After one of the quickest showers he had ever taken, Chris threw on the pair of dark grey boxer shorts he had brought with him to the bathroom and stepped in front of the mirror, wiping the condensation from it with his hand before reaching for the toothbrush and toothpaste.

Grabbing the small bottle of hair-gel beside him, he ran the liquid through his short black locks, spiking it up in his usual style with his fingers.

A few more quick glances to make sure every strand was in place; Chris rushed back to his bedroom to continue getting ready as he stepped into the massive walk-in closet to choose an outfit. He opted for a more casual-styled, light-blue, button down dress shirt and a pair of his favorite loose-fitting black jeans.

His heart was racing and he was sweating so much he thought he'd likely have to change his shirt before he met with Dave. He had never been so nervous in his entire life and he couldn't figure out why.

It hadn't even occurred to Chris just how much time had passed until he fixed his watch back into place on his wrist and noticed the time. He had about five minutes before Dave's shift ended and figured it'd be alright to message him now.

Chris reached for his cell phone on his nightstand and logged onto his Facebook account.

'u want me to pick u up? need to go home first or anything?' he sent, as he plopped down on his bed and waited for a response.

Dave replied to the others text a minute later, having just exited his suffocating booth. 'Yeah to both. need to change out of these work clothes.' He felt strangely giddy that the guy was even giving him his time of day. It was a nice change from the nasty attitude Chris usually directed towards him.

'alright. leavin now. b there soon.'

Chris grabbed his jacket from the hall closet and headed for the elevator and out to his car.

The ten minute drive to the theater gave Chris a chance to think.

One minute they were enemies (or at least they were in his eyes) and now he's got the guy coming over to his condo.

Did he ever really hate the guy in the first place? Or was it something different? The thought that Dave would never even speak to a guy like him much less want to be his friend; Chris had been completely wrong about that. He was always so quick to judge; a flaw in himself that he was well aware of, but couldn't control.

He parked his car out front of the large theater and left it running as he waited for Dave, taking one more quick check of himself in his rear view mirror and catching site of the large bruise on the right side of his face. In his haste this morning to get ready, Chris hadn't even noticed it until now. 'God damnit.'

Dave smiled brightly, spotting Chris' car from the entrance. He jogged over to where the younger man parked and pulled open the door without a warning. Concern instantly replaced his grin as he perused the painful looking mottled bruise on Chris' temple, extending downwards to his cheek.

"Hey, man. How's it go-" Before Chris could finish his greeting, Dave interrupted him.

"What happened?"

"Oh uh, this," pointing at the mark on his face, "ya know sometimes when you wake up in the morning and you've got a mark on your body that you cannot for the life of you remember how you got it? Well, when you're as clumsy as I am, it happens a lot." He tried to laugh it off, hoping that Dave would buy it, but by the looks of it Dave obviously wasn't falling for his story.

Dave didn't buy the others excuse for two reasons. Number one, Chris was acting all weird about it. Number two, things like that don't just happen in your sleep. The boys flimsy laugh only increased his suspicion tenfold that he wasn't telling the truth. 'Maybe he got into a fight and lost and he's just too embarrassed to admit it.' The guy sure knew how to run his mouth; it probably got him into trouble all the time. Dave had just seen an example of that yesterday at the comic store. That idea did seem plausible, however, the guy looked more on edge and fidgety than embarrassed.

Chris fidgeted with the zipper of his jacket and contemplated on just telling him the truth. It probably wasn't much of a secret to anyone, including Dave, that Frank D'amico wasn't exactly father of the year. The D'amico family was known for their brutal, merciless, completely overbearing nature; it would be a shock if the man had the ability to show kindness to anyone.

"Or umm…" he started slowly, looking away from Dave as he spoke "or my dad may just be a total fuckin prick. But it's okay. I'm used to it. No big deal." He shrugged it off, not really wanting to discuss it further and instead asked quickly, "so, which way to your place?"

Dave didn't say anything as he regarded the other who seemed pretty insistent on looking anywhere but at him. His eye's widened at what the boy was implying. Was he telling the truth? The guy looked pretty serious. 'His dad hits him?' It came as a surprise for Dave, who had never been hit in his life by his own father. But now that he thought about it, the idea wasn't so far fetched.

