Visions of Peter dancing in his head. Way better than Christmas Eve...

It was time to get up, but Davy didn't want to. He wanted to linger in bed, as when he was half asleep he could let his mind wander, and he didn't feel quite so guilty about where it went.

Peter was up and trying to wake him. "We gotta go to practice, David."

Right then, his half-asleep dream consisted of holding hands with Peter-well more than holding hands. More like caressing hands. So when Peter shook his shoulder gently, Davy reached up and took Peter's hand in his. Then, realizing it wasn't in fact a dream, instantly yanked it away as if he'd grabbed onto a red hot poker.

But he didn't pull away quickly enough for Peter to notice, and feel what Davy had been doing, however briefly, to his hand. His fingertips had rubbed the top of Peter's hand lightly as he held it, sensuously, much like he would a girlfriend's hand. Only Davy didn't like girls anymore.

Why had Davy taken ahold of Peter's hand like that? Peter imagined Davy had been mostly asleep when it happened, so it was no big deal. Maybe he'd been dreaming about a girl... uh-oh, that was right. Davy didn't like girls anymore.

Davy's hand had been warm and it had felt good. More supportive than a girl's hand-stronger and more confident. Masterful, yet the touch was sweet, gentle. Peter shook his head abruptly. Why was he even thinking about this? Creepy...

After a long day of practice, Peter reclined in his bed, his mind churning. He had been wondering who this guy was that Davy had spoken of being attracted to ever since they had talked about it. He couldn't think of a single person that might be a possibility. Certainly not Mr. Babbit. Certainly not anyone at the grocery store they frequented, or any other place of business he could think of. Maybe someone Davy'd met in a club? But no... they didn't usually talk a lot to other guys, mostly to each other and girls. After all, listening to the music and girls were the main reason they went to a club to begin with. Well, it used to be the main reason. Until Davy lost his interest.

Now when anyone suggested going out on the town, Davy had this odd look on his face. Sort of like he felt like he didn't fit in. Lost. With no compass.

"Man, you're uptight, and I don't like it," Peter confronted Davy when Davy came up the stairs for the night.

"You're an observant one, you are."

Peter smiled again at Davy's expression. So English- like. Why did he find that so damn cute? Whoops, gotta put a stop to that "cute" word. The others always snickered when he used it. But in truth there was really no other way of describing it.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"We already have, and got nowhere."

"We got nowhere because you refused to talk any more about it," Peter reminded him.

"My hands are tied-I can't talk about it. It just too... weird."

Peter could dig that. After all, he'd be mortified if he were attracted to another guy. He had to hand it to Davy for admitting it to him. It must have been rough.

"I could tell Audrey didn't do it for you either...plus you ended up taking her home early too."

"Again, you're an observant son of a bitch."

"Nasty-mean and nasty, you are. How'd ya like that? Did I say it "English" enough?" Peter teased.

Davy cracked a smile against his will. Peter could at times be annoying, but he also had a way of cheering you up with his shenanigans. He was mischievious and he could poke fun at you in such an inoffensive way. He effortlessly turned things around so that you didn't look foolish. Even when yoiu deserved to look foolish. Yes, Peter was fully capable of charming you right out of your funk. It wasn't something he forced either-it was inborn, natural.

"What'm I gonna do, Pete?"

No one had to enlarge on that.

Peter chose his words carefully.

"I've been thinking, and... we really do need to come up with a plan of some sort. I don't really need to know who it is... that won't solve anything. But we've gotta figure out how to make things better for you... get you back to the way you were before."

Poor Peter. Wide eyed, innocent Peter. If only Davy had the backbone to tell him.

Peter got to the park exactly at the appointed time-3pm. Davy had asked him to meet him there, as there was rarely any privacy at home. And it would seem strange if they were both in the bedroom on a Sunday afternoon. Davy didn't want Mike and Micky to develop any suspicions. That was the very last thing he needed right now.

Davy had gotten to the park early, and he'd finished nearly a third of a fifth of Jack Daniels by the time Peter arrived.

