Author's Notes: This is the sequel to It Could Be Sunshine. That means that this story takes place after the Designer Genes stories in the comics. Each chapter will be written from Bobby and Jono's POVs and marked with a B or J respectively in the chapter title in the drop-down bar. (And yes, the perversion of that is intentional.)

Chapter One
I Love You (Prelude to Tragedy)

"The colder your touch, the more it turns me on."
-H.I.M.

A mate of mine once announced after a few rounds at the pub that I 'ave got "th'most fucked-up taste in wimmen." I suppose 'e was right - but that's apparently nothing compared to me dreadful taste in men.

Case in point - one Robert Drake.

Months back I could 'ave told yer that the only reason in the world I let the goofiest X-Man in the history of Xavier's anywhere near me in a non-platonic way was because I needed to. Being wot I am, s'not like I'm fuckin' anyone on a regular basis, yer know? Truth be told, I try 'ard t'keep everyone at an arm's length when I can because I know once they get close they won't be able to handle it. But every so often, the need to be close to someone, anyone, outweighs me good sense.

Which is 'ow I wound up in this bloody mess to start with. Next thing I know he's got all these ideas about 'feelings' floatin' around in his 'ead, and he starts showin' an interest in me as more than just an 'andy (albeit disturbing) fuck on a Sunday afternoon.

And that scared the hell out of me.

It's not because I've got reservations about dating a guy, it's because every time I finally decide to open up a little, things wind up worse off than they were before.

And besides that fact, I could not have thought of a relationship more destined to failure. I mean, Jesus H. Christ, LOOKIT 'im! The man wears Hawaiian shirts with leather pants. Enough said.

And yet...

There's different sides to Bobby, ones 'e doesn't think he lets anyone see. He can be childish, insensitive, exasperatin', obnoxious and downright annoyin', but he can also be loyal, noble and intelligent when 'e feels like it.

Really, he's like a dog. There's always that one person in your circle of friends who's got a dog, and when yer 'ave t'pick them up at their flat or wotever you 'ave to put up with this smelly, attention-whoring mongrel that'll chew your boots to shreds as soon as he's done humpin' your leg. You hate the bloody thing but y'put up wi' it. Then, after a few visits maybe it stops chewing your footwear and does a few stupid tricks that make yer laugh. Soon enough you don't mind the mutt and wind up scratchin' his ears while you wait for yer friend and even tossing a ball for it to chase if they take too fucken long. Eventually they 'ave to go out of town and you disgust yerself by volunteering t'watch the little bastard.

Yeah. Bobby's like that.

So wot I'm gettin' at 'ere izzat the blighter grows on you. He'll come sneakin' inter me room at one in the morning with a pack of Twinkies and plop 'imself on the floor and eat 'em and talk. Just talk. Normally this sorta behaviour would be greeted by a sound boot t'the 'ead by yours truly, but fer some reason it doesn't bother me at all. Kinda nice, really. I can just sit back an' relax while 'e babbles, not usually expectin' much of an answer t'anything 'e says. Sometimes he'll lay down next t'me after consuming those disgusting snacks of 'is and just sort of touch me, in a non-sexual kinda way.

I've never 'ad anyone do that, before.

But he's still a twit.

One Wednesday evenin' I was walking across the grounds, just sorta watching the sky darken towards night. I was heading towards the main entrance when I spotted Worthington an' Stacy just outside.

"Chamber," Worthington said, and I strolled over, figuring he was maybe tryin' t'use me as a distraction from Miss X's amorous advances. "Are you going inside?"

*Yeah. Why?*

"I was just wondering if you could do me a favour." I nodded and he went on, "When you see your boyfriend, could you remind him that we have a meeting early tomorrow morning? Thanks."

My wot?

*My wot?* I asked, shock alone keeping me 'voice' neutral.

Worthington looked at me with this expression that tried t'be blank but wound up betraying a sort of mild amusement. "Bobby," he said, as if explainin' something to a child. "You two are a couple, aren't you?"

I could only stare at 'im. Then Stacy had t'add her two cents...

