A/N: Hello readers, welcome to Chapter 3. Thanks to those who have story alerted and favourited this; much appreciated. I'm still trying to iron out the kinks in my writing style while I go along, so thanks for the patience.

I promise, after this chapter there will be less angst, I swear!

Without further ado, on with the story,

Three weeks after Aaron's unexpected arrival things seemed like they were finally beginning to settle into a routine. They both woke up at around six, Aaron went for a run while Christian did a few sit-ups, downed a black coffee and pulled on jeans and a sweater before heading off to do his 'do-gooding' as he termed it. Aaron mentioned it one afternoon as they sat watching 'The Creature from the Black Lagoon' and eating popcorn. They'd been trying out ways of sitting and just being close and intimate without freaking Aaron out. Somehow they found that the sexual side wasn't the issue, and it was only once he was on a come down from his orgasm high that Aaron started to get…uncomfortable.

The one they were enjoying at the moment was Aaron sitting in the corner of the couch with his arms spread along the back and sides, so Christian could sneak into the gap and lean gently against him.

"Are you off to do your community stuff tomorrow?" he'd asked softly, his fingers just brushing the tips of Christian's hair. Christian had huffed and nodded.

"It's do-gooding; it makes me feel better about myself and gives someone company. Don't make it sound better than it is." Aaron had twisted to look at him, a frown on his face.

"Don't do yourself down. You're doing something really great – keeping someone happy who maybe doesn't get much enjoyment out of anything else. You're better at that than you think." He said, blushing furiously as Christian looked up at him in surprise. He reached up to cup Aaron's jaw in one hand, and ran a thumb over his bottom lip.

"Are you flattering me Mr Davis? Because that will get you everywhere…"

"Stop it – of course I'm not. I just think that perhaps you don't have much faith in what you're doing, that's all."

Faith – there was that word again, popping up from time to time, thrown out so casually, but loaded with meaning. Christian had ventured the idea of Aaron joining a local church, but he'd flat out rejected it, and they hadn't spoken of it since. The other day he'd had a text from Julie, finally replying to his first couple of frantic texts sent in the first few days after Aaron had come back. She'd apologised profusely of course, and asked about fifteen questions in return, but Christian couldn't bring himself to reply. He knew he was being petty; it was understandable that she'd be busy with the label and all, and New York was a long way away. He just couldn't help but nurse a small and unreasonable feeling of rejection. He'd leave it for a few days before answering her, then he wouldn't be tempted to get snippy and start a fight.

"Hey," he started tentatively, and Aaron looked down at him, smiling. "Have you, uh, thought about going back to church yet?" He felt Aaron stiffen and pull away.

"Why are you bringing this up again?"

"I just…I want you to be happy. And I know being closer to God makes you happy. I'm sorry." Aaron laughed, and the sound was like a fist squeezing Christian's heart.

"Close to God? Do you have any idea how far from that I am? I'm living with another man, sleeping in his bed, not worshipping Him as I should be. I'm so distanced from Him that I might as well not believe at all."

Christian moved away from him and turned to look in his eyes.

"Is that what you really feel? Is being with me so wrong?" He felt himself grow resentful. "You know, you didn't have to come back here. I didn't make you! You could have stayed and carried on your 'treatment' and got married and lived a lie. So why didn't you?"

Aaron was struck dumb for a moment, fear flicking across his face as he saw the anger and pain in Christian's eyes.

"I don't know. I…I just had to."

"Well then stop making me feel bad for wanting this, for wanting you! I know I don't know what I'm doing half the time, I know that. And I swear, I'm being as patient as I can, but I can't take it when you make me feel bad. I haven't done anything wrong, Aaron."

Christian stood up, shaking his head in frustration.

"I'm going out." Aaron made as if to follow him, and half reached out his hand.

"Christian, wait." But Christian shook his head and turned to walk toward the hall. A few seconds later Aaron heard the door shut and dropped his head into his hands. He couldn't work out what was going on in his head. Every day he woke up he had a blissful few seconds of believing he was back in the house with the other guys, or at home with a mother and father that loved him. Each time he realised that he was far from almost everybody he loved it felt like a knife in his heart, and more than once he'd swallowed tears back.

He just couldn't understand this constant anger coursing through his body. He'd never been confrontational, or prone to the stupid panic attacks he'd been having, and as for being cruel…it was unheard of before he left the treatment centre. Aaron heard the way he lashed out at Christian, and felt a whole new level of disgust. He breathed in through his nose and exhaled slowly; he was going to make this whole messed up situation better, no matter what it took.

Christian sat at the bar, staring down into the vodka and coke he had ordered. He didn't know what to do first; go home and bawl Aaron out before dragging him into bed, or kick himself into next weekend. He shouldn't have pushed, shouldn't have mentioned something he obviously didn't want to talk about. It wasn't like Christian could blame him; rejected by the church that was a central part of his life and disowned by the people that gave birth to him. He'd got a pretty raw deal, all things considered, and once again Christian had that horrible pang of guilt that he seemed to be feeling more and more since they'd met. Guilt over saying insensitive things, not being able to keep his mouth shut, not being able to get used to having to give a shit about somebody else.

But even now, as hurt and angry as he was, Christian could feel a tiny curling bud of love unfurling itself and begin to entwine its leaves about his heart. He was almost glad Julie wasn't here to see this – she would laugh her ass off at him. But then, maybe not. After they had argued over the diary, she had been devastated that she had upset him, and perhaps unfairly he had held it against her for far too long.

He groaned quietly to himself; another fuck-up to add to his list. A voice sounding curiously like his mother's told him in no uncertain terms to get up, asshole. Go home and apologise. Do not ruin this.

