A quick note: In this story Marco hasn't come out yet. What you've seen in the series doesn't really hold up here. Only what I mention in this story is carried over from the episodes basically.

Also: every movie, car, food stuff, and jar of Vegemite is owned by their respective company(ies).

Chapter Eight: Don't Say

"Dear God, this stuff's disgusting!" Marco cried, making a face as he grabbed for a napkin to scrape off his tongue. "How can you eat that?" His spoon clanked against the counter top as it fell out of Marco's grip.

I brought the silver spoon back into the Vegemite jar, twirling it around, and stuck the utensil back into my mouth. "Like this," I say with the metal still in my mouth.

Marco laughs while shaking his head. "You're an odd one. Are all Australian's like that?" he jokes.

"Just me," I reply with a shrug. "We haven't decided on a movie yet or should we just skip that and terrorize the little kids?" I smirk.

This was going to be our first official non official date type thing…an outing in other words.

We're at Dana's house, sitting in the kitchen, and looking through the newspaper for show times. So far we've fought over whether or not a paper towel roll can really soak up a spilt glass. Marco won, it didn't soak up all the water.

I watch Marco think. I've noticed that his head leans to the side slightly, not even a hair, and his eyes twinkle like diamonds as they shift. He picks up the newspaper and dropps it suddenly, causing me to jump.

"'Anything Else'?" He gave me his puppy dog face. I laugh.

"Doesn't seem interesting. What about 'Underworld'?"

"Werewolves and vampires…. How about no?" Marco smirks.

I groan. "'Dickie Roberts: Former Child Star'?"

Marco shakes his head and looks back to the newspaper. "We could rent a movie," he throws out, scanning over the listings. "'Finding Nemo'? 'Cold Creek Manor'?"

"Is 'Cold Creek Manor' even out yet?"I ask.

"Three days ago." Marco raises his eyes to me. "Disney or a thriller?" His lifts his hands into the air, making scale motions.

I look blankly at him, my thinking face on. "Neither. We can rent a movie and watch it here in the safety of this huge, dark, eerie, noise making mansion."

Marco frowns and points a finger at me. "That only happened once! How was I suppose to know that the furnace moaned in a menacing, ghost-like manner?" He's so cute when he does that.

"Let's go to the store then." I get off the stool I'm sitting on and twist the cap shut on the Vegemite jar. I look at Marco, who's sitting there with an awkward look on his face. "'Co?"

He jumps slightly. "Do we really want to go all the way to the store? It's way in town, we're on the outskirts of the outskirts."

"It's not that far. Besides, we need cheese popcorn and more soda," I state, confused with Marco's sudden change of emotion.

"We don't need cheese popcorn."

"Yes, we do. One can't watch a movie without it."

Marco looks around the room. "Dana, she's not—"

"I got my license, remember?" It took me months, but I finally passed Driver's Ed. "It's no big deal, Marco." I grab his arm gently and pull him off his stool.

I hear him huff softly as we begin to walk to the garage. I open the door and flip on the lights.

I never get tired of seeing my car. It's a bright yellow Monte Carlo with black flames on the hood. Yes, the wonders of having a wealthy foster mother. I don't let it go to my head, though. I don't think it ever could. We make our way over to the car and I unlock the driver's side door, unlocking the rest of the car doors when I climb into the driver's seat.

Marco, reluctantly, sits shot gun. If there weren't excuses to slamming car doors, I'd ask him what got his boxers in a bundle. I shake his mood off and start the car, seeing Marco's hand quickly change the radio station when a song he doesn't like blares through the speakers.

I look at two DVDs in my hands.

"It's a tossup between 'House On Haunted Hill' and 'American Beauty.'"

I look at Marco, biting his lip as he stares down at the cases. He seems to have calmed down since we got here, though he was whipping his head around like a paranoid mime being slapped repeatedly.

He picks up 'American Beauty' and puts it back on the rack just as the bell above the main door goes off. I look over, doing that being a force of habit, and see Jimmy walk into the store. Jimmy sees us (the movie racks are near the door) and smiles.

"Hey, guys."

"Hey." I ignore the fact that all the blood in Marco's face leaves for his feet.

Jimmy walks over to us, quickly outstretching an arm to grab a bag of Fritos on a nearby rack. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? We're trying to find a movie," I explain.

"For what?" Jimmy asks, looking at the two of us with a smirk of his face. "A date?"

I open my mouth to say that Jimmy's assumption is correct, but Marco interrupts me.

"No. We're just having a guy's night out. You know. Talk about girls or guys in Cyril's case."

Jimmy laughs. "And why wasn't I invited?"

"We didn't know you'd be around," Marco replies. "Sorry."

"It's all right, man. I'm here now," Jimmy boasts.

I want to slap him.

"No, don't hit your boyfriend, Cyril. That would be wrong."

"Dana isn't home," I speak up. "You've been over there before…."

Jimmy rolls his eyes. "Yeah. The whole 'no more than four people' law and the big brother cameras. I understand. Maybe another time," he volunteers. "Well. I've got shopping to do. See you around."

"Bye."

I grip the DVD case tighter and scoff quietly, walking over to the cashier. I hear the popcorn bag collide with the soda carton as Marco follows me, setting the things down on the glass counter. I remain silent, only to say "Thank you" when I pay for the items and get the movie.

I hand Marco the paper bag and take the lemon-lime soda. When driving back home I ask like a naive little child, "What was that?"

"What was what?" Marco asks back.

"The lie you told Jimmy."

"It wasn't a lie."

"'We're just having a guy's night out. You know. Talk about girls or guys in Cyril's case,'" I spit.

Marco sighs. "Don't get mad, I just didn't know how to tell him. I'm sure you have things you still have to tell people, things you're too uncomfortable to tell them just yet…."