Hey peoples. New story...it's gonna be short, but fun! You'll see pairings later. Slash! YaY! Here goes nothing--

Don't own it. Never owned it. Never will own it.

"M-Marco…" The older man still remembered the day poor little Tim had shown up on his doorstep, battered and bruised, physically and emotionally. His cheeks were tearstained and red; his voice quivery and muffled by sobs. Marco had opened the door and immediately pulled him into a hug: Marco himself was experienced in this particular field knew after a few flashbacks from his own disastrous coming out to his father and it was the only thing that would calm him down.

"Shhh," he comforted the panicked boy, "it's okay…shhh,"

His mother, hearing the ruckus in the kitchen, decided to investigate.

"Marco, what's—oh…" she stopped herself mid-sentence; noticing the crying boy her son was comforting.

"I'm gonna skip dinner, ma…I'll be back down in a few," he said, leading a much calmer Tim upstairs to his own room.

"Tim," Marco shut his bedroom door and locked it, "What happened?" He sat beside the upset boy on his checkered bedspread.

"I d-did it, Marco," he sniffled before letting another tear roll down his cheek, "I t-told him,"

Marco was silent as he rubbed Tim's lower back soothingly.

"I j-just told him the truth: who I am," he looked Marco in the eye, "And do you know what he did? He kicked me out, Marco! Now I have no where to go," he got up and paced the floor, "What am I going to do? Oh, God…I-I…"

"Shhh, calm down," Marco pulled the younger boy down once again, pulling him close and trying to cool him down for the second time in thirty minutes. "As for a place to stay, you're welcome to settle down here for as long as you need to. You are going to have to at least go talk to your dad. It's the only way you'll work through this," he sighed, "I'm glad you came here. It tells me you know that I'm here for you. Whatever, whenever you need me I'm here. You can call me at 3 in the morning and I would be thrilled! I've been through this before, and I know exactly how you feel. Calm down…I'm here, alright?"

Tim sniffled and the smallest smile shone through his tears, "How do you do this Marco? Stay so calm, even through everything you've been through?"

"Well," Marco got up slowly, sauntering towards his desk. "When I was your age, I had my own 'Yoda'. Actually, he was a little more than just a 'Yoda'…" Marco opened a drawer and took a medium-sized framed picture from its depths. He held it for a moment himself before handing it to Tim.

"Wait," Tim looked excitedly at Marco, "This is-"

"Dylan Mikalchuck, forward for the Maple Leafs, yes. He was my Yoda,"

"Wow. So you guys went out?" Tim seemed to be forgetting his own problems, so no matter how hard it was, Marco kept talking.

"Yeah, we did. Then came Eric…." Marco remembered how much it had hurt him to see Dylan with that lame excuse for a man.

"He cheated on you!" Tim jumped up, ready to slug Dylan even if he was an amazing hockey player.

"Yep," Marco sighed once again and put the piece of the past back into the bottom of the drawer where it belonged.

"Why would somebody cheat on you? God, if you're not perfect, I don't know who is," Tim said, moving closer and closer to the still standing Marco.

Old habits returned as a fierce blush rose to Marco's olive cheeks, greeted by a sideways smile. "Oh, c'mon,"

"No, I'm serious," Tim looked down and laughed, "I'm really lucky to have you as my Yoda,"

Marco couldn't take it anymore. He ran a hand up and back down the smaller boy's arm slowly, before placing a hand to cup his cheek. He placed an innocent kiss on Tim's lips and wiped a last tear off his face. "No more tears?" he smiled.

"No more tears," Tim agreed as Marco went to unlock the door. "Thank you, Marco…thank you so much for everything,"

Marco just laughed and remembered. Two years ago he had been the one saying that to a male version of Paige. He shuddered. Disturbing thought.

Like? Good. Now review! Muwah ha ha ha! Ciao--Liz :)