad, his supposed half-brother or Peyton, so he'd be an idiot to push Tim away too.

Nathan set the barbell back on the rack then sat up and faced the resentful gaze of his oldest friend head on, giving him a half-apologetic shrug. "Look, if you can snag your chick from some other pool for awhile, you'll be doing me a huge favor. Can you do that for me?"

Tim's scowl began to lessen. He could feel himself giving in, not surprising since he nearly always did when it came to something Nathan wanted, but a token resistance was expected. He narrowed his eyes. "Maybe," he groused. "Depends how long."

"A few weeks max," Nathan said with his usual self-confidence. "I promise, Tim. There's just something I gotta get done first and then when it is done, I'll back off. We cool now…?"

Tim hesitated for only a moment longer then eagerly returned the fist bump Nathan was offering. He watched Nathan lay back down then begin to raise and lower the barbell again. "You know, maybe I'll go after Pucas's nerdy friend, Haley. You think I should? She is kinda cute."

Nathan let out a snort. "From what I've seen, dude, her standards are high, too high for the likes of your dumb ass. Better pick someone else like, I don't know, Bevin."

"I thought hooters were out for me?"

Nathan pictured in his mind eye's the blondest, ditsiest, toothiest cheerleader at Tree Hill High and had no qualms about knocking her off his list of possible conquests. "Well, you can have her with my blessing."

"Cool!" Tim licked his lips at then began to snicker as a bizarre thought suddenly struck him. "Hey, you know if I go out with Bevin, Pucas hooks up with Brooke and you start going out with Peyton again, this means you, me and Pucas will all be dating the top cheerleaders at our school. Kinda funny, right?"

Nathan didn't reply.

Without wanting to, he pictured himself at the same house parties as his half-brother – house parties and clam bakes and after game get-togethers that Lucas was bound to get dragged to soon by Brooke – and it turned his stomach. Not only had the guy taken over Nathan's house and his dad, but he was infiltrating Nathan's crowd too.

Jesus Christ, was there anything safe from him?

Damn it!

- oOo -

Haley James turned off the light within the spacious upstairs bathroom that Lucas and Nathan shared and was heading for her best friend's bedroom again down the hall when a glint of something mysterious caught her eye.

She stopped.

This evening was her first (very long overdue) visit to the Scott mansion and Lucas's tour an hour ago, if one could even call it that, had been hurried and therefore incomplete, in her opinion. Apart from a speedy pass through the kitchen and living room, an offhand gesture toward the weight room, the exterior court and the enormous backyard, and then a mere glimpse (a glimpse!) of a brand-new home theater, Haley hadn't seen much else unless one included the bathroom she'd just exited plus Lucas's bedroom itself. But there were other rooms to explore, up here on the second floor especially. All around her there were doors leading to rooms she had yet to poke her head inside and Haley's inquiring mind needed answers. Of course, she understood Lucas's reluctance to show off his swanky new digs since he wasn't a show-off kind of guy … but still. Didn't he suspect how curious she'd grown over the last six and a half months? Didn't he sense how eager she was to inspect the place he'd been living in all this time since Karen's death? How dare he make such a hasty circuit throughout this monster house? They could have so much fun playing hide and seek in here!

Haley bit her lip in indecision for only a moment longer then looked around, saw/heard no one coming and followed the glint to a door that was mostly closed. It was dark inside, and she pushed the door all the way then felt for a light switch and flicked it. Her eyes widened at what they beheld then narrowed. It was immediately obvious whose room this was.

So, this is where Mr. Basketball Superstar crashes every night. Huh. No wonder the guy's got an ego the size of The Milky Way. Seriously, how many trophies does any one person need to display?

Haley took note of the overpriced wall speakers installed strategically around the room to go with the expensive game consoles plus the giant TV screen propped on one dresser, and she turned off the light with a shake of her head then left. Lucas hadn't been kidding when he'd confessed that Dan Scott did not skimp on anything to do with his house, his wife, himself or his children. Absolutely nothing in this mansion so far looked cheap or timeworn, and the stuff upon stuff Dan had gifted his sons was mindboggling. Exactly how much money did the man have? Haley had no idea, but she lost all interest in thinking about it once she re-entered Lucas's bedroom and collided with a bubbly brunette on her way out, clutching her schoolbag.

"Are you hungry, Tutor Girl? Lucas and I are starving. We've been studying for ages and I've decided we need a mega snack."

