AUTHOR'S NOTE

Thanks again for all your support! I did want to address one review about Clemont's...assumption, and you are absolutely, 100% right. There's a lot more orientations out there than just straight and gay. So to make up for it, Clemont is going to explain (very poorly) in this chapter just how wrong that assumption is. I apologize if anyone felt excluded by the last chapter, or by extension if anyone feels misrepresented in this chapter; that wasn't and isn't my intent ^^

Just so you all know, I actually see Ash as being pansexual in this story - but that was not something I was planning on addressing beyond a choice for him to just not use labels. I myself choose not to use labels, so I thought that would be cool decision, but am also worried that could come off as a cop-out. So if there's anyone that would like some pan representation in this story, I definitely encourage you to reach out so I can try and write it realistically!

Chapter 11
Not Quite An Unwilling Participant!

Bonnie was somewhat surprised at the guilt she felt in deciding to reveal what Ash had told her to Clemont - even though the only reason she had been asking in the first place was because he was too scared to. The guilt was made even worse by her brother apparently not appreciating the effort she had put into finding out if he and Ash even had a chance together. In fact, when she told him the results of her questioning, he had seemed downright upset about it, and upset at her - a strange reaction, she thought, when the answer had seemed to be so obviously in his favor.

"Bonnie!" Clemont sighed in exasperation upon her telling him excitedly, resisting the urge to yell at her. "You promised!"

"I kept my promise!" she insisted, shaking her finger in his face. "I didn't ask Ash if he's gay, I asked him if he's straight! And he said no. Doesn't that mean something to you?"

"It means you bullied him into answering you," he replied sullenly, closing out of the computer program he had been using to make some modifications to Clembot's matrix. He had a feeling this was going to be a long conversation.

"No," Bonnie countered, though she supposed she did force him to answer when he would not have been ready to say something on his own, which could be construed as bullying. "It means he's gay! Isn't that great? Now you can totally tell him how you feel!"

"Bonnie." Clemont gave her as stern a look as he could manage. "Not straight doesn't mean gay. It can mean a lot of things."

"Things? Like what things?" If this was something her brother was making up just to get out of actually being brave about confessing, she was going to be mad.

Clemont sighed, adjusting his glasses. He supposed he shouldn't have been so surprised that she didn't know. He had neglected this side of her education, not wanting to bring on questions that surely would have given away his own secret, and had instead left this and certain other talks to their father to enlighten Bonnie with. Being of an older generation, it was likely Meyer was either not in touch with the LGBTQA+ spectrum, or he was so embarrassingly in touch with it that Bonnie had tuned him out rather than listen to his explanations. Since he had decided he would not tell his father he was gay unless it became necessary, he was not sure which it was, and was not quite sure he wanted to know.

"Well," he fumbled, searching for the best way to inform her, "there are lots of different ways for people to identify themselves...some people are bi - that means they like both men and women - and others find that labeling themselves as pan or queer ends up as a better fit...there's...other orientations, as well..." He was completely determined to not say the word 'sex' at all to her, even as part of another word, but that wasn't making for the most eloquent of explanations. Based on Bonnie's expression, the only thing he was actually teaching her was exactly how uneducated he was on the subject.

"So what?" she asked, looking incredibly bored. "Those all mean he likes men! So go ask him out!"

"Possibly likes men," Clemont mumbled. "It could also mean he's not particularly interested in a romantic relationship - don't give me that look Bonnie, aromanticism is a thing" - he opted to ignore the way her eyes glazed over at the long and unfamiliar word that she probably wouldn't remember an hour from now - "or, the most likely thing, is he just doesn't know. And there's nothing wrong with that," he told her, as she rolled her eyes and heaved a huge sigh at him. "Besides," he added, feeling more than a little disappointed. "Even if he liked men, it doesn't mean he would be interested in me."

"He has to like you!" Bonnie cried, sticking her lower lip out as far as it would go. "You two are perfect for each other!"

Clemont gave her a sad smile, and ruffled her hair, to her displeasure. "It doesn't really work like that, Bonnie. Besides, what do you expect me to do? Tell him I know that he...probably isn't straight...and ask him if that means he might like me?" It sounded ridiculous even to him, and he vowed that if he ever did get the nerve to ask Ash anything, he was not going to preface it with that.

"Don't do it like that," she said quietly, the guilt creeping into her voice.

Clemont shot her a suspicious look. "Oh no, Bonnie, if he told you this in confidence..."

