Disclaimer:

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge, Disney owns them.

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. Her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story, owns her.

I am making no money from this story.

Warning:

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Adult Language.

A/N:

Beta credit for this chapter goes to the wonderfully patient, Tis a Tale Worth Telling. She is a multitalented writer posted at this site. Please check out her stories. Among my favorites are The Day Spot Lost His Marbles and Angry Kid With No Money.

Chapter 26 – Someone to Watch Over Me

"So when did you talk to your brother about me?" Skittery asked as he drove from the hospital parking lot.

Irish tensed at the question. Her mouth went suddenly dry and she made a mental note to kill Billy for not informing her that he'd spoken to Skittery. "What do you mean?" she asked guardedly.

"Billy said that you told him about me." Skittery glanced in her direction and raised an eyebrow. "He said that you like me and that you think I'm a nice guy."

"Uh-huh."

"So what did you tell him?" Skittery asked, one side of his mouth curled into a distinctive smirk.

"I told him that I like you—and that I think you're a nice guy."

Irish studied the expression on Skittery's face as she waited for him to reply. The smirk had disappeared and his jaw hung slightly open as he stared at the road ahead. He didn't seem angry or annoyed, so she figured that his discussion with Billy had nothing to do with the conversation he'd had with Specs that night at the diner. The smug expression he'd had just moments before was replaced with something akin to frustration.

Skittery could see Irish watching him out of the corner of his eye. He kept his focus straight ahead and remained silent trying to ignore her stare. Finally, he glanced at Irish, and then looked back at the road, snapping, "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Irish said apologetically. She followed Skittery's lead of looking out at the road ahead.

After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence, the corners of Irish's mouth began to turn up. Suddenly, everything became abundantly clear. "Ah-ha! You thought I told Billy that I like you not that I like you." Irish snickered.

Skittery sneered at her from across the seat, but made no attempt to refute her allegation.

"I'm surprised that you don't need help carrying around that ego of yours."

"Well, maybe you didn't tell him that you like me, but you do, so don't even bother denying it."

"I'm not denying it." Irish grinned, casting him a sideways glance. "You don't think that I go around making out with every egotist that comes along, do you?"

A broad smile filled Skittery's face and Irish felt her stomach muscles tighten. When Skittery looked at her like that, his entire face seemed to smile. The grin was slightly crooked and seemed to carry through into his dark eyes.

"Actually, no, I don't think that you go around making out with every egotist that comes along." Skittery laughed, weaving his fingers through hers and rubbing the back of her hand gently with his thumb.

Billy's apartment was in one of the newly renovated warehouses on the south side of town. It wasn't even close to being a luxury building, but the rooms were modern and the layout was attractive. The main living space was one large square with an open kitchen, dining area, and living room, with a decent sized bedroom and bathroom off to the side. There wasn't a lot of furniture in the living room—just a coffee table, a large couch, and two end tables with lamps—but they faced an impressive home entertainment unit with a large television, a VCR, and a drop-dead stereo system.

"This is a great apartment," Skittery said as he locked the door behind him. "I'd kill to have a place like this."

"Billy moved in here about four months ago. His old apartment was barely fit for human inhabitance. I'm guessing that his new girlfriend has something to do with getting this place. I can't picture him bringing a girl like Peggy back to that dump he used to live in."

"Damn! Will you look at this stereo and music collection? I've never seen so many records and cassettes."

"That entertainment center was the only decent thing in his old place," Irish said as she fumbled around in the refrigerator. "Billy's always loved music. He was in a band when he was in high school. You should hear him play guitar. He rocks!"

Skittery was in awe as he flipped through the long row of records. He felt like he'd died and gone to music heaven. "Damn, I thought Itey had a great music collection, but this beats the hell out of his."

"Go ahead and play something if you like. Billy won't mind, and you can't disturb the neighbors because there aren't any."

"I like your brother," Skittery said, sliding an album from its jacket and placing it carefully on the turntable. "Billy's a really cool guy."

"He likes you, too, or he wouldn't have wanted you to stay here with me."

"Yeah, I still don't get it. If I was him, I sure wouldn't want my sister to spend the night alone with some guy."

"Well, Billy's a good judge of character. Besides, it's not like I'd have to come here to do something."

"Maybe not, but I wouldn't go inviting trouble by letting some guy stay with you. Especially one as good looking and irresistible as me." Skittery chuckled.