Haley snorted. "If it's got chocolate, count me in, but you know we just barely started cracking the books, right?"

Brooke waved a hand dismissively. "In your world, yes, but in mine, this is, like, way more studying than I do in a month. You two scholastic weirdos are clearly trying to make my head explode with all these facts and … figures and … stuff." Abruptly, Brooke shut the door then yanked a startled Haley further down the empty hall so Lucas couldn't eavesdrop on what she was going to say next. She dropped her voice to be safe as she pulled from her bag a box of Pillsbury chocolate fudge brownie mix, showed it to Haley then hurried to stuff it back out of sight. "I'm going to surprise Lucas with my homemade brownies again. He really liked them last time, didn't he?"

Brooke looked so uncharacteristically nervous that Haley couldn't bring herself to tell the truth: store-bought mixes aren't exactly 'homemade', and Brooke Davis couldn't bake to save her life.

"Um, I think so, but maybe you could try to undercook them just a little this ti—"

"And have them come out raw?!" Brooke made a disgusted face then gazed at her new friend with faint mistrust. "I don't want to give Luke food poisoning, Haley. I want to impress the guy, so he'll finally make a move and kiss me. I thought you knew how to cook?"

Before Haley could do more than gape, Brooke flounced out of sight toward the stairs and the kitchen below. Haley watched her go then returned to Lucas's bedroom, marched straight to the right side of his bed closest to where he was lounging and plopped down, giving her oldest friend a look that clearly meant a serious talk was coming.

"So, you and Brooke. Really, dude?"

Stretched out freely in his hanging chair now that Brooke wasn't hogging half the space, Lucas glanced up from the linear algebra math problems he was tackling on Nathan's behalf. "Me and Brooke what?"

"Dating!" Haley exclaimed. "Lucas Scott, you are going out with not only a Miss Pretty and Popular but the actual captain of the cheerleading squad at our high school!"

"We're not exactly going ou—"

"Like heck you're not! First, you tell me you picked her a few weeks back by the lake, then I find out you spent an entire weekend doing God-knows-what together—"

"It's called getting to know each other."

"Whatever. Then she's all over you at school and don't tell me she hasn't been because I have eyes, they're open and I see she's practically a fixture at your locker, at our table in the quad and everywhere else we hang. Plus—"

"Hale—"

"Plus, not even homework together is sacred anymore!"

Lucas set his notebook aside and sat up with a smirk at how his normally cool-headed best friend was freaking out. "Hales, you're still my BFF. She's not taking me away from you, okay?"

For that Haley reached out and slapped his leg. "I'm not worried about that, you nitwit! I'm worried that ALL our grades are gonna tank if we keep spending time giggling and gossiping with Tigger instead of doing our homework well like we should!"

"Haley. Brooke has only joined us twice and don't tell me you didn't enjoy doing homework at her house when she invited us last week 'cause I know you did. It was all over your face when you practically fell asleep in the hot tub afterwards."

"I know, I know." Haley scrunched up her nose, feeling guilty. "That totally destroys my argument a bit, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it kinda does."

Haley pondered that a moment before she gave herself a shake and snapped out of it. "Okay, well, my original astonishment is still warranted, Luke, so I need to know. What the heck are you doing dating Brooke Davis of all people?"

Lucas sighed and went over to his CD player to change the disc they'd been listening to. "Listen, we're not officially dating, Hales. We're just hanging out, you know, like you and I hang?"

"Oh no, no, no, buster. She is downstairs, right now, using your huge new kitchen to bake 'homemade' brownies agai—"

"Which are for all of us."

"And by 'us' you mean 'you two' since my digestive system still hasn't recovered from the last overcooked lumps Brooke forced me to swallow."

As Haley stretched out on the bed, reached for her American history text and flipped to the pages she'd bent in class, Lucas shot her a look over his shoulder.

"C'mon, her brownies aren't that bad."

"Speak for yourself, lover boy. My point is she likes you big time, which makes her repeated culinary attempts part of some weird wooing process."

"Hales."

