A/N: Hi to all of those who are reading this. I now give you chapter two of 'Homecoming'. Since re-reading the previous chapter, I've found quite a few things I'm not happy with, so I hope I can use this chapter as a way to cancel out my mistakes!

There are still definite imperfections with this, and I know the ending is soppy, but it felt right at the time.

Please let me know what you thought; I hope I can do it justice.

The second night wasn't any easier; another nightmare waking Christian with a start and reducing him to a quivering wreck. This time Aaron didn't wake up, so Christian slipped out of bed and crept out of the room, closing the door gently.

The night was unusually still, and there was no need for the sweater he had brought outside with him. He looked down at the dry ground and watched an ant making its steady path across a large crack in the paving slab. The sweat drying on his back was making him itch, and as much as a shower would have been wonderful, Christian didn't want to wake Aaron when he was still so weary.

After the horrible emotional outburst of the day before Aaron had gone very quiet, insisting on cleaning the kitchen alone while Christian went for a run. He just wanted a little time alone, he said, smiling at him to soften the blow.

So Christian had run, for longer than he normally did, almost into the middle of town, through the park and down by the hospital, where he sat trying to get his breath back. When he had returned home, shaking like a leaf, he had been amazed by the state of the apartment. The kitchen, for possibly the first time since he had moved in, was spotless – all the glasses cleaned and put away, plates, knives and forks washed up, and even the fridge had lost its funny looking brown stain. He had found Aaron nursing a glass of OJ and reading his bible in the bedroom, the window open above his head. He had murmured a distracted hello, but Christian had withdrawn, not wanting to upset him anymore.

Now, sitting outside with the distant infrequent hum of traffic it was almost easy to think that it was just another night. Perhaps there would be some hot guy getting dressed after an awesome lay, and maybe the alcohol would be leaving his system after all the shots he and Julie downed at the club.

The reality was more frightening than anything he'd considered before. The self-proclaimed slutty bachelor, Christian had been conquered by a good, kind churchy kid who wouldn't sleep naked and had only put out once in his life. He snorted and ran his hands through his hair; it sounded like the plot line to a bad Hallmark Channel movie. With Julie gone, and only work to fall back on, he really was on his own with this one. The conversation he'd had with his mom while Aaron was in the shower had been brief, but promising. She'd been on her way out, but they'd arranged for him to call again on Wednesday evening, when they would have a proper discussion. Christian hoped beyond all hope that she'd have some words of wisdom to share with him on this subject, because he had never felt so out of his depth. They'd got along just fine after his father left, and used to speak every day on the phone when he left home at eighteen, but over the past seven years the phone calls had dwindled down to a couple of times a year. Seeing Aaron so heartbroken over his Mother's rejection had made him quickly re-evaluate his own parental situation and see that he could be so much worse off.

Sighing, he got up and went inside, locking the door behind him and fetching a glass of water from the kitchen. Lying down in the front room he pulled a blanket over himself and switched the television on, muting the sound and enjoying the distraction of the gaudy adverts flashing across the screen. Somewhere in between advertisements for ice cream makers and digital hearing aids he dropped off into a fitful sleep.

Aaron was out of bed at six am, pulling a pair of plain jogging pants from the holdall he had managed to bring with him from the treatment centre. He pulled a t-shirt over his head and looked about for a pair of sneakers to borrow. Christian's were predictably in a corner, under yet another pair of shorts, and he slipped them out as quietly as possible, toeing them on and tying up the laces to take up a little of the slack. He passed Christian sleeping on the sofa and smiled at his usually groomed hair lying tousled across his nose and mouth, allowing himself the smallest brush of his fingertips against his skin. Letting himself out of the door he shut it with a quiet click, stretching his arms out above his head and easing the crick in his neck, before setting off down the path at a slow jog.

An hour later Christian sat staring vacantly at the television, flicking through the channels, glancing at the door every so often, torn between hoping Aaron would be home soon and hoping he wouldn't be.

As disgusted as he felt with himself for even entertaining that idea, Christian knew that he didn't know how to make it all magically better, or how to make Aaron smile again. Frustrated, he switched the set off and frowned, looking at the clock every now and then.

By nine am he was worrying, getting up and walking into the kitchen to look down the path every now and then. After his third cup of coffee he thought he'd better get out of the house before he went crazy. As he slid some flip-flops on and reached to grab his house keys, the front door opened, and a sweating, panting Aaron gripped the doorframe, stretching out his calf muscles. Christian straightened up, a rebuke on his lips, but swallowed it down and plastered on a smile.