"Okay, Fabio." Irish laughed, handing him a plate with a sandwich and a bottle of beer. "When you've finished feeding your ego, you can feed your stomach. I made you ham and American cheese on white bread with brown mustard, just the way you like it."

"What are you, psychic? How'd you know what I like?"

"It's my job, remember? This is what you ordered the last time you had lunch at the diner, but this time I substituted a bottle of beer for the Coke. I thought you'd like this better."

"You thought right."

Irish brought her own sandwich and beer to the coffee table and curled up on the couch. "You must be starved. You haven't eaten anything since before the party."

"Yeah, I guess I was a little too busy to think about food."

"Well, at least everything turned out okay."

"Everyone survived, anyway. But E-Mail and Dutchy still have a long way to go. It sure as hell isn't going to be easy on either of them."

"Do you think that they'll be sent to the same place for rehab?"

"It's not likely. They fed off each other's habit, so they'll probably need to be separated for a long time. Besides, it's not like they were ever real friends. The only thing they actually had in common was coke. Those jackasses are lucky that Itey held off celebrating his birthday until Reggie came home. If my parents hadn't forced E-Mail to come to the party last night, he and Dutchy could have been off by themselves someplace when they OD'd. God knows what would have happened."

"I don't even want to think about it," Irish said, visibly shuddering. "It's too awful."

"I doubt that anyone will ever forget Itey's eighteenth birthday."

"Well, I sure won't."

"I really am sorry about what happened tonight," Skittery said, moving Irish's hair back, away from her face. "You know—about Spot barging in on us like that."

"Do you mean that you're sorry that we were interrupted, or are you sorry that we got caught?"

"Both, actually. But what I meant to say is that I'm really sorry I embarrassed you."

"That wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, it was. I was acting like some dunked-up frat-boy at his first kegger. I'm not saying that it wasn't great, but trying to seduce you in my parents' utility room with all of your friends on the other side of the door wasn't one of my finest moments."

"You didn't hear me complaining. I could have left any time I wanted, but…"

"But what?" Skittery asked, giving Irish the smile that made her stomach tighten.

Irish didn't answer. She took a sip of beer and averted her eyes to whisk some imaginary sandwich crumbs from her shirt.

"But you didn't want to?"

"No," Irish said, fidgeting with a throw pillow from the couch. "No, I didn't."

Skittery took the pillow from her lap and tossed it aside. "In that case, let's see if we can pick up where we left off."

This time there were no thoughts of Sister Mary and her virginity speech. The only sounds Irish heard were her own quick gasps for air and the soft whisper of her name between fervent kisses. It wasn't long before she felt the physical effects of Skittery's excitement growing and instinctively moved her body against it. A warm flush covered Irish's body and she raised her hips and pressed back against his. He groaned deeply into her neck and his hot breath washed over her. Then, in a move that shocked even her, she reached down and cupped him in her hand.

"That's enough!" Skittery grunted, pulling away and righting himself back against the couch."

"What's the matter? I thought you wanted to—"

"What I want is for you to go the hell into the other room and let me try to get some sleep!"

"Um… Okay," Irish mumbled, trying to hide her confusion and embarrassment as she moved from the couch.

Skittery's face looked hard and angry, and she quickly turned away to avoid his icy stare.

His body remained tense as he listened to Irish opening and closing doors in the other room.

"Why the hell doesn't she just go to sleep already?" he mumbled aloud.

Irish cringed when she returned to the living room and saw the look on Skittery's face. Her embarrassment quickly turned to anger when she sensed the venom behind the glare. "I brought you a blanket and a pillow, and I left a disposable razor and a new toothbrush on the bathroom sink. Feel free to use the razor to slit your throat, but please do me a favor and lean over the bathtub when you bleed-out. I don't want to have to clean up your mess!"

"Look, Irish, I—"

"If you want another blanket, there's one in the hall closet on the top shelf. I'm sorry that I kept you up past your bedtime!" she growled, throwing the blanket and pillow in his face.

"Irish, wait, I—"

"No, Skittery, you're right," Irish spoke with her chin raised high and her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's late and I really should, um, how did you put it? Ah, yes, go the hell into the other room and let you try and get some sleep!"

"I didn't mean that like it sounded." Skittery grabbed her by the wrist as she tried to storm away.

"That's okay." She glared down at him. "I got your message loud and clear."