"I'm telling you, Luke, she wants you bad and not just to 'hang out'. I've seen the way she looks at you and it's nothing like how I do. She's dying to make out with you. In fact, she probably wants to do a helluva lot more than that. The end game of Brooke Davis is quite clearly you and her right here, buck naked, doing stuff in this bed that I personally will never do except with my husband on our wedding night." Haley frowned as she promptly heard herself and pictured Lucas and Brooke going at it right where she lay. Ew. On the verge of finding some way to get comfortable on the hardwood floor instead, Haley glanced up from her textbook and realized a very distinct blush was now creeping up her best friend's neck. Her jaw dropped. "Oh my god. You want the same thing, don't you? Am I out of the loop? Have you guys already done it yet and you just didn't tell me?"

Lucas promptly turned scarlet as Haley leaned forward with rabid curiosity. "No!"

"Well, why not? Are you scared to lose your virginity to her, to be, like, ravished by a teenaged she-wolf? Hell, I know I would be."

"No! Haley!"

"Well then what gives, Luke? Don't tell me you're stringing her along on purpose to keep her interested. You're not, are you? Please tell me you're not."

"No! I'm not! And can we talk about something else, please?" Lucas returned to his hanging chair, snatched up his notebook and tried to bury himself in math again, but it wasn't working. He could feel Haley's eyes trying to meet his, and he knew she wasn't going to give up until he felt her watching and caved. After another few seconds spent struggling, well aware that his face was probably redder now than the proverbial tomato, Lucas finally gave in and looked up. "All right. The truth is … I am stringing her along but not for the reasons you think." Before Haley could demand that he elaborate, Lucas took a deep breath then finished. "I just don't want to rush things with her like every other guy she's known. I want her to know she's worth the wait."

Haley studied him in silence a moment then nodded once, satisfied. "Okay, you got me. Good answer."

"No Nathan, remember?" Lucas said, reminding her of the personality no one in his life seemed to want him to develop.

"No Nathan," Haley agreed. She pondered what Lucas had just told her in a not-so-subtle way and cocked her head. "You've really grown to like her that much? Enough to sleep with her? Seriously?"

The blush intensified. "Yeah. You gonna rag me about it forever?"

"No … I think I'll bank this one so the day I lose my mind and fall for, like, one of the players on the basketball team, you ain't got nothing to say."

Lucas and Haley shared a look then a snicker. They shifted their focus to homework for the forty minutes while Oasis played in the background until Haley took a break from crafting test questions for their upcoming history quiz to watch Lucas work his way once again through algebra problems he'd solved two semesters ago.

Unbelievable.

Haley pressed her lips into a thin line and told herself not to bring it up like she had the last few times they done homework together and she'd realized the math problems he'd been solving benefitted a certain Ravens athlete rather than Lucas himself. He knew how she felt about his plan to get on Nathan's good side; there was nothing she could say this Sunday night that he hadn't already heard. Keeping quiet and just letting it slide was the way to go obviously. She knew that and yet … she just couldn't. The urge to speak up was rising again, higher and higher, and finally, Haley gave in to it.

"I see what you're doing over there, Lucas Eugene Scott, and I still can't believe it," she said stiffly. "It's cheating."

Go Let It Out was pumping from the surround-sound speakers in Lucas's room, but it still wasn't loud enough to muffle Haley's displeasure. Lucas heaved a sigh. "I'm not cheating for myself, Hales. You know that."

"Potato Potahto. You're still cheating Nathan out of an education and that's not right."

"How?" Lucas demanded. He stopped what he was doing and glared, tired of getting lectured every time they did homework together lately. "What's not right about helping my own brother not flunk out of school?"

"You know what's not right about it, Luke!" Haley forced herself upright so she could face him head on as well. "Nathan's not learning anything this way AND you're cheating all the kids in his class by moving him up the ranks to a spot he hasn't earned!"

"Moving him up the ranks? You're acting like I'm giving him As, Haley, and I'm not. I'm only doing just enough to give him the Cs he needs to maintain sport eligibility."

"Was he getting Cs before? No? Then I rest my case," Haley snapped, allowing no further argument. "You're moving him up the ranks, Lucas. End of story."

Lucas worked his jaw a moment then stubbornly returned his attention to the algebra textbook in his lap. "It's only temporary."

Haley didn't get a chance to reply as Brooke burst into the room just then with a platter of semi-charred squares piled decoratively in the center. The second Haley got a whiff of over-cooked chocolate then checked her watch, she cringed inwardly. The head cheerleader of the Tree Hill Ravens had been downstairs 'baking' for far too long. Again. God help them all when they took a bite.

Brooke, naturally, was oblivious.