"Hey Starsmore," she said with a grin, "If you two shack up together, which one you gets to wear the apron and do all the housework?"

Only the fact that she's a woman saved 'er from a broken jaw at that.

*Roit, Excuse me.*

Figurin' it wouldn't be the best idea in the world to blast the living daylights outta me teammates, I instead headed inside the mansion.

*DRAKE!* I shouted as I came through the front door. No answer, but that was no problem. 'Aving spent so much time with Bobby 'as made it very easy fer me t'track him telepathically and I knew within seconds 'e was in the kitchen. Loud-mouthed, bloody twit...

I barged inter the room, focused solely on pulverizing the bastard. Luckily 'e was the only on in there, sittin' at the table with a sandwich and a falsely innocent expression. I put my palms on the table and glared at 'im.

"Hi," he said. "Something bothering you, Jon?"

This half-arsed attempt at formality made me want ter throw him through th'window. *Oi'm goin' ter kill yer,* I snarled.

"Uhm. Okay. Can I finish my sandwich first?" he asked, smiling up at me.

Roit, that's it, I thought, and decked him one. Felt immediately better for it.

"OW! Sonuva-Jono, what the hell?!"

*Bloody cheek,* I replied. Drake can be such a baby sometimes - he was massagin' 'is jaw like it actually hurt, managin' ter make me feel just the smallest bit guilty. Grabbed 'is jaw and took a look at it, just on the off-chance I'd actually damaged it. It was fine, naturally.

"That hurt," he said. Faker.

*Good,* I said shortly an' sighed before sittin' in one of th'chairs at the table. I looked across at 'im, still pretty cross. *I was just outside with Worthington and Stacy,* I told 'im. *She wants ter know which one of us'll be wearin' the apron if we move in together.*

He didn't say anythin' and I growled inwardly. *Warren called you my boyfriend.*

Still 'e didn't say anything an' I resisted th'urge t'deck him again. I was pissed off; couldn't understand why he wasn't.

I was about ready to up and leave 'im sitting there alone when he said, all slow-like and thoughtful, "Well, aren't I?"

Bugger me. If I were a gel (do NOT ponder that too deeply, awwright?) and we were doin' wot it is we do t'gether, then I suppose you would call 'im that. I mean, if we were just fucking it would be fine, right, but… yeah. S'not just fucking, really now is it?

*Aw, fuck,* I said.

"So why'd you punch me?" he asked, all pissy-like.

*I thought we agreed to keep whatever is between us quiet,* I told 'im. An' we had. Nobody's bleedin' business but ours. *Yer know, t'avoid exactly this sort of scenario.*

"Hey, I didn't say a word!" 'e protested. "And honestly, did you really think we could keep it a secret forever?"

Well, yes. Not rationally, mind, but still.

*I was sorta 'oping we could,* I said.

"Oh come on," he said in this jokin' sort of voice he uses when he's not really kidding. "I'm not that embarrassing."

I raised an eyebrow at 'im. *Yes you are.*

'E got up and took 'is dishes t'the sink. I could tell he was upset but I didn't really care. I was pissed off, an' his wounded feelings would just 'ave to take care of themselves, thank yer very much. Swear t'god, the man's as bad as some wimmen I've dated.

Hm. On second thought, no, no he's not. Bobby has yet t'throw crockery at me, after all.

With a mental sigh, I got up and walked closer t'him, stopping about a foot away. He was just standin' there, starin' at the sink or the wall or somethin'. I dunno. I suspect 'e was waiting for an apology. Eventually 'e gave up and turned around, smiling this tight little smile that seems to say that he's about two seconds away from smackin' me one.

I like that.

"God, you're such a shit sometimes," he said.

*Mm.* Well, it's true.

'E laughed. 'E does that a lot - laughs, I mean. Even when the joke's at his expense. Can't understand it, meself. "Jeez. Remind me to thank Warren. No, better yet, remind me to molest you on the kitchen table at the precise moment he comes in for breakfast tomorrow."

Now there's an idea. I 'ave ter admit, the idea of fuckin' on the kitchen table is just so delightfully unsanitary it's appealing.

