Author's Note: You know what's really annoying? Your family taking matters that are pretty important to you, and turning them into a joke. Thanks :) Sorry, just venting here.

As soon as Marco had the baby, Dylan was going back. Marco didn't care if that was acceptable or not, but that's the way it was going to be. Dylan didn't exactly know this yet…but that didn't matter either. Marco was not going to be resented by Dylan for the rest of his life for holding him back.

Since Marco's mind was made up that Dylan was going to be leaving in a few months, he decided to take advantage of his boyfriend being there while he still could.

"My feet," said Marco, lying down on the couch, stretching his legs onto his boyfriend's lap, "are killing me." He pouted as cutely as he could possibly manage.

Dylan was quickly getting used to his constant aches. After being home for a week, he found he really had nothing more to do with himself than help Marco. Another reason why Marco knew he had to go back…he was lost without hockey.

Dylan absentmindedly rubbed Marco's feet while frequently glancing at the television. He sighed.

"Bored, honey?" Marco asked.

Dylan nodded, looking down at his hands. "It's fine." He smiled. "It's better than being in pain," he admitted.

Marco had to agree with that, but he reached out his hand to the other side of the couch for one of Dylan's. "If and when the baby is born, you'll go back, baby…they need you."

Dylan smiled sadly. "Not if—when. You will have this baby," he said surely. "As for me going back…well, we'll see."

At least, he didn't turn the offer down. "I hate going to school," said Marco, bringing up what Dylan thought was an odd topic, especially on a Saturday. "I mean, I feel like everyone is watching me get fat," he spat, irritated.

Dylan tried not to laugh, but he knew a smile slipped onto his face.

"You think it's funny?" Marco asked angrily. "It is not funny, Dylan!"

"Okay, okay," said Dylan, holding his hands up in the air. "It's not funny."

Marco glared. "Like you mean that," he said, taking his feet out of Dylan's lap to pull his knees up to his chest.

Dylan sighed. "I do," he assured him, moving over to his side of the couch, placing his hand on Marco's shoulder.

"You haven't yet told me I'm not getting fat," said Marco, sulking.

"Was just about to," said Dylan, taking his hand off Marco's shoulder. "You're not getting fat."

"Well, if I'm not, I will!" he said, groaning as he put his head in between his knees.

"I love you," said Dylan, hoping he might make him feel better. He took one of Marco's hands, kissing it gently. "I love you," he repeated.

"I know," Marco mumbled, raising his head. "You really love me?"

Dylan raised his eyebrow, confused. "Why…?" he asked, knowing his boyfriend was up to something.

"Okay, remember that little ice-cream shop down the block that I'm completely in love with?" he said eagerly.

"Yes…" said Dylan, not matching the excited tone that his boyfriend had. He was definitely not in the mood to get up and go there. "It's not exactly down the block…"

"Well, I'm just dying for some of their ice-cream right now," he said, more than hinting.

"Are you?" asked Dylan, running his hand through his hair.

Marco nodded, smiling dreamily at the thought. "If you got me some, I would completely forgive you for calling me fat before."

Dylan turned quickly to look back at him. "I never—"

"Thank you so much, Dylan!" exclaimed Marco, hugging him tightly.

Dylan sighed. Marco knew he was going to get what he wanted with that smile. "Yeah, yeah, flavor?"

"Something chocolate? A loooot of it," he giggled happily. "I love you!"

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh," he said, smiling despite his annoyance.

"Listen, Marco," said Dylan, holding up his index finger as he got up from the house, "I am taking my cell phone. If you change your mind, don't wait until I get home. Okay?"

Marco laughed. "Dylan, I want chocolate. You think I don't know what I want?" he asked, cocking his head to one side. "I—"

"Kidding, of course," Dylan interrupted. "Just…call if you happen to realize you want something better. That's all."

Dylan grabbed his sneakers from off the floor, tying them up while he also took his jacket from off the coat rack. "You do want chocolate, yes?"

"Yes," said Marco, shaking his head. "Am I speaking Italian?"

Dylan left, closing the door loudly behind him, only hoping that Marco would remember this very conversation when he decided he wanted something else.