"Brownies, you guys!" she announced unnecessarily, heading straight for Lucas. "Delicious, delectable brownies! Luke, since we're in your house and I just messed up your parents' kitchen, you get the first one." Brooke held them out then deflated when Lucas took one joylessly while Haley took none at all. She turned from one to the other, noted that neither was really making eye contact anymore and she set the platter on the dresser then sat beside Lucas. "Okay, what were you two talking about. I feel like I just walked into the tail end of one of my parents' arguments."

Lucas glanced at Haley then looked away, shifting to give Brooke more room to his right in the hanging chair. "It's nothing."

"Right," Haley added a touch too sharply, "just a difference of opinion on what constitutes academic integrity in this house."

Brooke winced as she realized they must have been battling it out again about Lucas doing Nathan's homework. They'd argued about it at her house the week before and the matter clearly wasn't resolved since they were still fighting about it today. Brooke could feel Lucas tensing up next to her and knew he was hurt by Haley's opinion of him, but taking his hand and squeezing it in support might not be welcome, so she did the next best thing. She focused on Haley.

"Look, I know as a Tutor Girl this must, like, stick in your craw or something, but Lucas is really just helping Nathan, Haley. He's helping him avoid academic suspension. I mean can you imagine what would happen if Coach Whitey and Principal Turned booted him off the team?"

Haley didn't reply until Brooke pleaded with her silently to tell the truth, so at last, Haley did. "Fine. The Ravens would suck, and you'd end up cheering for a bunch of losers."

"Not to mention my dad would kill him," Lucas muttered.

"That too and we definitely don't want any of that, do we?" Brooke didn't wait for either friend to reply. She bounded over to the dresser to collect the 'mega snack' she'd baked then held it out to Haley with a dimpled grin to try and improve her mood. "Have a brownie, Hales. Trust me, they're just what you need."

Haley's eyes met Lucas's and that was it. She conceded defeat on all fronts for now and took a brownie. A placating bite for Brooke, a shared grin with Lucas and things were back to normal. As everyone got comfortable again in the study spots they'd staked out hours ago, Haley picked up the textbook for the one class they all shared this semester and opened it. "So, are we gonna prep each other for the history quiz we're gonna have this week, or what?"

"I'm game." Lucas took a bite of the chocolatey treat in his hand then promptly coughed it back up and dropped it discretely into the garbage can on his left with a grimace.

Beside him Brooke didn't notice. She studied her own rock-hard brownie from all sides, wondering idly why she just couldn't make it as attractive as the picture on the Pillsbury box. "I still don't get how you know there's gonna be a quiz, Haley. Is this like one of the benefits of working in the Tutor Center? Teachers tell you first what their plans are for class?"

Haley snorted at the notion. "Nope, it's one of the benefits of picking up on patterns, Brooke. This Wednesday is going to be the third one of the month, and that means a history quiz, guaranteed. Mr. Fushiyama never disappoints."

"Speak your yourself," Brooke said with a moue of disgust. She abandoned her brownie to the closest flat surface within reach – after all, she certainly didn't need the extra calories – then gave Haley a sharp look while leaning back into her seatmate without thinking. "As far as I'm concerned, a pop quiz in any class is an extremely disappointing turn of events."

"I couldn't agree more," Lucas said, putting his arm around her shoulders in the course of stretching.

Brooke's eyes widened in surprise at his touch but only for a second. After all, this was the move she'd been waiting for all this time, wasn't it? It sure was. Determined to act cool and take this in stride, Brooke drew one leg up, tucked it beneath her, then took Lucas's free hand inside her own and laced their fingers possessively. She was quite content now to prepare for this silly quiz if it meant she could snuggle with her new boyfriend. Of course, they hadn't said the official words to each other yet but those were just minor details. This boy right here was definitely hers; he'd proven it by draping his arm around her.

Haley watched a blushing Lucas struggling manfully to accept this rapid turn of events and cleared her throat to keep from laughing. "You two, um, need a moment?"

Brooke tightened her grip and spoke for the two of them inside their semi-private cocoon.

"No need, Tutor Girl. Go ahead and hit us with the first question."

- oOo -

Lucas aced the quiz on Wednesday morning, as did Haley and even Brooke for the first time in her academic career. When first period was over, though, only Haley moved on to pre-calculus. Lucas tried to only to find found himself pulled by Brooke straight to the student parking lot and into the backseat of his Corvette for a celebratory make out session that lasted considerably longer than either teenager expected.