Dave was saddened by this revelation. 'He's used to it? Just how long has his dad been hitting him?' He wanted to ask Chris these questions. But the guy looked like he didn't want to say anything else about the subject. Instead of blurting something that could possibly get him kicked out, Dave absentmindedly delivered the directions to his house and starred hard out the window.

Chris brought his eyes up to meet Dave's. The older boy seemed to understand that he didn't want to talk about about it, and for that he was grateful. Smiling slowly, he offered a simple, "thanks."

Dave had actually been the only person he had ever been honest with concerning his father and this sudden trust he gave the older boy was strange; strange, but kind of nice at the same time to be able to get that out.

"Alright, let's get goin."

- o - o - o -

Chris' eyes widened upon arrival at their destination. He had never been in this part of town and, where most would consider this the more grubby area of Staten Island, Chris was in awe as he stared at Dave's modest home. He wasn't judging, criticizing; just admiring how simple Dave had it. How normal of a life the other boy had compared to his own and what he would give to have the same.

"It won't take long." Dave promised while unbuckling his seat belt.

"No problem, man. Take your time."

Dave jogged into his house. As soon as he was within the sanctity of his room, he began to shed his uniform. He grabbed whatever he had that lying around that was clean, which happened to be standard blue jeans, and a plain white t-shirt. Dave descended the steps, shrugging on a jacket as he went. He informed his father that he would be hanging out with a friend, and then he was out the door again.

"There." He said, the car door slamming behind him. "I'm ready."

"Well, that was fast. Christ, I'm like a damn girl when getting ready." Chris laughed as they took off towards his home.

They arrived back at Chris' condominium where the younger man led his friend to the elevator and up to the penthouse suite he called home.

He unlocked the door and peered inside, making absolute certain his dad wasn't home before stepping into the large, open-concept suite.

"This place is huge." Dave said in awe, trailing behind the other as he led the way. He felt out of place just looking into the spacious penthouse. His eyes darted around with interest. He'd never been in any place like this before, and he was impressed.

Chris blushed at his friend's reaction to the place he himself wasn't impressed by one bit. "Yeah, I guess."

He suddenly felt that familiar anxiousness creep up on him as he watched Dave explore his condo in amazement. He felt uncomfortably hot, nervous, excited all at the same time as he kept his eyes on the taller man in front of him.

"Uh, so you want somethin to drink?" he motioned for Dave to follow him to his bedroom where he kept his own stock of liquor. "Got pretty much everything here."

"Yeah." came his reply, he had somehow forgotten that was his reason for coming over here, well that, and to chill with Chris. He broke out in a wolfish grin as he followed the other to his room. Unable to stop himself, Dave scoured the new room as he was introduced to it. He felt like he was being given access to something few people did.

Chris chuckled quietly to himself as Dave's reaction upon seeing his place was, again, priceless.

"Alright, well, just choose what you want," Chris replied as he opened up a large cupboard on the wall displaying an abundance of expensive alcohols, "and take a seat," gesturing towards the leather sofa against the far wall in his bedroom that faced a massive 64'' television, "be right back."

He headed for the kitchen to grab a couple glasses as well as attempt to calm himself from the realization that the guy was in his bedroom at this very moment.

He leaned his elbows against the granite counter-top as he analyzed his thoughts. 'He's just a friend. Just a friend. Just hangin out, drinking, playin some video games. That's all. What the hell is the big deal?'

He dragged his fingers through his hair and released the breath he seemed to be holding in. 'What is wrong with you, Chris?' He inwardly scolded himself as he collected the glasses and started back to his bedroom.

Dave stood amazed by the sight of so much alcohol in one place. Out of the huge collection of liquor, Dave was unable to decide on which one he wanted to try, and so he just randomly selected one. He did as the other boy advised and collapsed onto the comfortable couch with his liquor of choice in tow.

Chris reappeared to find Dave now seated and with a bottle of simple Bacardi Rum in his hand. He grinned widely as he closed the liquor cabinet, "Nice choice," and settled himself next to his friend. They were so close due to the lack of space on the small love-seat and Chris could feel the heat radiating off the other man.

