Hello, few people who are reading this wonderful story.I am the forgotten half of Schwartzibrow, the half that isn't on vacation and can therefore update. There's not much more of this story left, so keep with it. From this point on it's after what happened in the original Flamin'.


I didn't say anything.

Max is coming head first out of the closet, and I can't even open my mouth to say anything. Not even "Congratulations!" or "Welcome to the dark side!"

But if it's any consolation, I don't think his father can think of much to say either. "Wha---What?" he stumbled, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"You heard me," Max stammered. "Michael's...Michael's my boyfriend. And you can't talk to him like that. I won't let you."

Oh, sweet Lord. Oh, Holy Saviour! Never have I heard such beautiful words muttered (though not very strongly) from such a beautiful mouth. If it wasn't for the fact that Mr. Broderick looks like he's about to blow a gasket any second, I'd take that beautiful mouth and cover it with my own. But now would so not be the appropriate time for that.

To my utter surprise, Mr. Broderick sighed calmly. "Max, you're clearly not thinking clearly. It's the middle of the night, you're obviously still half asleep. Go back to bed while I escort your friend to the door." He grabbed my arm tightly and started towards the door.

Damn, just when I thought Max had the upper hand. Now he's going to back down and chalk it up to lack of sleep like his dad's suggesting. My knight in shining armour (or rather, my knight in Power Ranger boxer shorts) is no more.

"No."

Just like that. No.

...And he's back! Actually, he never went anywhere. I should never have doubted him!

"Maxie, come on now. You can't tell me that you actually associate with people like this. That you..." He raised his thick eyebrows suggestively, not letting go of the power grip he has on my arm even just a little bit.

"That I'm, what, dad? That I AM one of those people? What people do you mean anyway? Michael is one of the nicest, most caring people I've ever met, and I'm still getting to know him. If that's the type of person you're referring to me associating with then I fail to see where your problem is."

"You know damn well where my problem is!" he finally barked, letting go of my arm roughly. "So don't be so darn smart about it all!"

"Dad," Max said calmly, emploring the soothing tone he used on me last week when I fell face first into my locker. "Why is this such a surprise to you?"

Mr. Broderick didn't reply. He simply looked away from his son, with sadness in his eyes.

"I know it's not a surprise for you to learn this, is it? Remember my French tutor, Dan, last year? Well, he wasn't my French tutor."

Oh, but I bet he taught him SOME French things. And I'm not just talking about toast.

"And I think you knew that," Max added, looking into his dad's face, daring him to look back.

After a painful minute, he did look back. And he wasn't wearing the same angry must-kill-Michael expression he was wearing just moments before. Is this the kind of situation where I should walk away? Or at least try not to listen?

Only how can I not listen when my boyfriend is saying such wonderful things?

I mean, sure, he's mentioned Dan, but I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be grateful for that name to come up in conversation.

Mr. Brodericks gaze shifted and settled on me.

And I'm not going to lie and say that I didn't think of jumping out of the window right there and then. But I held my ground. Max's hand still in mine helped a lot. Though I'm sure the amount of sweat on it is completely disgusting him right now.

"We'll talk about this in the morning," he said gruffly to Max.

"And Michael?" he asked, the tone in his voice showing his excitement at having stood up to his father.

"Can stay on the couch for now. But I want you gone first thing in the morning, boy. I need some time with my son alone."

I gulped and nodded.

Mr. Broderick stood guard at the living room door while Max grabbed me a blanket and set up the couch for me. There wasn't even chance for a thank you kiss with those hawk eyes watching.

- - -

I woke up the next morning because a pair of lips were pressed against my forehead. Which, I must say, is much better than what I'd been expecting: Mr. Brodericks foot in my face.

"Good morning," I whispered, smiling up at him.

"God, Michael, can you believe I did that last night? I couldn't sleep because I was afraid I'd wake up and find out it hadn't actually happened. But it did. I stood up to him and I told him the truth...Well, basically."

"I know," I said. "I'm so proud of you."

He grinned, revealing his perfect pearly whites. "Thanks. But now he wants to talk to me this morning. I don't even want to think about what's going to happen."

"You'll be fine," I assured him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it supportively. "I have complete faith in you after last night."

"Yeah, but you helped last night."

How? I stood there like a stunned mullet. "I didn't exactly do anything. It was all you."

"You were there though. That helped."

"Well then," I told him, sitting up. "I'll be there in spirit then today. You won't be alone."

"Thanks."

"But now I'd better go. I don't fancy a run in with your dad so early."

I jumped up, threw on my jeans and shirt that Max had brought out of his room for me, and ran out the door before the sleeping beast woke.