"Damn-it, sit down and let me explain!" He yanked her arm until she flopped down onto the couch. "Irish, I didn't mean that I want you to go into the other room, but I think that maybe you should. I'm tired and my resistance to you is low, and if you stay… If you stay, Irish…"

"If I stay, what?" she challenged.

"Damn-it, I want you, and if we kept on going like that I wasn't going to be satisfied with just making out. Can't you understand that?"

"Contrary to what you may think, I'm not a moron, and I understand completely." The look in Skittery's eyes and her own boldness made her stomach tighten and her insides flutter, but she made no attempt to move away.

"Irish, please," he murmured, running his fingers along the side of her face. "You're playing with fire, here."

Skittery's words made the ache in Irish's body increase dramatically. His touch felt almost magnetic, and she closed her eyes, leaning her cheek into his hand. A rush ran through Skittery's body at the feel of her warm skin against his fingers. When Irish nuzzled her face against his palm, Skittery drew in a breath as tightness gripped both his chest and his jeans simultaneously. He leaned forward and, lifting her chin, touched his lips to hers.

He pulled away slightly and his eyes searched her face. "Irish, please, this isn't a game. Do you know what you're doing?"

"I'm not an idiot and I'm not a child. I'm capable of making my own decisions without your permission or anyone else's."

"Damn, you're strong-willed."

"Okay, Skittery, I give up," Irish said, tossing up her hands in frustration. "I don't have the strength or the patience for this right now. I'm tired of fighting, and I'm going to sleep. You can stay up and watch television, or read, or jump out the window for all I care, but I refuse—"

"Be quiet." Skittery smiled, putting a finger over her mouth. "Don't you realize that being strong-willed is one of the things I like best about you? There's nothing better than a beautiful woman who's not afraid to speak her mind." His eyes followed the path of his finger as it traced the outline of Irish's mouth. "You excite the hell out of me," he said, moving his gaze from her mouth directly to her eyes.

The kiss was soft and gentle, but soon turned deeper and more urgent. His tongue moved easily through her parted lips, embracing every texture it encountered. When his mouth had explored every part of hers, it moved hungrily to her jaw. His hot, moist breath tickled her neck and the hairs on her nape tingled with excitement. The smoothness of her skin and the feel of her long, straight hair against his cheek coaxed a deep, guttural groan from his throat.

Irish shuddered as Skittery's hand caressed her breast through the fabric of her clothing and moved swiftly to the buttons on her shirt. She raised herself from the couch to help him rid her of the confining garments then Skittery quickly pulled his tee over his head and tossed it to the floor. The feel of his warm skin against hers and the contrast to the cool air around them felt wonderful. His hands, and mouth, and body moved expertly across hers, and she wondered for a moment how knew every spot on her body that ached for his touch. All cognitive thought vanished as she felt her body writhing against his.

"Do you want to do this here or move into the bedroom?" Skittery breathed. His voice was deep and strained as he pressed his hips against hers.

"I don't know," she answered breathlessly. "What's the difference?"

"What?"

"Well, you have done this before, right?"

"Of course I've done this before."

"Well, then, you tell me. Which one is better?"

Skittery's eyes went wide when he realized that Irish wasn't talking about the comfort of the couch versus the bed. "Irish, is this your first time?"

"Uh-huh."

Skittery sat up and slumped against the back of the couch. He shifted uncomfortably as he tried to ignore the intense feeling between his legs. He leaned his head back and rubbed his hands over his face as the reality of the situation sank in.

"What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong, but you should have told me that this was your first time."

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters! This is your first time, damn-it! Your first time should be special, and not like this. It should be with someone you really care about and with someone who really cares about you."

Irish felt like she'd been punched in the stomach as Skittery's words rang in her ears. She cared about him. She cared about him more than she ever thought she'd care about anyone, and she thought that he cared about her, too. The realization that he didn't was devastating. To him, she was just another high school kid at his brother's birthday party. If it wasn't her in that utility room with him it would have been anyone else who was willing to go. If Billy hadn't asked him to baby-sit her, he'd be with someone else right now.

Irish didn't know if it was from hurt, anger, or embarrassment, but she felt her tears beginning to form, and she damn well wasn't going to humiliate herself further by letting him see her cry. She pulled the blanket from under her and wrapped herself inside. She tried to stand, but stumbled as her feet tangled in the blanket.

"Irish, I—"

Irish headed for the bedroom, knocking an ashtray and lamp off of the table as she yanked the end of the blanket from under Skittery.