"I'm sorry!" she burst out. "He told me not to tell anyone! But...but I had to tell you!" she pleaded with him, as he closed his eyes and tried to fight off the migraine he felt heading his direction, wondering where he had gone so wrong in raising her. "You're not anyone, you're my brother!"

Clemont slumped forward in defeat. "I have no idea if you're trying to say that I'm not just anyone, in which case your sentence structure is incorrect on multiple counts, or if you're literally trying to tell me that I'm not anyone...which frankly seems unnecessarily hurtful."

"What's the difference?" Bonnie asked, and Clemont groaned, his head dropping down to rest on his desk.

"Just go..." he told her, not sure he could handle any more of her wild assumptions. "And don't tell anyone else about this! It's bad enough you told me!"

"I promise," she said, crossing her fingers again as she did so.

This ended up being another promise she would break, since she felt she had more than enough information at this point that was worth calling Todd with. As someone that she strongly felt was a friend and understood her better than her family did, surely he would be pleased with what she had found out. And so she called him later that day, checking first to make sure that she was the only one in the house, aside from Dedenne, and Clembot, who lived on the lower levels where the gym was housed. Unfortunately, he did not seem any happier about it than Clemont had been.

"You did not seriously ask him that," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, I admire your investigative inclinations, really. But you should only resort to direct questions with ambiguous answers when there's no other option. You're looking for ambiguous questions, with hopefully a direct answer."

"How do you know there were other options?" Bonnie replied indignantly. "Maybe I did everything I could!"

"Because you just told me everything," Todd said, shaking his head. "Also an amateur mistake, by the way! You never want to give out all the information you have - you should always be able to pull out another fact if you need it. It makes you seem invaluable. But more importantly, if you make a promise, you need to work within those bounds. A reporter never breaks his word unless to not do so would prove to be a danger to themselves or others...or there's a big paycheck waiting on the news you have," he added thoughtfully.

"But how would you know what happened if I didn't tell you?" Bonnie stamped her foot angrily on the ground. First Clemont, now Todd. No one was making sense to her today.

"Easy," Todd said, tapping the tip of his nose. "I would infer it."

"Infer?' Bonnie asked, wrinkling her nose. "That sounds like a lot of work."

"Not at all! Tell me, when Ash shared this news with you, he didn't tell you that he liked Clemont, did he? Err...did he?" he decided to double-check. "Because if he did, I missed that, and we need to go back a couple steps so you can ignore all the advice I'm giving you."

Bonnie giggled, and Todd grinned in response. "No, of course he didn't say that!"

"Right." Todd nodded knowingly. "You just inferred it. That's like guessing, except when you're right." He knew that was an over-simplification of the concept, but he figured it would do for now.

Bonnie nodded slowly, smiling widely. "There's just one thing I don't understand, Todd." Her voice was just a pitch higher than usual, and for some reason that made him feel a bit nervous. "This doesn't really seem to be news to you. So how did you know all this before me?"

She was very patient in waiting for an answer. Todd sighed, drummed his fingers on the dial pad of the phone in front of him, swung his head from side to side, and looked down disinterestedly at the floor. When he looked up again, Bonnie was still leaned in towards the phone's camera, batting her eyes at him. "Take your time," she told him sweetly. "I have all day."

"I have more respect for people's secrets than you do," he muttered, looking rather upset. "As a matter of fact, I inferred something myself." By the rules of his made-up definition, he had not, technically, inferred it. But Bonnie had given him the closest thing to confirmation he was likely to get, at least for now. "I inferred that Ash is in love with Clemont. And that Clemont is also in love with him."

Bonnie's eyes grew wide, and she bounced up and down with excitement. "Really? Yay! We just have to get them together!"

"I agree," Todd said with a smirk. "But!" He raised a cautious finger. "We need to be careful about how we do it."

"But why?" Bonnie whined. "Can't we just tell them?"

Todd shook his head, and carefully placed his hands together in front of him, with just the tips of his fingers touching. "Think for just a minute, Bonnie. Clemont has had these feelings for a while, yes? But he hasn't mentioned them yet, which means he's probably decided Ash could never have feelings for him. Telling him that he does won't make him believe it - and in fact, I think he'd resent you if you tried to do so. So our job is to encourage him to tell Ash how he feels. Failing that, we can always hope that Ash decides to tell him - and that Clemont doesn't think he's lying to him out of pity."

"Then what about Ash?" she pressed. "Can we at least tell him? Pleeeaaase?"