Lucas had zero regrets.

In separate detention rooms forty minutes later (Principal Turner had caught them sneaking back inside almost ten minutes into fourth period), Lucas didn't mind being confined to a classroom all by himself for lunch. He simply ate his chicken-salad sandwich, stared at the empty blackboard eight feet away without seeing it and pondered his new girlfriend with a smile, wondering why he'd never thought to give the head cheerleader of the Ravens much thought before. Of course, a part of Lucas was appalled that he'd given us so easily on his goal of making Peyton Sawyer his first girlfriend, but that part was growing tinier by the hour.

Brooke Davis was awesome.

She didn't love reading novels like he did and she wasn't much interested in the academic benefits of high school, but who cared? She was thoughtful and fun, and she lightened his spirits. Best of all, she was attracted to him big-time and proved it every day. The first beaming face he saw on campus nowadays was hers and it never took long after she spotted him for their arms to link or their hands to touch. Already he'd been introduced to every member of her cheerleading squad and invited to at least a half-dozen parties, and why? Because he'd accidentally put his arm around her on Sunday thus officially kick-starting their relationship.

Talk about an auspicious beginning.

For his final minutes of detention, Lucas leaned back in his seat and let his mind fixate on what it had felt like earlier to make out with Brooke in his Corvette … especially once she'd climbed onto his lap then began to press a certain body part against him, teasing him oh so rhythmically.

All at once, Lucas felt way too hot.

He jumped when the bell rang a split second later then cringed inside once he looked down and realized the state he was in, but a deep breath followed by one heck of a hard pinch to his inner thigh quickly took care of that problem.

Lucas gathered up the remains of his lunch then winced his way out into the hall. He was intent on finding Brooke, who'd had to serve her own detention in one of the empty classrooms around the corner, but instead, he found Nathan. Or possibly, Nathan found him. Either way, while a sea of chattering students filled the corridor heading to their first post-lunch classes, the brothers collided in the hallway then separated just as fast when Nathan instantly shoved Lucas into a locker.

"Watch it, jackhole!"

How Lucas managed to bite back his temper before he shoved Nathan right back, he didn't know. He set his jaw as Tim Smith pointed and laughed but restrained the impulse to chase them both down and kick their butts, watching his younger brother stride away with Tim hurrying after him like the lapdog he was.

"You all right, Boyfriend? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Lucas turned at Brooke's gentle touch and gave in to the urge to kiss her right there where any passing teacher could see. If he got caught and snagged another detention for his efforts, so be it. Ignoring the whistles and catcalls of more than a few jocks brushing by them, Lucas kissed Brooke deeper for a moment then pulled away slowly. He didn't want to, but he had to. They both had to get to class.

"What was that for?" Brooked asked breathlessly, once it was over.

"For being you and for caring when my supposed 'little' brother tries to beat me up." Lucas dug quickly into this backpack for the latest string of algebra problems he'd solved the night before on behalf of a certain ungrateful sibling then handed the sheets to Brooke. By now, she knew what to do with them. "That kiss was just my way of saying thank you for that and also for this."

Brooke took the homework he handed her then gazed at it briefly with a frown as she merged it automatically with her own. "You're welcome, Luke, but Nathan doesn't deserve your help in any way, shape or form. After what he just did to you for no good reason, I'm really starting to think I should side with Haley on thi—"

"Don't," Lucas said before she could finish. He kissed her one last time as the hallway emptied around them then backed away for the Honors English class he shared with Haley upstairs. "You're my girlfriend, remember? Please, just keep helping me out!"

Brooke didn't get a chance to reply. The last bell rang, and she watched Lucas take off. A surprise spank from a giggling Bevin jolted Brooke out of her thoughts and the two cheerleaders ran to their fifth period Math class taught by a puritanical fussbudget of a man whose constant coffee breath made students and staff alike shudder. Normally, Brooke would do what Bevin just did, that is, hold her breath, place the previous night's homework on the corner of Mr. Grambs' desk then scurry to her seat before he could breathe too heavily in her direction, but today Brooke lingered.

What if she didn't hand in Nathan's homework?

The garbage can was right there.

She could just—Wait!