Peter took one look at the bottle on the picnic table and shook his head in disbelief. He sat down across from Davy.

"How long have you been here?"

"I dunno. I think since about one."

"Well, I guess that's not too bad then," Peter said, referring to the amount of alcohol Davy had consumed. Davy could hold his liquor fairly well for a guy of his size and weight. He wasn't a heavy drinker, but he wasn't a stranger to it either, of course. And over a two hour period a third of a fifth wouldn't necessarily make him drunk-but he was nearing his limit. If he kept drinking it, that story could potentially change quickly.

Peter was right-Davy wasn't drunk-just a little tight-buzzed. He needed to talk to Peter, and he hadn't had the balls to do it without some help.

Peter had made up his mind before he even came that he would not hound Davy about who the guy was that had caught his fancy. It was irrelevant anyway. He would just listen to what Davy had to say-let him vent or whatever it was he needed, as his friend was obviously in need of emotional support. Peter liked to think he made a good security blanket.

"Why here, and not the beach?"

"Don't wanna get busted for drinking in public."

"This park is public."

"Beach is worse-more people." That was true.

Davy wasn't slurring his words. Nor was he acting out of character at all. Even with the booze in his system, he was showing signs of nervousness. As far as Peter could tell, it hadn't really loosened him up much.

"Things seem to be turning sour."

"Yeah, I've never seen you like this."

"I need to talk to you... I'm closer to you than anyone else. But at the same time, I'm not happy with the subject matter."

That went without saying, thought Peter. He, of course, knew what the subject matter consisted of. And he couldn't do a damn thing to help Davy, no matter how much he wanted to. Not unless Davy opened up enough to allow him to help. Or try to help.

Davy took a slug from the bottle. "Whoa there, fella. You'll get sloppy drunk if you drink much more of that." Peter took the bottle away from him, and Davy sent him razor sharp darts of warning from those sparkly brown eyes of his.

"Tis my bottle," Davy said. "I can do with it what I want. Unless you want to share."

Peter figured the worst of two evils was to let Davy continue drinking it until he was three sheets to the wind. The lesser of two evils was for Peter to share it. So he took a slug, even though he didn't really want to.

"There...happy?"

Davy shrugged. "I guess."

"I've never seen you this apathetic. I'm here David... I'm here. You know me...I won't judge you."

It was true. Davy hadn't known Peter to judge hardly anyone, unless it was something really, really bad. Like abusing kids or animals, or hurting someone else's feelings. Things such as those Peter couldn't and wouldn't tolerate. But Davy knew for a fact Peter wasn't judging him for feeling this strange "attraction." Even though Peter didn't know it was him-the most important component. And that was precisely what concerned Davy the most. Peter might flip if he knew he was on the receiving end of Davy's affections. He could be unjudgemental now, but would he remain that way if he knew the whole truth?

"In a way, I'm creeped out. That is, a big way."

"Well, I would think that would be natural... until you got used to it, that is." Peter was trying so hard to be careful with what came out of his mouth. One wrong move and he feared Davy would draw into his shell and snap it shut. Or become a snapping turtle again.

Peter had brought his bass along, and now he was glad he had. It always seemed to soothe Davy, relax and put him into a receptive, mellow state of mind. He strummed it softly now.

Wrong thing to do! Davy noticed Peter sometimes stuck his tongue out just a little bit when concentrating on his playing. He was doing that now, and that was not something Davy needed to to be seeing! It was too friggin' sexy! And his hair falling into his eyes... Damn it, here Peter was, trying to help him, and he was only tempting Davy more! But how was Peter to know that? Davy had to remind himself that unless he was totally honest with him, Peter couldn't be expected to know about Davy's...urges.

The booze wasn't helping anything. It wasn't even dulling his senses. All it did was make him hyper aware of Peter's presence. He was also getting emotional, which was exactly what he didn't want. Lust was one thing, and hard enough to deal with all by itself. But emotions such as tender, fond feelings could get a person in really deep shit.

"Want me to sit beside you?" Peter... innocent Peter said this because, to him, it seemed reasonable. A friend in crisis needs comfort, so why wouldn't you offer to support them with your physical presence?