Todd frowned at her. "We can't do that either. I could be wrong about this, but it seems like Ash hasn't quite figured out his feelings yet. Do you like being told how you feel?" Bonnie shook her head. "Exactly. If we say anything, it might seem like we're pressuring him to make up his mind, which could have the opposite effect we want. It could even make him determined to not have feelings for Clemont. If Clemont confesses to him, he'll probably go with his first instinct if he hasn't made a decision yet. But even if that doesn't happen, if he spends more time with him he'll likely realize his feelings. And we both know Ash - he'll do something about it eventually."

"Okay, okay." Bonnie stuck her lips out in the biggest pout she could manage, and Todd bit back a laugh. "I promise I won't tell them. Yet," she whispered under her breath, as she made to hang up the phone.

"Wait!" Todd said, holding up his hand. "We're not done here yet."

"We're not?" Bonnie asked, tilting her head. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure, and by the way I heard that yet," Todd said. "You can't go around making empty promises to people, Bonnie! It's really disrespectful."

Bonnie hung her head in shame. The guilt had crept back, and she hated the way it made her feel. "It wasn't an empty promise..." she mumbled.

"I don't care what you call it," he said shortly. His tone was stern, yet forgiving, and Bonnie had some hope that he wasn't actually mad at her. "Two people trusted you enough to tell you secrets, and now you're going around sharing them with someone they probably would prefer didn't know about it. I can't condone that kind of behavior, and you should have more respect for your friends and family than that. But," he said, with a smirk. "Since you were in a sharing mood anyway, thanks for thinking of me. Much appreciated." He tipped an imaginary hat in her direction, and Bonnie smiled.

"Now," he said, his voice taking on a tone of authority again. "I know your heart was in the right place, but this is important: you can't tell anyone else. Not a soul. I mean it!"

He was right, and Bonnie knew it. She shuffled from side to side, frowning. "Should I apologize to them? For telling you?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Hell no," Todd said, and to Bonnie's relief, he laughed. "No harm was done, this time. I'm certainly not going to say anything, and what they don't know won't hurt them. You'll just make things worse if you say anything to them. Just...don't tell Serena, or any of Clemont's challengers, or..." he paused as he tried to think of who else Bonnie might interact with on a daily basis, but his thoughts were interrupted by a small gasp.

"Serena," she murmured. She had nearly forgotten. Serena hadn't actually told her that she liked Ash, but it was painfully obvious. He was her inspiration for every performance, her motivation in everything that she did. She was always staring at him, always talking to him, always hoping he would see her as more than a friend. Should Bonnie encourage her to drop her crush, to find someone else?

"No," Todd said sternly. "And don't tell me anything else either!" he warned, as Bonnie opened her mouth to say something. This, too, was something he could infer.

Bonnie hated being bound by rules, especially ones set upon her by other people. She found it easy to ignore things that Clemont asked of her - after all, he didn't know what was best for himself, much less for her, and breaking his rules helped them both more often than not. But Todd was smart and talented, and she assumed he had much more experience at keeping quiet and making things happen the way he wanted than she did. So she was inclined to listen to him - even if it did make every bone in her body ache with an effort to hold in the information that she wanted so badly to share.

That was not to say that she didn't do everything she could to push her brother into his happily ever after. She made sure they always sat next to each other on the couch, at the table, even on the floor as Clemont worked on his inventions. She would whisper to Ash almost daily about how lonely Clemont looked and how much he would value his company, even as she told Clemont that every minute together had been a wasted opportunity, and that he needed to get it together and just confess.

She should have felt bad about how mean she was being to her brother, but it was unavoidable. He never listened to reason. She knew he would have to nearly break before he could gather enough courage to tell Ash how he felt. Talking to him in a gentle tone of voice and being understanding only meant it would take him that much longer to do anything about it. All she was doing was helping him get there faster. Once they were together, the healing process could begin.

It was almost funny, she reflected, how just as she was thinking of how she would heal her brother from her harsh words, Ash walked in with his right hand wrapped in his jacket, Pikachu perched precariously on his shoulder. "Idiot," he complained in response to Clemont and Bonnie's concerned looks, tapping his head with his good hand. He knew better than this. "I was working with a Rapidash, and didn't think before touching it. Ouch," he said as he moved his hand slightly, wincing.

Clemont jumped up, rushing over to him. Having more medical knowledge than anyone else in the house, he was always the first to take charge in situations like this. "How bad is it?" he asked, hovering nervously over his crush.