"Hey, there you are, I wondered where you'd got to."

Aaron shrugged sheepishly, still panting, and slipped his sneakers off, reaching to stretch his shoulder muscles. Christian stood back as he went to walk past, and grinned when Aaron brushed his lips against his temple on his way to the kitchen. He felt himself relax a little when he heard the sound of a glass being filled with water, and allowed himself a prolonged few second stare at Aaron's back, muscles outlined by sweat drenched fabric, biceps taut and framed by the close fitting t-shirt.

"You alright?" Aaron said, jerking him out of his daydream. He nodded dumbly, deciding to make a swift exit before he made himself too obvious.

Aaron couldn't hold back a flushed grin as Christian left, heart fluttering with the knowledge that he, Aaron Davies, had made another human being go all dopey and embarrassed.

Just the idea of it made his skin burn scarlet and his heart beat rapidly. Draining the last bit of water in his glass he took a deep breath and walked to the front room, dropping to the sofa next to Christian.

Side by side they sat, hands resting on the fabric between them. Christian looked at Aaron out of the corner of his eye and smiled when he saw him doing the same. After a moment of silence he snorted, shaking his head at how ridiculous they were being.

"Come here," he said, laying his arm along the top of the chair. Aaron hesitated for a second, guilt flashing across his face, and then shuffled along until his body was pressed into the side of Christian's. He ran his hand across his knee, and let it sit there, staring at it as though it had a mind of its own.

"It's okay, you know," Christian said softly, and laid his palm across the chapped skin of Aaron's knuckles, "you are allowed to touch me."

Aaron choked a little; God, if he even knew how much he wanted to. The thought of their night at the airport, in the stuffy room with the cheap sheets and his grandfather's watch made his chest ache with sadness. It felt like their easy comfort and ridiculous, body burning, blood pounding lust was just a distant memory, swallowed up by the separation and sadness. "I get it." Christian said, looking him in the eyes. "It's the sex thing, isn't it? You don't want it." Aaron's eyes widened, and he almost laughed at the look of resignation on his face. Christian was still sat there though, hadn't laughed cruelly at him, hadn't told him to get out, just sat there, holding his hand loosely, looking like a lost child.

"Believe me; it isn't that I don't want to, I swear to you. I just…even when all I want to do is…do stuff with you, there's this voice in my head. I guess it's the doctors from the treatment place, or maybe my Mom. Or my Dad, but part of me thinks; what if it's God? What if God himself is talking to me and telling me to stop thinking those things, because it means I'll go to hell. I don't want to go to hell Christian."

For the longest time Christian sat looking at him thoughtfully, before rubbing his eyes and blinking. "I get what you're saying. One thing though. I know you think I don't know anything about religion or the real world, and you're probably right. What I do know is that that guy Jesus, he was pretty alright. Didn't he have a friend who was like, a prostitute? That's pretty big. And he did awesome stuff because he liked everyone. So, if he can be friends with like, a skanky ho, he could probably be cool with you liking guys. Just a thought." He looked away as Aaron's eyes met his.

The sound of Aaron chuckling was the most welcome thing he'd ever heard, and so infectious that he started laughing himself. Before too long tears were pouring down his cheeks, and Aaron was clutching at his stomach, laughing so hard his cheeks turned bright pink, and he choked out, "You know, you could probably say a thing or two to the people at my…my parent's church. That'd give them something to think about."

Eventually they calmed down, leaving Aaron clutching at Christian's knees, out of breath but smiling, and Christian's arms wound about his shoulders, thumb stroking at the damp skin on the base of his neck. "Come on," he murmured, moving the blond hair out of his forehead, "Let's get you cleaned up."

Aaron tilted his head to look at Christian and looked at him for a few moments, before holding out his hand. "Sure, let's go."

Christian waited; sat on the edge of the bed with his shirt off, playing with the beaded bracelet he wore on his left wrist. The shower had stopped running a minute ago, and he imagined Aaron running his towel over his damp body, hair spiky after a rough rub. He inhaled through his nose slowly, closing his eyes. Now was not the time to rush things. He would let Aaron move things at his own pace, no dirty talking, definitely nothing kinky. Probably no blow-jobs either, unless he offered.