Davy cleared his throat. "Might not be wise," he said. He wondered if Peter would pick up on the cryptic meaning.

"Emotional support is good." Immediately after saying that, Peter paused, and his face changed the slightest bit. The average person wouldn't even notice it, but Davy did. Peter's brow had wrinkled slightly and he'd stopped all motion for an instant, as if he'd felt a mild shock.

But Peter recovered remarkably fast. "Why wouldn't it be wise?"

If Davy hadn't seen Peter's reaction a moment ago, he would have thought this was just another question from the ever-curious Peter. But somehow he knew it wasn't. He sensed there might be an underlying element. Peter could be trying to process, home in on some kind of clue from Davy. Davy wondered if Peter suspected...

But that, of course, could all be Davy's imagination.

"Because I'm so distressed about this that I might haul off and give you a Manchester kiss." Davy got out of that one, whew! Then again, maybe not. Peter's scrutinizing gaze told him that might not be the case. But Davy wasn't sure how much of this was just paranoia on his part. Peter was certainly studying him though.

Peter shrugged his shoulders and went back to playing his bass. God, it sounded good. It sounded sexy.

Peter looked up suddenly at someone walking by. His eyes followed whoever it was for a few seconds, then he went back to playing. Davy looked over his shoulder to see who he'd been looking at. A girl. Jealousy struck like a cobra then. Lightning quick, sharp and stinging. Before Davy could even try for a defense. He was astonished. He was actually jealous because Peter had looked at a girl!

This idea of drinking Jack had been a big mistake-Davy saw that now. He didn't have the courage to tell Peter even now, so he'd might as well forget trying when he was sober. It would never happen. He guessed he'd have to live the rest of his life like this-asexual. Or at least appearing that way to everyone but Peter. Because Peter knew the truth-he just didn't know the most important element of the truth.

Why subject Peter to this anyway? It was his problem, not Peter's. Peter had never done anything to make Davy think he felt that way about him. So why traumatize someone who didn't need complications thrust on him? Why traumatize him more than he already had? No, he couldn't do that to Peter.

Can't drink him off of my mind, thought Davy. It was true. Booze wasn't helping, so what else could he do but avoid Peter? Not right now though. Right now he was gonna drink some more.

"Gimme that bottle," he said, his accent thicker than ever.

"You've had enough, David."

Davy snatched the bottle and took a deep drink. Peter snatched it right back, the velocity of his grab causing some of the liquor to spill onto the top of the picnic table, pool on the top, then drip over the side right onto Davy's lap.

Davy jumped up in horror, madly swiping at his pants. "Good one, Peter! Now it looks like I peed my pants!"

Peter put his hand over his eyes, then mouth, trying not to laugh. Wow, catastrophe of the year! Davy got something on his clothes!

"Come on, let's go back to the Monkeemobile. You did walk here, right?" Peter asked, scanning the parking lot.

"Yeah." The park was only half a mile from the pad.

"I can't drink it off my mind," Davy said, repeating his earlier thoughts out loud.

"That sounds familiar somehow..." Peter shrugged. "And you're right-it'll still be there tomorrow."

As they walked, Peter dumped the now half empty bottle of Jack into a trash can. Davy didn't object. Peter slipped his arm around Davy's shoulder to steady him. Davy wasn't feeling drunk, just buzzed. But no way was he telling Peter that, because then he'd take his arm away.

They got to the Monkeemobile, and then Peter did something totally unexpected. He pulled Davy into a hug.

"I'm here for you, man. No matter what. I know you're going through a lot of stress right now, and I want you to know you can always come to me."

God, the wonder of Peter's embrace! Davy didn't want him to let go. He held Peter tight-something more than lust clawing at his gut and heart. Something he didn't want to examine too closely.

Peter allowed Davy to cling to him. He sure was fond of him, and he felt good in his arms. He told himself that the reason the hug lasted so long was because he assumed Davy was drunk. But that wasn't the entire truth. In a way, Peter supposed he was testing Davy...