*Mm,* I said, amused at me own dirty mind. Decided suddenly I was still ticked at 'im enough ter torture 'im a little. Yer know, since the whole incident outside was embarassin'. *Sounds alright,* I said and employed the Secret Weapons.

Yeah, not those, ya bloody pervert. I mean me eyes. For reasons I cannot fathom, people 'ave been fascinated by 'em ever since I can remember. Gayle used ter call em 'intense.' Wotever - all that matters izzat direct eye-contact with Drake plus sexual innuendo equals the man's brain meltin' inter something that resembles runny pudding.

"Fwuh?" he said.

Works every time, didn't I say?

Rolled me shoulders with feigned distraction and flicked a thumb at the rough silver buckle of me belt. Figured anythin' ter draw 'is attention t'me crotch was a good thing in this case. *I,* I said with a deliberate pause for emphasis, *am goin' ter take a shower.* On that note, I turned and 'eaded fer the door.

I can be a right bastard sometimes.

I honestly did plan ter 'ave a shower, but Drake wound up getting 'is motor functions under control quicker than I'd anticipated. 'E caught up t'me before I'd reached the stairs so we went up t'gether. Paused with overdone caution t'make sure nobody was strolling down the hallways.

*Yours, or...?* I asked, kind 'oping he'd say mine since I have a better selection of music we can use t'muffle any noise we might make. Yer 'aven't known pain until you've tried ter 'ave sex while listenin' t'the bloody Beach Boys.

"Hey limey, I thought you wanted a shower?" he said with a grin. Christ, I 'ate when he calls me that. Also, I was not planning on lettin' 'im see me all naked and unwrapped-like. Thanks, but I'd like t'preserve wot little sexual attraction I DO 'ave.

*Yeah, but yer know, I didn't really expect yer t'follow.*

"Come on," he said, tuggin' on me hand like a little kid beggin' to ride the ferris wheel or somethin'. "It's deserted around here today. Nobody'll notice us. Promise. And if somebody DOES hear us, we'll tell everyone it was Warren. Just Warren. With maybe a blow-up doll."

Cute. I let 'im drag me inter the bathroom and shut the door, 'oping that maybe by some miracle of god the reflection I'd find waiting in the mirror would be warped so's t'look like some other bloke.

No such luck. It was still me. Still too pale, still too skinny, an' still missin' vital parts. Still ugly.

Bobby was halfway outta 'is shirt before 'e seemed t'clue in that I did not want t'go through with it.

"What is it?" he asked slowly.

I shrugged. 'Ow am I supposed ter say it out loud, eh?

"Jono, I swear, nobody is going to hear us."

That twit. As if I care - whole damn mansion knows about us anyway, as I'd found out not long ago.

*S'not that,* I admitted, waving a hand at the lightbulbs. I 'ate those fucken things - they bleach every bit o'colour from yer skin. It's like seeing wot you'd look like dead. An' okay, so I'm kinda used ter that, but still. Not exactly wot yer'd call a mood-setter.

"Oh, big deal," Drake said, all flippant about it. "Everyone looks like shit under these things."

Oh, thanks a bloody LOT.

"You know what I mean," he said as if readin' me mind. I looked away, keeping me eyes averted even when 'e put his 'ands on me arms.

"Jonothon," he said quietly. "It's not like I haven't seen you naked before."

*Yeah, in the dark.* Couldn't quite keep the hurt out of me voice, and loathed meself for it. I wasn't always this stupid, mewling sod of tangled-up emotions.

"Not total dark," he said, but I could read in his tone that he knew that was a lie. A beat of silence. ""Huh. Well, okay. Fine." He let go of me, and I wondered if he was maybe goin' ter see sense at last and leave me alone. Instead of 'eading fer the door though, e' went over t'the sink.

*Bobby, wot--?* I asked.

He reached up and unscrewed about 'alf the lightbulbs and put em on the countertop, makin' the room dimmer.

"Better?" he asked.

Yes and no. *Yer coulda just turned em off.*

He shook his 'ead and stepped closer t'me. "Maybe," he said, "I don't want it to be totally dark in here. Maybe I want to get a better look at you." 'E wrapped his arms around me, effectively destroying me plans t'make a run fer it. "Okay?"