"Thank you, Miss Davis." David Grambs snatched the homework right out of his pupil's arms then added it to the pile on his desk. He waved an impatient hand toward the empty chair in the third row. "To your seat now, if you please. You're tardy and we have much to cover today, so let's get to it, shall we…?"

"But-But—!"

"Miss Davis, to your seat. Unless you'd rather I issue a detention slip as well?"

Brooke pursed her lips then flounced to her desk amidst the juvenile snickering of some of her classmates. She shot Nathan a death stare on her way, which he paid no mind to as usual, and that only infuriated her more.

Lucas Scott, you'd better seriously know what you're doing! she thought while staring angrily at the back of Nathan's head. Because if he doesn't start appreciating you soon, I am going to do something about it!

- oOo -

Nathan did not start appreciating Lucas soon.

Brooke also didn't do a thing. She wanted to, though. Oh, how she wanted to. Every day that she walked into one of the four classes she shared with Nathan, she watched him slouching in his seat beside Tim, paying only minimal attention to their teachers, and she felt her blood pressure actually spiking whenever she did as Lucas asked by handing in assignments under Nathan's name that Lucas himself had completed. Brooke couldn't stop cheating though. She'd promised Lucas she wouldn't – not until he asked her to – and so far, he just wasn't asking.

Of course, Brooke had no idea how much Lucas wanted to do exactly that.

Cranking out A+ homework for himself every night to please his dad, then doing additional work in entirely different classes at the level of a C+ student was pure hell; it was time-consuming, exhausting and rapidly feeling pointless. More than once after dinner – dinners that all too often came frozen in a box now that Gran had returned home to Scranton, Dan worked late, and Deb was rarely home – Lucas had eased over to Nathan's bedroom then presented him with a paper he'd just written for his English class. It was always in the vain hope that Nathan would be grateful or at least act somewhat surprised, but Nathan was invariably neither. Any time Lucas tried to hand him anything at all, Nathan flung it right back out into the hallway. He never looked at it. He just tossed it. If Lucas dared to collect the scattered sheets, then tried to shove them in his face a second time, Nathan went further. He tore the papers in two then flung everything out into the hallway.

Lucas would curse and retreat in defeat on those occasions, but after a few days had passed he would stubbornly try again. At least once a week he would take a deep breath then head for Nathan's room at some point in the evening, hoping to start that one conversation which would lead to a better relationship and thus the end of all this tiresome tension, but every attempt Lucas made was an instant and abject failure.

"Hey, uh, Nathan—"

"What're you doing in here? Get out."

"C'mon, Nate, I just want—"

"I don't care what you want, loser! Get out!"

Then would come a hard shove. A second later, the door would slam in his face.

And so it went. Every time he tried. No exceptions.

Between this and the unfair burden Lucas was starting to feel regarding Dan, the strain he was under to shy away from his own father's affection whenever Nathan might see it, Lucas desperately wanted to give up and let Nathan go back to failing school. In fact, once a conflicted Brooke started to shoot him the same disapproving glances that Haley did every time they did homework together at one of their houses, Lucas did give up.

For a day.

The following afternoon, he drove to the river court, sat in the bleachers despite the drizzling rain and mulled his decision for hours until he changed it. He still wanted a kid brother in his life and the only one he had so far was Nathan. He had to keep trying whatever it might take to make things work with the guy, because what other choices were left?

Lucas couldn't see any.

He climbed down from the bleachers with renewed determination, got back in his car and drove straight home, intent on tackling the latest batch of homework alone, not only this night but every other night going forward too. Again, he didn't have a choice. He would continue to date Brooke and he would still hang out with Haley on occasion, but homework with either of them as part of a little study group was no longer an option. The constant pressure they exerted on him about doing Nathan's assignments wasn't fun and Lucas didn't need their judgment. This torture with his brother was hard enough as it is.

Things went on this way for the rest of the week until Friday when Lucas woke up with a cough. He didn't think much about it while he did all his usual weekend things – put in a half-day shift at his dad's dealership, swung by Keith's garage to say hi, spent time with Brooke and Haley, tried to get ahead on some homework – but all of it took a toll. Monday morning, he woke up with a stuffy nose to go along with his cough, not to mention a throat that ached constantly too; and the rest of the week was just as bad. By the time the next Friday rolled around, Lucas felt leagues worse physically than he ever had in recent memory and he couldn't downplay it anymore. He was sore all over, every second or third cough now came out as a bark, and he shook with cold no matter how many layers he piled on. Dragging his ass to Tree Hill High was no longer a priority in his current state and neither was tackling homework, not for himself and definitely not for Nathan.