Christian swallowed as the sound of footsteps neared the bedroom, sweat prickling his palms. Not for the first time he reflected on how ridiculous this was. It had been a week since he got laid, and the worst part of it was that he'd hardly thought about it. A couple of weeks ago he'd have been out on the pull, finding any guy with muscles and a tan to get off on, but now…He groaned; people wouldn't even recognise him.

Aaron appeared in the doorway, towel about his waist; he smiled nervously at Christian, walking in slowly.

"Sit down." Christian says quietly, and scoots back on to the bed to make room. He manoeuvres himself until he is resting with his legs crossed loosely in front of him, and the headboard against his back. Aaron reaches down to pick up his jeans, staring at the fabric in his hand, then drops them back on the floor, straightening with a tiny smile jerking his mouth. With measured movements he comes to sit down on the comforter, running his hands over the fabric in small sweeps. Christian reached out and gripped one of his hands carefully, lacing their fingers together and pulling him toward him. Aaron resists for all of three seconds before shuffling along a little, turning his body to face Christian, who looks at him hopefully.

The silence isn't awkward now, and there's that tiny electric current zapping across the silent air, promising that things are going to be better, because at least that connects them, even if they feel like nothing else does. Christian moves round onto his knees and comes to kneel behind him, letting Aaron's hand go and moving both of his palms to rest against the warm skin of his arms. He doesn't move, waiting for a sign that Aaron is alright with this level of intimacy. When he feels a shift, and the blonde head in front of him roll back slightly, he feels as though his heart might stop it's beating so hard.

"It's alright," he murmurs, his breath making Aaron shiver, his mouth involuntarily letting out a shudder.

Aaron knew what was going to happen. It felt as though everything that had happened over the past couple of months had been leading to this moment, and he had the most wonderful feeling of weightlessness when Christian's warm hands hit his skin.

Suddenly he didn't want to wait anymore, was sick of all the nagging doubts and stomach-churning misery. He reached back and gripped Christian's wrists tightly, pulling them round in front of him so their skin collided with a dirty sounding smack. Awkwardly he twisted his head around and searched out Christian's lips, willing, warm and tasting so sinfully good.

Christian leant forward, his tongue darting out to flick across the clean skin of Aaron's mouth and jaw, running his hands down and across the inviting pectoral muscles that jerked and shuddered under his touch.

"Christian…" Aaron groaned, and Christian dug his fingers in to his skin, dragging his nails across his body teasingly. With the strength of somebody who had played sports all their life and the hesitant tenderness of a person who had only ever known someone intimately once before, he twisted and pressed Christian back into the mattress.

When he was at the treatment centre, late at night when he lay on the itchy mattress surrounded by sterile walls and disinfectant, Aaron would close his eyes and try to remember how it felt to be touched by another warm human hand. The weeks before he had taken the penknife to his arm, his mother hadn't been able to bring herself to touch him; she could barely even look him in the eye. Throughout all the ice baths, hard labour and nights listening to the sobs of people in the surrounding cells, he'd had one memory of a night when he had felt loved and desirable. He'd been able to forget about the upcoming excommunication, and the shame his family was going to feel. In its place had been a gut twisting desire that haunted his dreams and made him wake up groaning and covered in sweat. He had been terrified that he would talk in his sleep, and the 'doctors' would hear. The one time he had been strapped into the chair for electrode treatment they had shown him image after image; some of naked women, some of children, some of animals, some of men. Aaron tried hard to ignore the flicker of desire that ran through his stomach when a picture of a beautiful man flashed up, but they caught it. The shock they gave him made him gasp, and tears had pricked his eyes when he thought of Christian.

Sometimes when he lay there, he wondered if he would just die here, alone in the tiny room without any light or love to comfort him. He wished he could speak to himself from a week ago and tell himself not to give up hope; that there was someone who still loved and wanted him.

"Aaron?" Christian's voice sounded concerned, and he blinked, realising that he had paused, his body pushed away from Christian's at arms length, his legs outstretched beneath him. Aaron shook his head slightly, cleared his throat and gently lowered himself on top of Christian.

"What is it? Do you wanna stop? We can…I don't mind, really." Vehemently his head shook again, and Aaron reached one hand awkwardly down behind Christian's hair, cupping the back of his skull, and pulled gently up toward him until their lips met again. After a moment he drew back, before leaning down and murmuring, "Christian?"

"Mmm?"

"I…I love you."

Feedback is welcome, so please review if you have anything you'd like to say.