"Not bad," Ash said cheerfully, wincing again. "I ate a rawst berry. It helped a little."

"Ash," Clemont scolded, carefully unwrapping his jacket. "You're not supposed to eat it! You're supposed to rub the juices on your skin. It works better that way."

"Oh," Ash said, sounding mildly embarrassed. He closed his eyes as his hand came into view; red and raw where the flames had touched him. "It's fine," he said, waving away Clemont's concerned gasp. "I'll be okay in a day or two." He was a firm believer in suffering through pain. After all, what didn't kill him would just make him stronger. This wasn't a belief Clemont shared, however.

"I'll be right back," he said, running to grab his first aid kit. He didn't understand why Ash was always so reckless, and why he always insisted that he was fine even when he wasn't. Even as he returned with the proper supplies, he could see Ash telling Bonnie something, probably denying that he needed any medical care whatsoever.

"Just let him help you," Bonnie was insisting, gesturing at the injury. "It looks bad!"

"It's going to heal!" Ash insisted, holding his hand away from her somewhat protectively. But by holding it away from Bonnie, he was holding it closer to Clemont, and he reached out and took Ash by the wrist before he could do more than shout a startled "Hey!"

"Hold still," he told Ash, gritting his teeth. He squeezed a small amount of rawst berry paste onto his injured hand, carefully rubbing it into the burn. Initially tense, Ash relaxed as the paste soaked into his skin, easing the pain he had felt.

"Wow, Clemont. That feels a lot better." He smiled, and tried to pull his hand away. The gentle way in which Clemont had massaged his hand was a reminder to Ash just how strong his feelings had gotten over the past several days, and the thoughts that tended to go along with that were ones he would strongly prefer to explore in private,

"Not so fast," Clemont said, whipping out a pile of bandages. "You're just going to hurt yourself again if we don't fix you up." Ash sighed as the bandages wound around him, starting at his wrist, and continuing midway up his fingers. He had not wanted to appear so obviously injured, but typically he wore gloves that covered almost the same area, and supposed it was really no different than that. However, unlike his gloves, the bandages were wrapped tight, and they restricted the overall movements of his hand and fingers.

"Come on," he complained, attempting to flex his hand. "I can't even move it!"

"Which means you'll avoid further injury," Clemont pointed out, sounding somewhat proud of himself for a job well done. "Trust me, you'll thank me later."

Unfortunately, Ash did not feel much like thanking him, as throughout the day he attempted a variety of things using only his left hand. Releasing Greninja from his Pokeball was manageable, as was turning the doorknob to access his bedroom. But he had struggled to open a bottle of water, and as for using the bathroom...well, he was just glad he hadn't needed to go yet. His belt, so easy for him to put on that morning, now seemed like a challenge he was not sure he could face without some assistance. But surprisingly, one of the more difficult things for him to do was eat dinner.

"Here, let me help you with that," Clemont said. Watching Ash try and eat soup with a thick bandage around his hand was almost painful. He would have gladly given permission for Ash to eat the impolite way, picking up his bowl and simply drinking it, but he did not trust Ash to not drop the hot soup all over himself and cause an even worse burn, in a more difficult place to treat.

"It's fine, I got this." Ash waved his good hand in Clemont's direction, attempting to stick the soup spoon somewhere into his bandages to make up for his lack of grip. It reminded Clemont very strongly of the first time Ash had made him eat with chopsticks, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out how to hold them.

"Okay," Clemont said, returning to his own soup. He was glad that Serena had decided to attend an evening fashion show, and was not eating with them tonight - she would not have taken no for an answer if she was there, and most likely would have tried to feed Ash herself no matter how much he protested. Unfortunately, Bonnie was there, and she delicately coughed as his spoon was halfway to his mouth. He looked over the table at her, his nervous eyes meeting her determined ones. She tossed her head a little towards Ash, and gave him an almost evil smile. Showtime, her expression seemed to say.

His mind slowly filling with dread, he pushed his chair back and stood up, coming to stand over Ash. "Actually, I insist." He knelt down next to him, and put his shaking hand over Ash's bandaged one, holding onto it while he removed the soup spoon from the wrappings. He dipped the spoon into the soup, and held it up to Ash's mouth, all while blushing wildly. Soup had seemed like such a good idea when he was making it; it seemed to carry a worldwide tradition with it of curing a variety of ailments. But now, it seemed like a bad idea, and he wished he had made something a little easier to eat.