"Umm..." his voice trailing off as he somewhat forgot what he was going to say, "if you, uh, want pop with it I got some Coke in the fridge here." Chris tapped a shaky hand against the bar fridge beside the sofa.

"Some coke would be awesome." Dave took a glass as it was handed to him, conscious of the fleeting feel of the others fingers as they brushed against his.

Chris leaned over towards the fridge and grabbed out two cans of cold pop; just what he needed as his entire body felt as if it were on fire.

"Here, hand me that." He reached for the bottle of rum in Dave's hand and poured a generous amount of the alcohol into the glasses followed by the soda.

"Cheers." Chris grinned, clinking his glass against Dave's before downing the entire contents.

Dave watched Chris gulp down his drink, his adams apple bobbing as he drained his cup. He realized then that he should probably follow the others lead, and brought his own cup up to his lips. He drank at a much slower pace than his short friend, taking a few swigs every so often. Dave wasn't much of a drinker, though he did partake in the occasional beer.

"Ahh. Good stuff, right?" Bringing his glass down from his lips, about to pour himself another when he noticed Dave had barely touched his drink. "Why you so quiet, man? Y'alright? Don't drink much?" He questioned, pouring the equivalent of three shots into his own cup. Or maybe it was that Chris drank more than most. With both his parents being alcoholics themselves, it was no surprise that Chris developed the bad habit at a young age.

The rum and coke mixed drink wasn't bad, it just wasn't something Dave was used to. He responded with a nod to the others question, though the man didn't seem to catch it as he was reaching for the bottle to pour himself another glass. "Not really." He admitted to the second question fired at him. "You must think I'm a pussy."

"No. I don't think you're a pussy. You don't have to drink it if you don't want to. You're just actin' kinda strange, is all." Though he had to admit this whole thing was strange. He and Dave on speaking-terms wasn't exactly something most people would have seen coming.

Chris was hoping he hadn't made a mistake by bringing Dave to his place; the guy was acting very weird, well, weirder than what he had known him to be in the past. He prayed this wasn't just some big joke Dave and his friends were playing on the loner, rich kid; pretending to befriend him only to shoot him down. It's not like it would be the first time to happen to him.

"I am?" Dave considered what he was doing that could be perceived as strange. He guessed he was behaving a little distant; he hadn't forgotten about Chris's bruise, and how the boy said he got it. Those thoughts were very distracting. Or maybe the other caught him staring when he was drinking?

"Well, yeah, a little. If there's something I did or whatever's bothering you, just say it, man." At least it would give them something to talk about, whatever was going through Dave's head. Chris had confided in him, which was not something he ever did; the least Dave could do was show him the same trust. Isn't that what friends did?

Chris got the feeling that maybe Dave was bored? Was that what it was? He wasn't all that accustomed to having someone over and didn't quite know how to entertain guests. He tapped his fingers against his empty glass as he tried to think up something to talk about or do.

"Uhh, you wanna game? Call of Duty?" Chris finally spoke up.

Dave thought he should probably loosen up, it looked like whatever he was doing subconsciously was making the other feel weirded out. And so he tipped back his cup, draining what remained of his drink. He could afford to get a little tipsy.

"Sure. Sounds fun." Dave said, setting his empty cup down.

Chris' eyes lit up. "That's better, jeez. Was beginning to think I was boring you or something. Keep up!"

"Dude, I am so gonna destroy you!" Chris taunted.

"Is that right? I'll make you eat those words." Dave quipped, his mouth contorting in an impish grin.

Chris set his empty cup on the coffee table in front of them before getting up from the sofa to set up the game. He didn't make it very far as he stumbled around the table only to trip over his own feet and knock his glass, the (sealed, thankfully) bottle of alcohol and himself onto the floor in the process.

"Shit, fuck, I'm alright, I'm good," his words slurring ever so slightly as he attempted to pick himself up from the floor.

Even as the seasoned drinker that he was, he was never very good at handling his alcohol and those four or five shots that he had rather quickly tossed back were beginning to take effect.