Intent on leaving for work at the dealership no later than 8:25 as usual, Dan was dressed for the day and heading downstairs for his morning coffee when he passed by the spare bedroom next to Nathan's and heard someone hacking up a lung behind the closed door. He promptly doubled back and went in. Inside, Lucas was quaking under a mountain of comforters with a glass of water overturned on one of the night tables, dripping liquid onto the hardwood floors. Why Lucas was in this room instead of his own, Dan had no idea yet and he didn't care either. He stepped around the wet spots on the floor then sat next to his son on the double bed and unburied the boy's face. A hunt for fever began then, on Lucas's forehead first, followed by his cheeks and then finally the back of his neck.

Lucas opened one bleary eye at his touch and croaked, "D-Daddy, I c-cant go to s-school today. I really d-don't f-f-feel g-good."

"No kidding," Dan remarked. "First of all, your cough is worse. You sound like a cross between Batman and that guy who played Stuttering Ken in A Fish Called Wanda."

"It's n-not f-funny."

"I know, champ. I'm sorry."

"I w-want Gran. Where is sh-she?"

Heat stained Dan's cheeks. Lucas was ill yet the female family member he was pining to see wasn't Deb; it was May Scott, his grandmother. Hell, why should it be Deb? Dan thought angrily. It's not like my wife has been any kind of dependable mother figure to my boy since Karen's death. Jesus Christ, why isn't she ever around when any of us need her?! As Lucas moaned and repeated his request to see his grandma, Dan forced all thoughts of Deb from his mind. He rubbed a circle on Lucas's back instead, trying to offer at least a small measure of comfort while he broke the bad news. "She went home to your grandpa late last month, son. You don't remember?"

"I do, b-but I w-want her back."

"Well, we don't need her, champ; I can take care of you just fine. Now where do you hurt most?"

Lucas couldn't decide and after a fresh coughing spell nearly crippled him, he looked up at his father plaintively. "E-Everywhere. I h-hurt everywhere, Dad, and I w-wet my bed. I didn't m-mean to, but I wet-!"

Lucas pulled the comforters back over his head and refused to go on, coughing out of sight. The poor kid was clearly humiliated by the admission, but Dan wasn't surprised by it since bedwetting when ill was apparently a Scott family curse. Dan and Keith had both done it well into their last years of high school and Nathan wasn't above doing it either when he was especially sick. Now Lucas. Dan sighed and uncovered Lucas's face to prove there was no reason to be embarrassed while he patted his back to console him.

"Look at me, son. It's okay, understand? I know it was accident."

"But I p-peed—!"

"I know you did," Dan interrupted gently before Lucas could get himself worked up enough to start coughing again. "But you're sick and you couldn't help it. Believe me, I get it. Now, did you clean yourself up already?"

Lucas nodded, shamefaced. The early morning task had exhausted him, but he'd managed somehow even if he'd been too tired afterwards to get dressed again. His bed was another matter of course. The mattress in his room was no doubt still sodden, maybe even starting to smell, and Lucas opened his mouth to confess that too and apologize for it. Instead, he felt his eyes starting to prickle as his lungs seemed to tighten.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, son?"

"It h-hurts to breathe. I n-need you to f-f-fix me like … like my mom…"

As Lucas stopped mid-sentence and his face began to crumple, Dan acted quickly. He lifted him onto his lap, lanky teenager and all, and hugged him close, rocking his firstborn for the first time ever in Lucas's life. Under the comforters the boy was only wearing a cotton T-shirt, but neither father nor son noticed. Lucas was too upset to try and cover himself and Dan honestly couldn't have cared less that his kid was half-naked. "I will fix you up," he promised, "just like you mom used to. Don't cry, champ. You're mine now and I'll get you better, I swear. Just trust your old man." Dan listened carefully and braced himself for a flood of tears anyway, but Lucas sobbed only once then stopped. He sagged against his father, seemingly too exhausted to vent his own emotions, and Dan breathed a sigh of relief. "You probably just have some kind of flu," he continued, easing Lucas back under the covers, "so don't try and get out of this bed, okay? I'm going to go call a friend who can help and then I'll be right back."