Not really.

I just stood there fer a while, lettin' 'im hold me an' thinking over 'is last statement. I want to get a batter look at you. On th'one hand, I was absolutely nauseated by th'thought. On th'other, I was leery of 'is motives - wot am I, a bleedin' scientific curiosity?

Oh, yeah. I am.

And, behind alla this, there was a little part of me that wanted Bobby t'get a clear look. Figgered if 'e could not freak out on me, then maybe I could finally start believin' 'im when he told me that t'him I'm not a monster.

Relaxed a tad. Bobby was still there, hangin' onter me. *Don't stare,* I warned him. I brought one 'and up t'the nape of 'is neck and stroked 'im there.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured.

*Uh-huh.* Sure. Knew 'e probably would anyway but decided it really didn't matter. Ran me 'ands over his shoulders and back before puttin' em on his arse in order t'pull him closer. Noticed with amusement as 'e stuck his hands in me back pockets that 'e was already getting' 'ard. 'E buried his mouth below my ear for a moment before giving up, spittin' hair.

"Crap."

*Casanova you're not,* I told 'im and took my 'ands off him in order to undo the rest of the buttons on 'is shirt. Drake grunted and shrugged t'get 'is shirt off before grabbing me arse again. Got a one-track mind, really.

Pulled 'is 'ands off, feelin' like a ruddy prude, and moved away. Looked down and found Drake hadn't completely gotten 'is shirt off after all - it was 'anging from his bleedin' elbow. I'm startin' t'think it's impossible fer the man to do two things at once.

'E yanked it off and tossed it in a corner. "Better?" he asked.

*Jesus,* I said, trying not t'smile. He's such a plonker… and yet sometimes it's almost endearin'.

'E reached fer me with 'is customary lack of poise - Me Tarzan, You Jono - and I backed up a step. Personally, I prefer NOT t'shower with me clothes hanging off me limbs.

*Boots,* I said and laughed inwardly at the blank expression on 'is face.

"Pardon?"

Pointed down t'me feet and smiled t'meself when he groaned aloud. Absolutely brilliant boots, really, but they've got loadsa buckles that Robert finds a nuisance.

"Oh sweet Jesus, I'll fall asleep before you get those off… Maybe you should just throw me some tissue," 'e said and I smirked.

*Take the rest of yer clothes off and start the bleedin' shower,* I said, sittin' on the lavvy and prying me boots off. Drake was 'appy t'oblige and was stark bollock naked before I'd even gotten down t'me socks.

"Hey," 'e said after startin' the water going. I was in the process of peelin' me sweater off and I wondered wot 'e could possibly want now.

*Wot?*

"Do you mind if the water's a little on the chilly side?"

Bloody stupid question. Why would I care? *Don't matter t'me,* I said. *Lack of sensation, remember?* I don't feel much of anything anymore - and he knows that. Easy t'ferget, I suppose, but if it's brought up it's just another reminder of something I've lost.

Bobby climbed in the shower and I set about getting the rest of me clothes off, trying not t'be angry. It's not 'is fault, after all, and he was just tryin' t'be considerate.

Caught the cheeky bastard peerin' out from behind the shower curtain like a bleedin' pervert. I shooed 'im and he laughed and vanished behind the curtain, takin' the last of me resentment with 'im. It's 'ard t'stay pissed at someone so bloody silly.

Climbed inter the shower after 'im and tried not to look as self-conscious as I felt. I fully expected 'im to gawp at me but 'e didn't - instead he just fixed 'is eyes on mine and smiled.

And that right there is the real reason I can't run away from 'im.

Of course, 'e always ruins the moment.

"Hi," he said in a voice that seemed t'imply light mental retardation. I snorted (telepathically, o'course) and dragged me index finger from the hollow of 'is collarbones down t'just past 'is navel.

