Author's Note: Yeah, you're right. I should definitely lengthen some of these chapters (working on it...still not doing a very good job of so). One thing, though - I have no idea if you're being sarcastic about the development of Annie. I will not defend the short chapters (Because that would be stupid and ignorant of me), but I will say that Annie doesn't..well..seem like the most in-touch with reality person. Thus why I have her still acting kind of weird.

John followed slowly after Timothy, much too deep in thought to truly be paying attention. I should not have done that. If he finds out, he'll hate me, John was brooding, he knew that, but he couldn't help it. But then…I thought he'd hate me if he found out about my…preferences. But he seems okay with me. His mind was a whirlwind of 'ifs', 'buts', and nearly impossible visualizations of situations that threw Timothy completely out of character, where he yelled and screamed and told John to go away, that he never wanted to see him again.

"John?" Timothy was on his front porch now, holding the door open and waiting for John to follow. John snapped himself out of it, lengthening his stride to get inside quickly. Who knew who could be watching? Or what they might be thinking? He ducked inside and moved so that Timothy could shut the door.

"Hey, you'll never guess what I found the other day," Timothy said mischievously, grabbing his friend's hand and leading him to his basement. John was only shocked by the movement for a moment. But then, Timothy had always been this way. Easily cheerful, and not really scared to touch someone. Unless it was Annie, of course. John caught himself thinking bitterly of his female friend, but immediately chastised himself for it. Annie was a good person….odd, but good.

The pair rushed down the stairs. The basement had boxes lining the sides, but in the middle was a large bulge that was covered by a gray tarp. John was bewildered. "I don't get it, Timothy. What is it?"

"This!" Timothy grabbed the edges of the tarp and whisked it off, revealing the skeleton of a go-cart. They had built it themselves for a soap box derby. Of course, they had immediately been kicked out.

"I remember this," John said slowly. "They said it was too 'high-tech' for the competition.."

"Probably didn't help that you insisted on putting that turret on the back. What did it shoot again?"

"Chewy pellets," John smiled, running a hand over the cold metal as he allowed himself to remember. That had been a time so long ago…back before the pair had met Annie, even. "But I still think it was your engine design that got us kicked out."

The pair were nerds even at that age, but the advantage to being such was they were the intelligent types. Both were fascinated and talented with mechanics, even since a young age. It was why they had made such a formidable members of the Cowboy Kids Club.

But this happy memory brought back sad ones as well, at least for John. It wasn't long after this that he had started holding on a little too long when Timothy hugged him. Timothy had never noticed, but John's mother had. They had had a long talk….luckily for him, his mother approved of his lifestyle. His father had not, but he had left a long time ago. John had been so relieved…he doubted he'd have the courage to come out if his father had been there.

"Speaking of mechanics," Timothy said, pulling a rolled-up sheet of paper from his pocket, "I've got a totally cool new design!"

He spread out the paper, revealing the blue prints. "…It's a chair," John stated.

Timothy picked up the blue prints and whacked John with them before putting them back down. John smirked, but leaned over Timothy to analyze the plans. "Hmm…so…super powered chair…turbo legs that are twenty feet tall? ..You have an obsession with height, Timothy."

Timothy frowned, but ignored his friend. He was very sensitive about his height, and so…well, most of his designs created ridiculously tall mechanical monstrosities. He poked John's hand, nodding in the direction of his favorite part of the machine. "And there would be the dome. We both just sit there, and it will act as a shield. We could even fit a lamp in there so you could read.."

"Timothy, this is…"

"Yes?" Timothy leaned in, a hopeful gleam in his eye.

"Kind of stupid. What would we use it on?"

Timothy looked thoughtful. "I always wanted to get rid of those stupid O'Brien kids from down the street…" He balled up his hand into the closest thing to a fist he could manage, smashing it into his other hand. "I've got it! We'll use it on those jerks who keep being mean to you. Then nobody will ever make fun of you again."

"That…that's very nice of you, Timothy," John said, again studying the plans, committing them to memory. "Thank you." He added. Timothy smirked, crossing his arms.

"No problem. Anything for you. You're my pal, after all, right?"

"Yeah…" John said softly. "…I'm your…your…pal."