Lucas didn't answer except to cough miserably, so Dan passed a warm hand over his head then kissed him and stood up. This was the first time Lucas had truly fallen sick under his roof and, in a way, it was encouraging to see his normally resilient firstborn transform into a whiny, needy kid. How many of these moments had Dan missed while Lucas was being raised by Karen and Keith on the poor side of town? Too many to count probably. It was about time he had an opportunity to catch up.

Dan gazed down at Lucas a moment longer with affection the stepped into the hallway and pulled out his cell.

- oOo -

As it turned out, Lucas did not have the flu. One of the perks of owning the largest car dealership in Tree Hill, North Carolina was having the power to grant deep discounts to residents with deep pockets who could be trusted to return the favor down the road. On this occasion, Dan called an internist who worked at the New Brunswick Regional Medical Center. Lionel Matheson did not normally make house calls like most doctors in the modern era, but when a man has two children of his own going to medical school, both of whom were gifted high-end SUVs at dealer cost, well, a man makes exceptions. Dan Scott and his family were two of them, which meant that several hours before Deb returned from her latest business trip around eleven o'clock that night, Dan had already replaced Lucas's mattress with a new one and was following doctor's orders to treat a semi-severe case of bronchitis.

"Is he all right?" Deb asked quietly. She noted a handful of adult diapers on the dresser across the room but refrained from commenting on them. "When did he get sick?"

Dan looked over at his wife standing in the doorway of Lucas's bedroom with her purse and her suitcase at her feet, a wife whom he'd barely seen in a month and a 'mother' whom his boys hadn't seen in nearly two, and he couldn't be bothered to play nice, not after remembering how plaintively Lucas had begged to see his grandmother when he should have been calling for Deb. Just thinking about that set Dan's teeth on edge all over again, and his jaw pulsed as he cut his eyes away from hers.

"Do you care? You haven't called once since last Wednesday."

Deb sighed. "Don't start with me, please. Of course, I care."

"Don't make me laugh, Deb, because in case you haven't noticed we are now at the end of September, the end. Your birthday was three days ago, and no one here could reach you. Not even the son you carried for nine months was able to get ahold of his own mother to say happy birthday."

"I know that, and I'm sorry. I was in meetings all day."

"Sure you were."

"Look, just because my job takes me outside of Tree Hill doesn't mean I've lost interest in major events or our family. I was extremely preoccupied on Tuesday. Nathan will understand that once I talk to him and explain things." Deb ignored the snort Dan expelled at that and came into the room proper, leaving her bags in the hall. At Lucas's bedside, she gazed down at him dozing fitfully then frowned with deep concern as he rattled a truly awful cough in his sleep. "Dan, he sounds terrible. We need to take him to a doctor."

"I already did that," Dan snapped, "which you'd know if you'd been here since Lucas has been under the weather for over a week. This morning he was worse than ever, so I had Matheson pass by and examine him. At his recommendation, I took Lucas to the hospital for chest X-rays and blood tests. We got back this afternoon which means you can feel free to leave us again now that you know everything that I do."

"Do I?" Deb asked when her spouse seemed intent on saying no more. "Because you still haven't told me the results." Deb waited but still nothing was said. "Well? For God's sake, Dan, are you seriously not going to tell me?"

Dan was tempted to do exactly that to punish her for her constant absences, but in the end, he kept his focus on his son and grumbled the rest. "He has acute bronchitis, Deb. That was the result. If I don't want this turning into pneumonia or his HCM taking a turn for the worst, which I don't, I have to keep him home on bed rest for the next few weeks until the virus clears his system on its own."

Dan had deliberately made a point of saying "I have to" instead of "we have to", but Deb refused to give him the satisfaction of picking a fight about it. Instead, she looked at him evenly. "That's it?"

"That's it. This," He gestured with clear disgust to the honey lozenges and over-the-counter painkillers on Lucas's night table as well as the humidifier set up not three feet away, "is apparently the extent of modern medicine when it comes to treating him. Can you believe it?"

Deb tore a page from the Book of Dan and didn't reply. She passed a gentle hand down Lucas's face and worried about how exactly this bout of bronchitis might affect his heart condition but didn't press her husband for answers. Come morning, she would reach out to Lucas's cardiologist herself for the details she sought then call the charity she worked for to postpone her next trip if the doctor's replies were worrisome. Maybe then Dan would get off her back. Maybe then he would see that she cared…