Well, that 'ad an effect. He reached forward and pulled me to him with a brutish urgency that was pretty fucken exciting. Ran 'is hands over me arms, shoulders and down my back while he attacked my neck through leather bandages. I felt for the nape of 'is neck again, teasing, before grabbin' 'andfuls of hair and tuggin' while he started grindin' against me. This encouraged him, which 'ad been my intent. Base animal lust was pourin' off of 'im like a palpable thing and that felt just fine.

More than fine, really. Fucken hot, that is.

Was getting' 'ard meself and couldn't keep from rubbin' up against 'im. Bobby was goin' mad, pawin' at me like 'e couldn't wait t'fuck me arse off, and I could feel a growin' urge t'let 'im do just that.

Then 'e kissed me, right where me mouth used ter be.

It felt like... nothing. Not surprising, because nothing's there anymore. And there 'e was, kissing me like 'e could taste lips and saliva and tongue instead of leather. Kissing me like I could feel it. Like it meant something.

Dear god, I woulda given anything to be able t'kiss 'im back.

'E finally noticed wot 'e was doing and pulled away. Me, I couldn't stand ter look at 'im.

"Jono," he said.

I am so sick of pity.

Bobby leaned down, putting his 'ead on me chest like he was listening fer a heartbeat. Sickened and miserable, I went to push him away when 'e sank to 'is knees and dragged 'is tongue across my stomach. It dipped inter my navel and I couldn't stop my hips from tiltin' forward, beggin' him to continue with my body even as me mind tried to tell 'im ter stop.

'E wrapped 'is fingers around me and started jerkin' me off, hard and fast, an' believe me, I could feel that. He stroked at m'balls with one thumb before squeezing them, making me groan. It was getting 'arder to concentrate on filtering wot I was projecting inter Bobby's mind, an when he scratched 'is fingernail roughly over the skin behind me nadgers I think I damn near fried 'is brain with a non-verbal bolt of lust.

Jesus, that man knows 'ow t'suck cock. Seriously, every so often I'm almost glad I can't return the favour because I'd 'ate to wind up bein' second rate, yer know? He's down there on 'is knees, licking at me like a great big bloody cat, and then suckin' me off, every s'often using his bleedin' teeth. Yer wouldn't think 'aving someone's bloody 'amsteads skate over yer dick could be a good thing, but I can testify it is a very fucken good thing indeed.

Coherent thought basically became impossible after that point; I could only thrust and babble, peripherally aware that I was projecting an awful lot. Was also aware in a dim, 'azy sort of way of Bobby's own emotions just on the edge of me consciousness.

*Bobbyharderyerohfuckyeah...*

Realised I was reachin' vinegar strokes - wasn't goin' ter last much longer. It suddenly it occurred t'me that Bobby 'ad a direct line inter me mind and it was quite likely that when I shot me load I'd wind up accidentally lobotomizin' the bloke with an orgasmic telepathic sledgehammer.

Cut off telepathic contact at the last possible second before Bobby brought me off. And oh Jesus it felt good. (Yeah, way ter understate, eh?) Bobby stood up, wipin' at his mouth with the back of 'is 'and lookin' at me with these big blue eyes. I swear 'e swallows every fucken time and for some reason this pleases me t'no end.

I stumbled forward an' put me arms around 'is neck, feeling this weird aching need t'be close to 'im. Bobby hugged me back, the picture of well-intentioned sweet sensitive male until 'e started rubbing 'is cock against me like a dog in 'eat.

Heh. Sweet's awlright but nasty can be a lot more fun, anyway.

I laughed, sensing 'e knew wot 'e was doing and was embarrassed. 'Aving just come like the fucken Kundalini Express, I was deeply relaxed in a way that made it incredibly easy ter tap into Bobby telepathically. S'funny how I seem to 'ave the best control after sex. I should bring that up in training sometime and see if Angel would go fer lettin' Robert and I run off fer quickies prior t'missions.

Laughing still I reached down between us and gripped 'im in one hand. *Mmm,* I murmured, sending with the thought a silky, sexual feeling. Stroked 'im languidly fer a moment before moving t'his balls and flutterin' there til 'e was half-mad. Slipped me 'and back to 'is cock, runnin' me thumb over the head before wrappin' my fingers around the shaft again and squeezing slightly.