"Hey, I still have one good hand left!" Ash didn't take kindly to trying to be fed, especially with Clemont's unstable grip causing the soup to splash around dangerously on the spoon, and scooted as far back in his chair as he could while looking cross-eyed at the spoon.

"Then eat with your other hand," Bonnie chirped, looking at Ash with an oh-so-sweet smile. He glared at her, taking the spoon in his left hand.

"Sure, no problem!" He tackled the soup with confidence, despite his experiments from earlier proving he was not so great with his left hand. But that confidence faded as he aimed and missed his mouth entirely, hitting his cheek and splashing hot soup on his chest.

"Oops, I guess you'll need a new shirt!" Bonnie giggled, causing both boys to glare at her. "Good thing my big brother is here to help you!" She got up from the table, skipping away gleefully. "By the way Clemont, once you're done here I want you to read me a bedtime story. Don't be too late, 'kay?"

"Okay," Clemont grumbled, waiting until he heard her run up the stairs to hand Ash a napkin and go back to his own chair.

"What is she up to?" Ash asked suspiciously, dabbing at his soup stained t-shirt with the napkin. "Clemont, do you know?" He was beginning to grow very suspicious over her antics, which were getting more and more noticeable every day.

"Huh? No, not a clue," he answered, pushing his glasses further up his nose nervously. They caught the kitchen light, flashing for a moment before returning to normal.

"You don't have to stay here, you know," Ash told him, setting the napkin down and tackling the soup again, going back to using his bandaged hand. "I think I can manage."

"I'm not actually done eating yet," Clemont pointed out, looking down at his almost-empty soup bowl. Besides, he wanted to stay for as long as possible. The only thing waiting for him upstairs was his overly manipulative sister, after all. "Hey, Ash?" He asked, after a moment's hesitation.

"Yeah?" Ash said, now shoveling soup into his mouth at an alarming rate. Clemont was surprised to see he had gone back to balancing the spoon in between his bandages, but that he was using the unbandaged tips of his fingers to hold it steady.

"That's clever," he said, forgetting what he had been going to ask.

"It's kind of like eating with chopsticks," Ash told him, and Clemont wondered if he should mention he had the same thought only a few minutes ago. With a small smile, he resumed eating. He loved it when Ash and him were on the same wavelength. It made him feel closer to him every time it happened.

"I love spending time with you," he said, before he even realized what he was saying. The clatter of metal on porcelain as Ash dropped his spoon in surprise jarred him back to reality, and he felt his face heat up. "I-I mean, I..."

"I love spending time with you, too." Ash seemed to have recovered from his initial shock, and he leaned towards Clemont with an unreadable expression on his face. "Maybe we..." he withdrew suddenly, shaking his head. He must have been going crazy - there was no way he could ask Clemont on a date.

"What?" Clemont asked, looking almost sick with hope as he stared at Ash.

"Uh, maybe we should turn in early tonight," Ash said, laughing nervously. "I'm kind of tired."

"Oh." Clemont took a deep breath, looking away for just a moment to collect himself. "Are you going to need help with that?" he gestured towards the soup-stained shirt that Ash still wore.

"I don't think so," he said, looking down and stretching the fabric out to get a better look at it. "But…" his eyes traveled a bit farther down. There was no way he could ask for help with that. He was just going to have to figure out how to do it with one hand, or maybe he could partially unwrap his bandages just enough to be able to flex the fingers on his right hand again.

Out of the two of them, Clemont was far more perceptive, and though he himself trended towards wearing either a zippered jumpsuit or sweatpants with an elastic band, he was still familiar with overly complex belt buckles and stiff buttons on jeans. He really did not want to volunteer to help Ash undo his pants - mostly because of exactly how willing he would be to do so under different circumstances - but if he truly was unable to accomplish it himself, the only other person in the house to help him would be Bonnie, and that was inappropriate on too many levels. He supposed there was always Clembot, but most people were not as trusting of machinery as he was, and he was sure Ash would prefer a human touch near that area.

"Um...i-if you need help..." he stuttered awkwardly, not sure where exactly he was going with that.

"No, no!" Ash waved his hands at Clemont with a slight frown. "I'll figure it out. Don't worry about it."

"Okay," Clemont said, feeling very relieved. "If that changes, let me know."

"Thanks, Clemont." Ash said, standing up and smiling. "You're a good friend."