He knocked back the last bit of his drink and zipped up his jacket against the evening breeze, before walking as quickly as he could toward the apartment.

Aaron switched off the light in the kitchen and went to wait in the front room, hands on knees, suddenly nervous. He heard the lock of the front door click and took a deep, calming breath.

"Aaron?"

"In here." He called. Christian emerged from the shadow of the hall, looking like a kicked puppy dog. Aaron would have laughed, had he not known that his own expression was probably the same.

"I'm sorry." Christian said quietly, and Aaron shook his head.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. I shouldn't have said what I did. I have no excuse; you've been so good to me. I guess I'm still working on it."

They sat side by side, but this time it was Aaron that reached out for Christian's hand and held it tight.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Everything. You…you saved me." Christian snorted and looked away, but Aaron held on tight.

"I'm serious, if I didn't have you, then I'd have nothing."

Another silence, broken by Aaron smiling and getting to his feet.

"I made dinner." Christian looks at him, eyebrows raised.

"You did what?"

"I made dinner. You haven't got a table though, so we might have to eat here."

"You are trying to get in my pants aren't you?"

Aaron shook his head, grinning and went to retrieve the two plates he had set ready on the kitchen counter. Christian took his gratefully and looked down at it; he remembered his Mom making dishes like this when he was a kid. It was all meat, vegetables and potatoes, covered in proper sauce, not ketchup. While he ate Christian looked sideward at Aaron, who seemed to be applying himself whole-heartedly to the meal.

"Where did you learn to cook?"

"Picked stuff up from my mom. I had to cook when I was living with the other guys too, they were pretty useless."

"You must have been the model son." Aaron paused, almost imperceptibly, but carried on.

"I tried. Said my prayers, gave my allowance to the poor, did all my chores, that sort of thing."

"Sounds like you were better than me. I only prayed to be able to get out of town and live my own life." He frowned to himself, "I kind of drifted from my mom when I moved here. She must have always known I was going to leave – she never got angry at me, or made a scene. Just…let me go." Aaron hesitated before reaching out again, knife and fork held in his other hand. Christian rolled his eyes.

"It's alright, seriously. It's just how it is. We talk a little more now, since you came back."

"You told her about me?"

"Well, yeah. I've got a guy living with me, who's just gone through a tough time, and who I totally care about, so I figured my mom would be the best person to talk to about it. For what it's worth," he continued, "she thinks you sound nice and polite. I think she wishes I was more like you." Aaron grinned at Christian's disgruntled expression and carried on eating. Christian smiled and moved the food around his plate, before putting his head to one side and once more interrupting Aaron.

"I think we should get to know each other a little better." Aaron looked at him in surprise.

"We live together, you've seen me naked, and you know I can cook. What else do you need to know?"

"I don't know, stuff. Little things; how do you like your steak cooked, what's your favourite cocktail, when were you born, how old were you when you got your first pet?"

Aaron placed his cutlery on his plate and put it on the floor, drawing one leg up beneath him.

"I don't have it a lot, but medium rare, I don't drink, so cocktails are off, I was born in August 1982, and I was six when we got some fish. My dad has allergies. How about you?"

"Uh, I don't eat red meat, cocktail is a mojito, born February 1979, and I was three when my mom bought a cat. It died."

After they had cleared up, and Christian had managed to wash, dry and put away all the dishes, they went through to the bedroom and lay down side by side, Christian rolling to face Aaron, pulling his knees up to his chest and tucking his hands underneath his head on the pillow, while Aaron stretched out on his back, hands behind his head and ankles crossed.

"Favourite colour."

"Blue. Yours?"

"Red."

"Figures."

"Hey! First memory."

"Learning excerpts from the Bible with my mom and sister, sitting in a park."

"You have a sister?"

"Yeah. Older than me. What do you remember?"

"Thinking that I wanted to be like James Dean. My mom had a huge crush on him as a kid, we used to watch his films together."

"I remember asking my dad why he died, and he told me it was because he led an unclean lifestyle. I didn't know it was a motor accident until I was about thirteen."

"Live fast, die young, I guess."

"Yeah." In the silence that followed Christian pulled himself up onto his elbow and leant over to brush a kiss over Aaron's mouth. Aaron sighed softly and wrapped his arms around Christian's back, parting his lips slightly and shifting closer to him. After a few seconds, and before things could get too heated, Christian pulled off and moved to his earlier position.

"Favourite food?" he asked, enjoying the sight of Aaron's cheeks coloured pink, and his lips swollen.

"I…uh…spaghetti and meat sauce."

"Caesar Salad."

Christian reached out a hand and ran it slowly over the band of skin showing below Aaron's shirt. He felt him tense and heard the small huff of breath escape his lips, and carried on feeling the lines of muscle and skin drawn over his torso.

"Favourite music?"

"B…Beethoven. And Stevie Wonder."

"Really? Sounds like you're too cultured for a boy like me."

"Sh…shut up, I can't concentrate when you're doing that."

"Doing what? What am I doing?"

"T…touching me."

"If you don't like it just tell me to stop." Christian whispered, and Aaron nearly came undone when he looked over at him, all lidded eyes and messed hair. He tried to talk, but a groan escaped his lips instead. Christian moved up alongside him, the length of his body pressed up against his side.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to," he breathed, "you just look so good lying there."

Aaron took in the teeth grazing the bottom lip and the curls falling almost into his eyes, and reached out to grab him roughly, moving their bodies so they lined up perfectly, desperate for some friction.

"Don't you dare stop!" he groaned against Christians jaw, and reached for his hand, guiding it round to his front.

It was times like this that Christian was glad Julie wasn't around.

Hope you enjoyed it! Do leave a review if you have feedback!