"Will you wait a minute!" Skittery pleaded, grabbing her arm.

Irish spun around and wrenched her arm from his grasp. "Back off!" she shouted, turning away again.

"Look, there's no reason to get upset about this."

"No reason to get upset?" Irish turned on her heel and kicked the end of the blanket out of her way as she stepped forward. Skittery took an instinctive step back as she closed the distance between them. "How dare you think that I would even consider doing something like this if I didn't have feelings for you!"

"Will you listen to me? I—"

"No, you listen! What? Do you think that I do this sort of thing all the time? I'm not some two-bit whore willing to give a ride to the first fella that comes along, you know!"

"C'mon, Irish. I never said… I never even thought—"

"I know what you thought, but don't be sorry. I'm the one that's sorry. I was daft enough to think I was a more than just some high school kid who was willing to let you get into her knickers. I must have been off my nut not to realize that this was a case of any port in a storm. And will you put on some damn pants! You look ridiculous standing there like that!"

"That's enough!" Skittery growled, shaking her by the shoulders.

"Get your hands off of me!" she shouted, raising her right arm high and bringing her fist down hard against his sternum.

"Jesus," he grunted, letting go of her shoulders and rubbing his chest.

A smirk appeared on Irish's face when she realized that the punch had made a formidable impact.

When Skittery saw the smirk he became furious and grabbed her by both wrists. "That's enough, I said! Now, you are gonna shut that big mouth of yours and listen to me! I never thought you were some two-bit whore, and you can't blame me for everything that happened here tonight. I gave you every opportunity to go into that bedroom and go to sleep. And for the record, I don't sleep with whores, and I don't go around trying to pick up random high school girls to screw. I was honest with you, Irish, but you weren't honest with me."

"When wasn't I honest with you?"

"You should have told me that this was your first time. That's a big deal, and it should be special."

Irish's eyes began to well up again at the reminder that this was just a fling to Skittery.

"Damn," Skittery moaned. "What did I do now?"

"Nothing." Irish groaned and wrapped herself tighter inside the blanket. "You didn't do anything. It was all me. I didn't realize that this was a casual thing to you," she said, wiping her eyes. "God, I feel like a bloody fool."

"Is that what this is all about?" Skittery asked as his body relaxed and a gentle smile crossed his face. "Oh, baby, no," he said, pulling her against him and putting his arms around her. "This isn't like that." He swayed gently to comfort her. "There is nothing casual about you and me."

"Then why did you—I mean, why wouldn't you?"

"C'mere," he said, sitting her down on the couch and facing her. "That was a big bomb you dropped on me tonight. You took me by surprise, is all. I never thought that you were easy, but I didn't expect you to tell me that this was your first time, either. This is a big step in your life, and you just don't make a decision like that without thinking about it first. You weren't being fair to either of us."

"It was my decision to make, and I had thought about it. I'm not a child, you know."

"No, you're not a child, and no, it isn't only your decision to make. It's ours. Deciding if you're ready or not to take this step is totally up to you, but choosing to have that happen here tonight with me should have been a decision for both of us to make. Being someone's first is a big deal, too, Irish. There is a lot of responsibility that goes along with that. To be honest, I've never been anyone's first."

Irish' jaw dropped and her eyes widened.

"Does that surprise you?"

"Yeah, it does. I figured that you and some cheerleader climbed into the back of your car or something like they do in the movies and that you were both doing it for the first time."

"It was in the back seat of a car, alright, but it wasn't my car—it was hers, and it sure wasn't like in the movies. Well, not like in any movies that I'd want you to see, but she was a cheerleader. It was my senior year at Pulitzer, and I was away at the college for a recruiting weekend. After meeting some of the faculty and getting a tour of the campus, the team invited me to a private party. It was awesome! There was a live band, great food, and more booze than I'd ever seen in one place. And there were more pretty girls than I'd ever seen in one place, as well. I was in my glory when this drop-dead-gorgeous cheerleader hooked-on to me.

"Before I knew it, we were outside in the back seat of her car. I'm not gonna lie and tell you that the sex wasn't great, because it was. What I lacked in experience, she made up for. When it was over, she simply pulled her skirt back down like nothing had happened and left me breathing heavy alone in her car.