"Maybe you shouldn't have anymore to drink." Dave said in his own, slightly inebriated voice. The decent buzz he had going felt nice, and it wasn't hard for him to understand why some people enjoyed drinking so much. It was nearly euphoric.

"Need any help?" Dave asked, he started to lift himself up from the couch, only to discover he wasn't that better off than Chris. His legs felt like jelly, which was really interesting. He poked at his own uncooperative legs and tried to will them to move.

"Dude, I'm fine, really," Chris insisted; one hand on the sofa for support as he lifted himself back up. "I just need to sit down for a sec." He leaned his body back against the couch let out a defeated grunt. "I think I prolly drank that too fast." He giggled as he turned half-lidded eyes towards Dave.

Dave gave a short laugh of his own. "What?" His question was accompanied by another chuckle.

"We will get to that game eventually, I swear. And then, then you are so going down."

"No way, dude. I'm gonna wipe the floor with you." He grinned crookedly, mirroring the others look. Dave didn't bother to disguise his stare, watching the other openly. 'He's kinda cute.' He blinked in confusion. 'Wait. Can guys with goatees be cute? Or would hot be a better word to describe him ...?' Dave, in his drunken mind, was more concerned about whether he was using the right word to describe Chris, rather than the fact he was actually thinking about another man in this way.

Maybe it was the alcohol clouding his brain, but Chris found he really enjoyed just sitting there staring at Dave and it was becoming more difficult to take his eyes off the man, no matter how creepy he probably looked doing so.

Chris normally drank alone; it was his way of drowning out the deep depression that he hid so well, allowing him to forget, even if just for a couple of hours, how shitty his life truly was. But this time seemed different; he couldn't hold back that goofy grin and actually felt…happy. Giddy. He decided he ought to have this guy over more often to drink with.

"What? Yeah. Sure." He wasn't exactly listening to the other, more so just gawking at him like a damn weirdo; people did tend to just kind of stare off into nothing when they were drunk…right? But Dave was certainly not 'nothing'.

'I wonder how he looks without those goofy glasses…' Not that he looked bad with them, no; definitely no. 'He couldn't look bad even if he tried.'

Chris quickly darted his eyes away shyly at this last thought; confused and intoxicated, silently trying to blame these random, complicated thoughts on the alcohol. Unfortunately though, he wasn't completely shit-faced out of his head and really had nothing to blame for these feelings except his own, fairly sober, mind.

'Oh, God, what is wrong with me?!' Chris shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

'He's so fuckin hot…' There. In his mind, he said it. Done. Over with. Now back to just hanging out as friends and doing whatever the hell friends do…if that included ravaging each other's bodies until neither could take it anymore.

"Holy fuck! I- I need some water. You want some water? Yeah, you do, okay, I'll be right back." He didn't bother to wait for Dave's reply as he made all effort to stand and make his way out into the kitchen, half-leaning against the walls for support.

There was water in the fridge in his bedroom, but Chris just had to get out of that room.

"I'm gonna have more of that rum stuff while your gone." Dave called out, overall amused by Chris' not-at-all-strange outburst.

The bottle was still on the ground, and Dave managed to retrieve it with his foot without having to get up at all. He removed the lid and didn't bother to reach for his glass to pour it in. The cup was too far away in Dave's opinion; despite it being within closer proximity than the bottle originally was. He tipped his head back and took a long gulp of the intoxicating substance. It tasted different, stronger than his first glass of the stuff. 'Well duh. That one had coke in it.' He reminded himself. But his mind was so muddled that it was hard to even recall that bit of information. 'Meh...' He took another swig from the bottle.

A.N. - This is a roleplay between me and Jayden Blake. I play as Dave and Mindy. My amazingly talented partner acts as Chris, Frank, and Damon. Once again I'd like to point out that this is a slight AU. That means most of the events that occurred in both Kick-Ass 1 and 2 don't pertain to this plot. And be sure not to make any assumptions about the characters, and their back stories. In this fic, Chris doesn't know Dave is actually Kick Ass and the boys are 21.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kick-Ass nor do I make a profit from any of my stories.