When Murtagh woke up, it was because the sun was cooking his eyeballs. He was laying in a pretty big bed. The sheets were soft and worn cotton and the cover was just heavy enough. The walls in his room painted a dark, but intense green, with black tribal patterns ghosting along the roof and in the corners. Murtagh stared at the pattern in fascination. It was quite captivating. They seemed to be moving on their own.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position to look around the room. Aside from the bed, wardrobe, empty bookshelf and a desk, the room was bare. Murtagh complimented the green colour, seeing as it was his favourite one.

He was still dressed in his tee and his boxers, something he was glad for. He didn't want his father to see the hideous scar on his upper body just yet. He wanted him to think of him as undamaged goods as long as possible.

He located his jeans on the chair by the desk and got out of the bed to get them. He startled as he felt the soft carpeting on the floor and looked down to find that his toes were buried in a soft, black, slightly furry fabric. Even though the Morzansons had been fairly rich, they had not been nice. The only things Murtagh owned were his guitar, his ipod and some clothes. Scratch that, the only things Murtagh owned was his clothes as Morzan, his previous foster father had smashed his guitar and stepped on his iPod.

Murtagh stuck his head out the door, curious of what he would see. The floors were made of dark wood, like in his room, wherever the carpet didn't cover it. He padded quietly into the kitchen, which was pretty big if you considered that it was joined with the sitting room. Murtagh grinned slightly. It was a bachelors pad. That much was for sure. He liked it. He really did. It was made out of dark wood, heavy furniture and the counter top in the kitchen was made out of black stone. He could not remember what it was called, but it was very masculine, but not over the top. He could picture a woman standing there, easily.

"Sleep well?" Billy asked as he saw his son enter the kitchen.

"Yeah – can't remember coming up though."

"Carried you." He replied shortly, "Eat up." He nodded towards a steaming plate of pancakes.

Murtaghs mouth watered and he slid into the chair and attacked the pancakes in a way only a starving teenager could.

Billy quirked a smile at the young boy, thinking that this should not have been the first time he saw his son eat. He would not claim to be a good cook, but after being on his own for god only knew how many years, he made it by. The boy had a healthy appetite, which he was happy for, because he was far to light. Had he bothered, Billy didn't think he'd have too much trouble actually carrying the teen up the six floors instead of taking the lift. Though, he supposed that it wasn't really going to change. He had been light as a feather as a teenager as well. The boy would fill out like he had.

Seeing Murtagh nibble on a piece of pancake, while gazing at him curiously, Billy was struck by how much his son looked like Nick. Just the way his smooth dark hair fell down on his brow jolted memories that made Billy's once stone cold heart ache.

--

"What are you looking at?" Billy asked his boyfriend.

"You." Nick replied and rested his head on his hand as he watched Billy doing his homework, his fringe falling into his face. The way his tongue would swipe over his lips what he was concentrating was sending small jolts through his groin.

"You look like you want to eat me." Billy pointed out.

Nick smirked and Billy's expression blanked out. Suddenly the teen scramble from the bed, and Nick leaped after him, catching him within a split second. They landed heavily on the floor, knocking the breath out of the slight teen as he got the 20 pounds heavier hockey player on top of him. Nick hummed and caught Billy's lips and nibbled on them. Billy mewled contently and wrapped himself around his boyfriend, enjoying the delicious friction between their bodies.

--

"What are you thinking about?" Murtagh asked.

"You." Billy replied honestly. Well, partially honestly. He wasn't about to tell him that he was thinking about how he almost got conceived.

"Why- ?" Murtagh was interrupted by a bussing sound.

Billy groaned, "Not even ten in the morning and someone's bothering me already – on a fucking Sunday!" he growled.

Murtagh giggled. He didn't quite know why. Billy seemed like the kind of guy you didn't want to be around when he was pissed, yet, Murtagh somehow knew that no matter how violate a temper he had, he would never hurt him. During the years of his life, Murtagh had developed a good, but slightly cynic, judge of character.

Billy leaned out the window to see who was there, rather, who's car was there. "What the fuck is she doing here…?" he said to himself. "Fucking bitch wont leave me alone…"

"Y'know, I don't think I'm going to develop any kind of respect towards women if you keep talking like that." Billy heard the grave voice of his son say. He turned to the teen, only to see an amused smile on his face.

Billy snorted, "Okay, just so we have it straight, you treat all women with respect, the exceptions are of course the ones who don't deserve it." he growled.

"And this one don't?"

"I'll be six feet deep before – "

"Before what Darley?" came an obviously tense voice came from the door.