"When I finally pulled myself together, I went back inside and found that she'd latched-on to another guy. I pulled her aside to ask her what was going on and she laughed. She told me that our bump in the car was simply her way of supporting the team. I can still remember her exact words. 'Look, kid, I was just trying to show you what a good time you'll have if you decide to come to this school. It was nothing personal.'

"There I was thinking that I was the hottest seventeen-year-old alive because some twenty-one-year-old college cheerleader wanted me. I felt like such a moron that I packed my stuff and came home that night."

"But isn't that what you guys live for? I've always heard that having great sex with a gorgeous girl and no strings attached is what guys dream about."

"What idiot high school guy told you that?"

"All of them," Irish replied, rolling her eyes.

"It figures. I would have told you the same thing back then, but nobody wants to feel like a fool—especially their first time. I can't say that I haven't had a one-night stand here and there, because I have. But that recruiting weekend was the only time I've ever done it with someone that I didn't get to know first."

"God, I'm such an eejit." Irish groaned, pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her face into the blanket.

"You are not an idiot—you're fantastic. And don't think for one minute that I don't care about you. I care more than you know. More than I've ever cared for anyone. You've got more fire and spunk than any three women I've ever met. You've got a hot temper, a stubborn streak, you infuriate me to the point of insanity, and I can't get enough of you. So if you still want to do this…"

Irish's jaw dropped slightly open, but she didn't speak.

"It's okay," Skittery said. "We don't have to. I'm just saying—"

"No, I want to, but you said that you didn't want to be anyone's first."

"No, what I said was that being someone's first is a big responsibility. I never wanted that before now, but if you are sure that you're ready, then so am I. I want your first time to be with me. So, are you sure?"

"Yes, Skittery, I am."

"Okay," he said, getting to his feet and pulling her with him. "But if we're going to do this, then we're going to do it right." He took the blanket from around her and tossed it onto the couch, then led her by the hand into the bedroom.

The frenzied passion that had gripped the couple earlier faded as deeper sensations and emotions engulfed them. Every nerve in Irish's body came alive under the touch of Skittery's gentle hands. Each kiss, each touch, and each movement brought them to heightened passion.

Eventually, Skittery pulled away slightly and drew in several long and calming breaths. "Wait here," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'll be right back."

Skittery went into the bathroom and began fumbling through the medicine cabinet.

"Are you alright in there?" Irish called out.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered. "Give me a minute."

When Skittery emerged from the bathroom, his face was serious and his eyebrows were pulled tightly together. He went directly to Billy's nightstand and began rummaging through the drawer.

"What are you doing?" Irish insisted.

A look of relief covered Skittery's face, and he held up his hand. In-between his index and middle fingers he held a foil condom packet.

"I didn't want to wait until the last minute to find this," Skittery said, placing the packet on the nightstand and lying back down next to Irish. "Like I said, we're going to do this right, and that includes not taking any stupid chances."

Irish marveled at the feel of his body as she ran her hands along his shoulders and back. No one would ever suspect that the seemingly thin and lanky boy that shot hoops for hours in his parents' driveway was, in reality, an amazingly toned and chiseled athlete. His skin was smooth and taut and held tightly to the hard muscles underneath.

She moved her hand easily from the wide shoulders that sat atop his lean and muscled chest, and her stomach quivered when she felt the subtle ripples of his abdomen. Her exploration faltered for a moment and she could feel her face redden when her hand reached the path of hair that trailed from his navel. She heard him chuckle softly when her hand quickly retreated back to his abdomen and she buried her face into his chest.

"It's okay," he whispered, gently stroking her hair. She mustered the courage to look up at his face, and was relieved to see the gentle smile across his lips. "It's okay," he assured her, meeting her eyes. "You don't have to—"

His words cut off when her hand moved effortlessly to its original destination. He hissed in a quick gasp of air and threw back his head as his eyelids closed tight, then swallowed hard to stifle the low growl escaping his throat. His hands gripped the sheets to steady himself when his hips bucked forward, then grabbed her wrist to keep her hand from moving.

"What is it?" Irish asked, feeling slightly panicked. "Am I doing something wrong?"

"God, no," he said, snorting and gently pulling her hand from around him. "You are doing everything right. Too right. If you keep that up, it will be all over right here."

"Oh. . . . Oh! I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said, pulling her tight against his chest and kissing her temple. "Irish, are you sure that you want to do this? If you don't, it's okay, but you have to tell me now."