Oh my, 'e did enjoy that. Smirking a little at me own evil nature, I started pullin' away.

"Oh come on," Bobby moaned and tried t'keep thrusting inter my 'and. Poor bloke probably thought I was gointer leave 'im in the lurch there. I let go of 'im and shook me head.

*Turn around,* I told 'im. Bobby complied without another word, standing about a foot away from the wall. As I pressed against 'im, he leaned forward slightly and rested 'is forearms against the tiles.

I slid one hand over 'is stomach an' down t'his dick. Wrapped me fingers around the base, m'thumb and index finger pressed against 'is body. I slid me hand up slowly, palm sliding over the 'ead of 'is cock, before reversin' me grip and sliding back down.

At th'same time, I was reachin' fer the soap dish with me other hand and lathering iup as best I could. (Look, mum, I'm multi-tasking!) Got soaped up and slippery and then slowly slid m'finger between Bobby's arse cheeks t'probe gently at the ol' khyber pass. 'E exhaled shakily as I slid me finger inside 'im.

*How's that?* I asked, doing my absolute best t'approximate an oversexed whisper.

Bobby grunted in reply, and I 'ad t'smile. The man never shuts up, really, so if 'e can only grunt atcher yer gorra be doin' somethin' right.

I pressed as close as I could ter 'im considerin' I 'ad one hand on 'is cock and a finger up' is arse, resting me cheek on is shoulder. I wanted t'be close ter 'im, and more importantly I could feel that 'e wanted that too.

As I moved, pace increasing, I concentrated on sending emotions across the telepathic link forged between 'is mind and mine, along with the occasional dirty whisper.

*That's good, innit? Yeah?*

"Yeah," Bobby croaked, and I sped up some more. 'E moaned and I grinned as wickedly as possible fer a man without a mouth.

*Mmm. Bobby...*

Debated slippin' 'im a length, but decided I wasn't really in the mood ter get meself ready fer action again. Besides, it was kinda nice ter just watch Bobby and t'be able to stroke at 'is mind the same way I stroked 'is body. 'E was gasping my name, muscles rigid and wet and beautiful. Cor.

'E came, tryin' t'bite back a shout and mostly failing. I stayed pressed against 'im, removing my finger from 'is nether regions but leaving me 'and wrapped around 'is cock a while longer. Finally 'e straightened up and I let go and moved away, grabbing the soap again.

"Whoo."

*Uh-huh.* Oh, such a way with words we both 'ave.

Bobby turned around, lookin' daffily pleased with 'imself. "You're not really Mr. Talkative, have I ever told you that?" he asked.

*Yeah.*

"Just checking. Pass the shampoo?"

I did so, figgerin' the least I could do before kickin' 'im outta the David Gower was t'let him wash off. He nicked the soap from me with a grin, and I felt almost bad about not lettin' 'im stay.

*Drake,* I said after he'd given 'imself a quick scrub with the soap. *If yer don't mind, I really would like to actually shower now.*

'E looked at me like I'd gone daft. "Jono, I don't know how to tell you this, but you're in the shower."

Bloody joker. *I mean alone.*

"Why?" 'E protested, and I realized 'e really 'ad no intentions of goin' anywhere. "Jesus, Jono, I had your cock in my mouth not fifteen minutes ago. Your fragile English sensibilities could handle that just fine."

Fragile English sensibilities, yet. Shittin'ell.

*Bloody twit,* I muttered and flicked a finger against the bandages coverin' me face. *I do have skin under 'ere y'know,* I told 'im, *And my 'fragile English sensibilities' demand I clean it.*

"Okay," 'e says all 'appy-go-lucky about it. "I'll get your back."

I could only stare at 'im, waitin' fer the punchline.

"I'm serious!" he said, then lowered 'is voice before continuing, "I'd like to. Really. I'll get behind you so I couldn't stare even if I wanted to, okay?"

I was completely gobsmacked, ter say th'least. I sensed 'e honestly wanted ter stay, and not out of morbid curiosity. Just… because.

So, I decided to give 'im a chance.