"Hey, Marco," said Ellie, conveniently walking into the living room a moment or two after Dylan left. "Where's lover boy?"

She plopped down next to him on the couch, flipping the television off, enabling her to read again. "He went to get me ice-cream," he said, laying down the other way so as not to end up hanging over her shoulder.

"That was nice of him," she commented, opening her book.

Marco nodded, getting off the couch. He went upstairs to his bedroom, finding the box of chocolate Dylan had bought him, satisfying his craving for the moment. Did he say chocolate ice-cream to Dylan? He was slowly losing his interest in that flavor.

On Marco's way out of his bedroom, he ran into Paige in the hallway, smiling brightly as ever. "Hey, hon," she said, walking past him to go downstairs.

"Hey, Paige," he said, following her back down to where he'd come from. "I have to stop going up there. My feet are going to fall off," he complained, sitting down at the stool for the counter.

"Aww, poor Marco," said Paige sympathetically, walking around the kitchen. "Your headache gone?" she asked.

Paige and Marco, conversation forgotten, both turned to stare at Ellie as she picked up the lamp that had crashed down. "I'm so sorry," she said, checking if it had been broken.

"It was gone," said Marco, rolling his eyes.

Paige brushed her hand across his arm lightly, just letting him know that, no matter what happened, she was going to be there…through everything he was going to have to deal with.

"I'm back," called Dylan. Ellie pointed in the direction of the kitchen, telling him that's where Marco was.

"So…here," said Dylan, giving him his chocolate ice-cream.

"I've never met a better looking guy in my life," said Marco, shrugging.

"You don't want chocolate anymore," said Dylan. "Do you?"

Marco bit his lip, shaking his head meekly. "Okay," said Dylan slowly, "well, that's why I have three other flavors in this bag. Hopefully, one of them is what you want."

Paige could tell Dylan was one step away from snapping. Marco looked disbelieving up at him. "So, you went in there, knowing that I would change my mind?"

"I assumed you would," Dylan replied, taking a seat on the stool next to him.

"I told you I wouldn't," said Marco, looking very displeased. "You just didn't believe me?"

Dylan rubbed his temples wearily. "Marco…"

"I guess I'm just so predictable," said Marco, jumping off the stool. "Don't follow me!"

Dylan waited for Marco to walk up the stairs and slam the bedroom door before getting off the stool himself. "I am supposed to follow him, anyway, right?" he asked Paige, making sure.

"Yeah, he'll be upset if you don't."

Dylan was starting to rethink the amount of tolerance he thought he had. He wasn't sure if he could do this.

"Give him a minute, though," Ellie advised from the other room. "I once went up there when he wasn't ready for me, and I got…what was it, Paige?"

"I believe he threw his ipod at you," said Paige, smirking.

"Right," said Ellie, "so I suggest, if you're going to go in there, wait a moment, and take something to block your head."

Dylan thought she was joking for a moment, but was alarmed to see that she looked entirely serious. "Great," he said, heading toward the stairs. "Wish me luck."

Dylan knocked on the door, cautiously entering the room. "You holding anything lethal? Are you still mad?" he asked.

Marco shook his head. "No, come in."

Dylan sat down next to Marco on the bed, putting his arm around his shoulders. "Dylan," said Marco softly. "Dylan, I just…like I said, it's selfish of me to keep you home."

"Mhmm," said Dylan, letting his hand rest on his forehead. "I have to admit…" he said slowly, pushing Marco down so that they could lay next to each other on the large bed, "that I always wanted a kid…you know, teaching the game to."

Marco rolled his eyes. "Hockey's on your mind, of course."

"It's just…it's a dream I completely forgot about, you know?" said Dylan, looking uncomfortable talking about something so personal.

"I know, but Hockey is a dream you didn't forget about," said Marco reasonably. "You can have both, Dylan. Just be here for me for as long as you can, and then visit whenever you can, and don't abandon me."

"I never would, Marco," said Dylan, smiling affectionately.

"So," said Marco, "what other flavors did you buy me? Anything crazy?"

Dylan bit his lip. "Well, what would be defined as crazy?"

Author's Note: There you have it :) Pleaaaase review.