"Yes, I'm sure," she answered, though her voice wavered just a bit. Irish felt a wave of apprehension when Skittery reached across her for the condom. She watched as his long, thin fingers tore open the foil packet, but averted her eyes while he prepared.

"You're nervous," he said, lying back down next to her.

"No, I'm not," she squeaked.

"Liar." He laughed. "It's okay to be nervous. You're supposed to be." He moved closer—felt her body tense against his. "I know you're scared," he said, pushing her hair back from her face, "but you don't need to be. I'm not going to do anything that you don't want me to do. Were gonna take this nice and slow, okay?"

Irish closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, mustering a faint smile.

Skittery kissed her face, her neck, and her throat as he positioned himself. When he moved forward, Irish gasped and clenched her fingers around his biceps.

"Irish, look at me," he said, struggling to keep his body still. "You've got to relax, baby. If you don't, this isn't going to work."

She stared into his dark eyes, and soon her breathing matched his and their bodies moved together in prefect rhythm. Skittery carefully paced himself as he studied her face. With her head thrust back against the pillow, her eyelids fluttered closed and audible sighs and soft murmurs passed breathlessly through her lips. It wasn't until her body shuddered beneath him and her nails dug into his shoulders that he permitted his own relief.

Itey yawned as he crawled out of his sleeping bag. He would rather have pulled it over his head and gone back to sleep, but the beer he'd consumed throughout the night was driving him to the bathroom. He shuffled across the gym and noticed that his brother's sleeping bag was empty. As his eyes adjusted to the bright locker room lights, Itey wasn't surprised to see his brother leaning against a locker with his legs stretched out on one of the benches.

"What are you still doing up?" Itey asked, situating himself in front of the urinal.

Skittery took a long drag on his cigarette and shrugged.

"When did you start smoking?"

"Gee, I'm sorry you caught me smoking in the boys' room, Brother Joseph. Does this mean that you're gonna give me detention?"

"What to you expect me to do, keep you after school? How much later can I keep you? It's already, like, five in the morning." Itey trudged to the sink, pumped some of the industrial liquid soap into his hand, and turned on the faucet.

Skittery studied his brother as he yawned and snorted and then dried his hands on his tee shirt.

"Can I ask you something, Itey?"

"You can ask me anything you want," Itey said, shoving his brother's legs off of the bench and sitting down beside him.

"If Reggie came to you tomorrow and told you that she was going to quit being a nun, what would you do?"

"That's never going to happen."

"Just answer the question, okay?"

"I'd support her however I could, like I always have."

"Jesus Christ, Itey, you know what I mean. What would you do? Would you quit being a brother and try and get her back again?"

"First of all, knock off the Jesus Christ remarks. In my business, we frown on that sort of thing."

"Sorry… But what would you do? Would you quit, too?"

"I can't answer that question for a lot of reasons, Skitts. First of all, I didn't become a brother because Reggie is a nun. I'm not saying that seeing her as happy as she is living a life of service didn't have an effect on my decision. I thought that maybe I could experience some of the same joy that she has."

"Don't you ever want to go back to the way you were when you were kids? Don't you ever get the urge to take her in your arms and make love to her underneath the stars?"

"Are you drunk?"

Skittery rolled his eyes and held up the can of Coke he was nursing. ""C'mon, and answer the question already."

"I can't answer that question. I've taken a vow of celibacy, remember?"

"Jut because you don't do it doesn't mean that you can't think about it."

"Yes, it does. It's called having impure thoughts and it's a sin."

"Jesus—I mean, damn, those rules are strict. They don't even let you think about it?"

"That's one of the sacrifices and one of the commitments I made when I joined the brotherhood. Sacrifice and penance are a way of bringing you closer to God."

"I think that you should have had my agent represent you when you sighed up with this team." Skittery laughed. "Cal could have gotten you off with just promising not to eat meat on Friday or something."

"I wish," Itey said, chuckling.

"Do you still love her?"

"I'm always going to love her, Skitts. Nothing can change that, but I can't love her the way you're talking about."

"If you love her, and you are around her all the time, how can you not think about her like that?"

"I pray… a lot!"

"If being around Reggie is that hard on you, why did you come back to Pulitzer? You could have explained the situation to whoever is in charge of you. I'm sure that they could have found another school that needed your help."