It was a beautiful night, one of the most beautiful Ash had ever experienced. Moonlight streamed through the windows, bathing their shared room in a pale glow, and he could hear the gentle patter of late summer rain outside. But something seemed off. He was sure when he had fallen asleep, there had been spare machine parts and rejected diagrams strewn about the room, but now the room seemed completely free of clutter. And he was also quite sure Clemont had not been next to him.

He tried to sit up and ask what was going on, but his actions didn't seem his own. He reached out, tangling his hands in Clemont's hair, and pulled him into a passionate kiss that left them both breathless. In one swift motion, he had pulled him on top of him, where he proceeded to explore him with curious hands.

"Ash," Clemont moaned, his voice sounding far away even though their bodies were pressed tightly together. "Please..."

Ash gave a somewhat mumbled response, his lips otherwise occupied on Clemont's body. He was enjoying the way Clemont's breath hitched every time he ran his tongue over his skin; how his body rocked against his when Ash grabbed his butt.

"Ash..." he repeated, his hands pulling desperately at Ash's shoulders. "Please...wake up!"

With a jolt, Ash awoke from his dream, gripping his blanket around him as he shot forward. He could feel the characteristic stickiness of sweat as he shook his hair out of his eyes.

"I'm sorry to wake you up," a nervous voice wavered from the side of the bed. "But you seemed to be, um...moaning...I figured you must be having a terrible nightmare."

Not quite, Ash thought to himself as he glanced at Clemont. His hands had not touched him in the thralls of passion; rather it had been an attempt to shake him awake - and the voice he had heard, so loving and eager, was nothing more than panic on his behalf.

"Ash?" Clemont inquired again, noticing a grimace appear on his face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ash told him, after a pause. It wasn't Clemont's fault that his brain had betrayed him, after all. "I'm sorry to have worried you. Go back to sleep."

To his horror, though, Clemont did not go back to bed, but instead took a seat next to him. Ash hurriedly flipped over to face the wall, all too aware of the problem he was now having; a problem that was sinking in more and more as his brain was shaking off the fog of sleep.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Clemont asked, his hand coming to rest on Ash's shoulder.

"No!" Ash cried out in alarm, shaking off his friend's hand. "Please, Clemont, I'm tired and I just want to go back to bed." He faked a yawn, stretching his arms up and out as he chanced a glance behind him. Wait...he heard me moaning? His brain had only just woken up enough to process that.

"Are you in pain?" He was not inclined to buy Ash's excuse of being tired a second time in the same night. "Is it your hand? Is it hurting? I can get you some pain meds -"

"Go away, Clemont." If he got much closer, he would realize Ash wasn't moaning because of a nightmare or from pain, but because of a particularly sexy dream - and from there, he might be able to figure out it had been about him.

Thankfully, Clemont's mind didn't seem to work that way.

"If you change your mind, let me know." He seemed almost hurt by Ash's insistence, and his hands gripped the edge of the bed. Then, in one fluid motion, he stood up, clenching his fists at his side, a determined but forced smile appearing on his face. "I'll be up in my workshop."

Ash breathed a sigh of relief as Clemont left the room, shutting the door softly behind him, throwing the covers off of him. They felt wet and uncomfortable, and as Ash stared down at himself, he felt his face turn a violent shade of red.

Through his weeks of watching Clemont through contemplative eyes, he had definitely admitted to himself that he had a bit of a crush on his friend. But a simple crush, even one as strong as his seemed to be, came nothing close to the infatuation he had felt in his dream. And there was no way he was going to be able to ignore feelings that intense.

I can't believe this, he thought, even as he reached down to stroke himself. Crush or not, Clemont was his friend, and deserved better than to simply be objectified. But his body's desire won out over any logical thoughts he might have been capable of earlier in the evening, and he closed his eyes only be to be met with images of the blond. Clemont holding his hand and smiling at him. Clemont blushing while leaning in to wrap him in a tight hug. Clemont down on his knees, taking him in all the way...he shuddered against the pull of sweet release, and in the aftermath, found he could think only one word: Fuck.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I know that it's wrong, but I love Todd's definition of the word infer and I'm going to use it as often as I possibly can now. Anyway, consider this chapter a kind of...test? If you guys liked it, I can try and spin things more in that direction (which will eventually result in a rating change, though we're still some time away from that). If not, uh, we'll just try and forget that ever happened, and proceed onward.

Stay tuned for Chapter 12, and thank you for reading / following / favoriting / reviewing!