I sighed, mostly because I figgered it was expected of me. *You try anything comedic...* I said, lettin' it trail off in an unspoken threat.

"Hey, scount's honour," he said and slipped behind me.

I muttered a little t'meself, still in a state of pleasant surprise. He actually wanted ter stay, and didn't seem revolted or uncomfortable in the slightest. Unbelievable.

I reached up and undid the bandages without really thinkin' about it. Me own private nuclear furnace, I call it, and it is hot, so the cold water 'it it with a hiss and steam plumed up everywhere. I sensed Bobby jump behind me and I chuckled, realisin' that 'e probably 'ad no idea wot was goin' on.

*Cold water,* I explained. Newly reminded of me own fundamental strangeness, I abruptly felt self-conscious all over again. I mean, yeah, okay, it's not like Bobby's never seen me unwrapped, but never really under such intimate conditions.

I mean, honestly, when yer eyes travel along naked flesh you expect it t'be smooth, unmarked. Okay, maybe some 'air or pimples or some damn thing. The occasional scar or tattoo. But yer don't expect t'suddenly encounter a gapin' crater spewing psionic fire. On top of that, there's really nasty scarring on wot flesh does remain around it.

It's ugly.

Too late by that point, though, so I reached out past the shower curtain and let me wrappins fall ter the floor, trying me level best t'act casual. Bobby didn't seem t'notice or care; 'e hummed softly and I could 'ear him soapin' up his 'ands. 'E reached out and I couldn't help but stiffen involuntarily when 'e touched me back.

I forced meself t'relax by sayin' "It's Bobby," in me 'ead over and over again. He washed m'back as if it were no big deal, and that very fact made it a huge bleedin' deal, at least ter me.

He handed me the soap without bein' asked - a silent acquiesce of my desire not t'have anybody get near the hole in me. Shite like that makes me want ter act like a bloody nelly and just hug him, because it speaks of this stupidly deep understanding 'e 'as of me.

Then he turns around and morphs back inter Mr. Comedian. Just as I was startin' t'ave these sentimental-type musings, 'e squeezed a buncha shampoo onta me 'ead and started scrubbing madly. I laughed, mostly out of surprise.

Shot a glare at 'im over me shoulder anyway, because really, 'e deserves it. "Dah-link, you look MAHvehlous!" 'e crowed and shoved me forward t'get me 'ead under the shower-spray. Great big bloody idiot.

I squeezed m'eyes shut t'keep the water out of em and felt Drake pat me on the arse before 'e jumped outta the shower. "There's a luv," it seemed ter say, so I made a mental note t'do something 'orrible t'him later.

Heard a muted clatter and Drake cursing cheerfully as I turned the water off. Figgered 'e must 'ave tripped on something, again, and smiled as I stuck my arm out from behind the shower curtain.

*Towel,* I commanded.

Drake 'anded it ter me and 'ad the good sense to turn around while I put me bandages back on. I sat down on the loo, wonderin' absently if I should bother tryin' t'comb me hair. It's not usually worth the trouble.

"Decent?" he asked.

*Uh-huh.*

Bobby turned around and just sort of looked. Not in a mean way, or in a "sweet god, wot is that thing?" sort of way either. I dunno wot 'e was looking at, really, but 'e looked kinda cute.

*Wot?* I asked finally, me curiosity getting' the better of me.

He smiled. Okay, really cute. "Nothing. So, was that--"

There was a sudden poundin' at the bathroom door. I jumped t'me feet and Robert looked like 'e was about ter have 'eart failure.

"Bobby, did you die in there?"

Worthington's voice. Wanker. Saw that Bobby was trying not ter laugh, and recognized that 'I'm about t'do something really stupid' look on 'is face an instant before he unlocked the bathroom door and flung it wide open.

"Warren!" 'e was saying before it 'ad even fully opened. "If you wanted to join us THAT badly you could have just..."

The door opened and I saw that Warren was not alone. Jubilee, of all people, was standing at 'is elbow, and next to her...

"...asked."

Paige Guthrie.

Bugger. ***

Death threats maye be sent to decadentmazohyst@yahoo.ca