"Skitts, nobody sent me here; I asked to come. I knew that the archdiocese had sold the school and it would no longer be a religious institution, but things in the church aren't like in the old days. Reggie's order doesn't require that the sisters work expressly for the church. They're permitted to do lay work. That's why I wasn't surprised to hear that she and Sister Mary had decided to stay behind and continue teaching at Pulitzer. When Reggie wrote me that the school was looking for a dean of students, I asked to be transferred here. The church is right next door, so I split my work between there and the school."

"But why make it so hard on yourself?"

"Life isn't always easy, Skitts, or haven't you figured that out yet? We face challenges every day. Don't forget that Reggie was not only my girlfriend—she was, and always will be, my best friend. We work well together. We think alike and enjoy each other's company. I'm glad that I made the decision to come back."

"So, all-in-all, it's a pretty good arrangement, except for the battling the impure thoughts thing?"

"That's a crude way of putting it, but yes."

"Itey?"

"Yeah, Skitts?"

"I want to ask you something else, but I want to ask my brother Itey, and not Brother Joseph."

"Skitts, I am Brother Joseph, and I am your brother. The two are inseparable."

"Damn-it, Itey, this is important."

"Okay." Itey sighed. "What's your question?"

"Well, I know that everyone always figured that you and Reg would get married, and we were all surprised when things turned out the way they did. I know that you were pretty broken up when you found out that she'd decided to join the convent. That's why you and Spot snuck out in the middle of the night and drove twenty miles to the nearest Marine recruiting office before Ma could find out and stop you."

"That wasn't the only reason I joined the Corps."

"Try telling that to someone who believes you. Anyway, my question is, do you think that the idea of joining the brotherhood would have occurred to you if Reggie hadn't taken vows? I mean, suppose that she had just decided that she didn't want to get married. If she'd decided to stay single and didn't make a commitment to remain celibate, do you think that you would have taken that vow anyway?"

"Are you asking if I only agreed to a life of celibacy because she did?"

"Look, Itey. As far as I know, you never wanted anyone but Reggie. You spent all those years away while you were in the corps even after she took her final vows, and you still never moved on. Hey, you're not gay are you?" Skittery chuckled, nudging him in the shoulder.

"No, Skittery, I'm not gay."

"Are you a virgin?"

"No, I'm not, but I never found anyone else that I wanted to have a permanent relationship with."

"I don't know how you do it, Itey. Seriously. I mean, if you lost your favorite pair of shoes, you wouldn't stop walking. I'm not saying that you would settle for the first pair of Reeboks that came along, but you could go shopping and try on a few different styles. You may not find any shoes that are as good as the ones you lost. They may not make you feel great, but it could still be good. Honestly, Itey, I don't know how you do it. I know I sure couldn't."

"I guess that maybe 'shoes' are more important to you than they are to me. My feet may get cold every now and again, but the monk's sandals are working out okay."

"Look, kid, I'm not implying that you aren't great at what you do. I'm just wondering if you only agreed to this life and the celibacy thing because you knew there was no chance with Reggie. Like, if you couldn't have her, then why bother to have anyone?"

"I don't know, Skitts. I honestly don't know. I remember praying for God to make Reggie change her mind when she first went into the convent. I prayed the entire two years while she did her novitiate. I stopped talking to God for a long time after she took her final vows. In a way, I blamed God for her leaving me."

"I hear that. God and I weren't on speaking terms for a long time."

"I know. It took a long time for me to understand and to accept that she didn't leave me—she went to God."

"You're still in love with her, aren't you, Itey?"

Itey stared at Skittery for a long moment. His mouth opened and closed, but he didn't answer. He looked away and stared at the floor.

Skittery put his arm around his brother and rested his chin in the thick mass of black curls. "It's okay, little brother," Skittery said, kissing him on top of the head. "I know just how you feel."

END Chapter 26

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

A/N:

To those of you who feel slash deprived, I do apologize. Skittery, however, was in need of some good lovin'. Now that Skittery has been relieved, be assured that the slash will again return to this story.

Thanks to cymbalism who reminded me that there are two sides to every love scene. Her chaptered story Sharps & Flats is one of my favorites and her As to Understand is without a doubt one of the best slash works, and positively the best Javid, I've encountered. Do yourself a favor and read her work.

Frisky Wallabee has made me, and countless other readers deliriously happy by continuing with her chaptered story Don't Get Me Wrong. Her work, along with her Wonder Twins counterpart, pennylayne, can be found here at this site and at their Wonder Twins LJ. They are fantastic!