Chapter Sixteen

Monday 11:10 AM

"Oh, God, Chris, I am so sorry," Brett said helping the other boy off the floor. "I didn't—I thought you were—I'm so sor—"

Chris cut him off by picking up his hand and turning his head to something that seemed only he could hear.

"Ew," he said to himself and then shouted at the top of his lungs, "Aunt Phoebe!" she heard him yell from his room in a scolding tone.

Brett stood perplexed. He didn't even hear her come in. "What was that—"

But Chris only silenced him with his hand again.

"I can still hear you, you know!" he yelled.

This time Brett stayed quiet, waiting for Chris to give him the go ahead.

"That would be a great idea!" he yelled, and then waited until both of them could be hear the front door close. Chris turned to look at him and gave and apologetic smile.

"I could hear her so..." Chris trailed off sheepishly.

Brett just shrugged it off and tried to take a look at his eye. "I'm sorry. You kind of scared me. You're not supposed to sneak up on people from behind, especially when we come from."

Chris just nodded his head.

"Don't worry about it I'm fine," he insisted. "Do you still want breakfast?" he asked, looking on the broken dishes and scattered food on the floor.

"Yeah, kinda," Brett said sheepishly. "Do you mind?"

Chris just smiled. "Yeah...I mean, no...I mean...Yeah, I can do it."

Chris waved his hand over the broken plates and littered food and, slowly, they rose up and started spinning in a spiral until coming together to look more or less like the dishes he just brought up.

"Show off," muttered Brett, although it was said with no actual fire.

Chris just chuckled. "I've got you're favorites," he said, strangely domestic. "Cheese omelet, bacon, toast, iced mocha—minus the ice and mocha and really just coffee—orange juice, milk, and—if we're really feeling risqué—ham and mayonnaise for the added cholesterol."

"You daredevil you," joked Brett. "But, seriously, you know I'm allergic to oranges."

"I know," Chris smiled. "But, you know I love it so..."

"Are you going to end every other sentence with the word 'so?'"

"Maybe..."

"Well, are you?"

"Possibly..." said Chris seriously before breaking into a smile, "...so..."

Brett just slugged him over the head with the pillow next to him.

"Ow! Ow! My eye!" yelled Chris, doubling over.

Brett's smile dropped and he dropped the pillow to check on Chris.

"Oh, my God, are you okay?"

Chris then tackled Brett onto the bed, pinned him down, and started tickling him.

"Say it!" yelled Chris.

"Never!"

"Say it!"

"No!"

"Say it," Chris said in his mock dangerous tone.

"Okay! Okay! I yield! I yield!" yelled a squirming Brett. Chris raised his arms in the air and started to make cheering noises until Brett hit him over the head with a pillow again.

Sighing and out of breath, Chris looked at the smiling boy underneath him.

"Why d'ya give up so easily?" he asked. "You used to be able to play this game for hours—or, you know, at least for a couple of minutes or something."

Something in Brett's eyes flickered for a moment—something that didn't escape Chris—before he answered. "Well, I'm hungry so..."

Chris smiled to try and keep the levity. "See? I got you started with the 'so' thing now."

Brett just laughed and pushed Chris off him and they began to eat breakfast. The thick tension that used to be in the room died down now to just slightly and both boys ate in peace between their easy banter. It was nice for both of them to return to this used-to-be common dialogue they shared, both just avoiding asking and answering questions about things that led to any amount of the aforementioned tension—it had been a while for anything that wasn't the slightest bit demonic to be happy in the future...well, until...

"Chris," Brett said quietly, suddenly serious. "We still need to talk about—"

"Don't," Chris said, his face falling. "I don't want to think about that right now." Brett's mouth opened in protest, but Chris stopped him before he could continue.

"Besides, I already told the Mom, Aunt Phoebe, and Aunt Paige that you'd wait till later to talk about anything."

"But—"

"Look," said Chris, eyes diverted, voice barely above a whisper. "Can we just wait till later? Please?"

Brett stared at him sullenly but relented.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," he said and Chris looked up again.

"You know, what?" Brett suddenly asked. "I'm still kind of feeling kind of groggy so...would you mind if I..."

"What? Oh...oh, no, no, go ahead..." he said failing to stifle a yawn.

"I'm sorry. I forgot that you wanted to go back to sleep," he said, already starting to get up.

"NO!" Chris yelled, much to his embarrassment. "No, you can stay. I mean...well, we've done it before, right? You know, before the whole...'us'...thing."

"Right," said Brett, nodding nervously. "Right. Just friends...friends sleeping in the same bed. Nothing wrong with that, right?"

"Nope," said Chris just as nervously, climbing in after Brett—mostly cloathed, sans pants—both lying as far away from each other as possible. "Nope. Nothing wrong with that."

"'Night...er...'morning, Chirs," Brett called over his shoulder.

"'Morning, Brett," Chris said over his shouder.

Four hours later, after the sisters' lunch, Phoebe found them sleeping with Brett's resting his head on Chris' chest and Chris' arms wrapping around Brett's waist in a possessive hold, both sleeping combortably in each other's arms.
A/N: This is for all of you who wanted to know what happened with that last crash. Well...that and I was in a happy mood (rarity, I know...)...so...

Chapter Seventeen is written. I just need to tweak it. It's the long awaited meeting about what they're gonna do and why Brett came back.

Hope you liked. Please tell me what you think.

As always...Thank you.