It was pointless though, thought Peter. Just because Davy was attracted to one guy didn't mean he'd feel any attraction for others. That would be like assuming that a girl would respond favorably to a hug from any guy, just because she was straight. And anyone could tell you that wouldn't happen. So testing him would do no good, as Peter was not the one Davy was hung up on. So... back to square one.

When the hug ended, Davy lowered his head. Poor guy-he had no one to hold him and comfort him in his "hour of need," as Peter's mother would have put it. Davy's mother had been dead for seven years, and he wasn't dating anyone right now, so he was having to deal with this solely on his own. In addition to that, Peter supposed he was also feeling ashamed.

Maybe it was someone close to Davy! Someone that he didn't want Peter to know about because he was embarrassed...

That was why Peter had paused when Davy had said something about it not being wise for Peter to sit next to him. Why did Davy say that? Was the pent-up desire for this mystery guy have Davy so worked up that he... no, Peter realized Davy'd said that because he wouldn't want anyone at the park to get any ideas about the two of them.

Could it be... no... no way. Peter couldn't believe the thoughts that drifted in and out of his mind as it raced here and there. But he couldn't seem to tame those thoughts. He almost laughed out loud at the sheer absurdity. This was insane. But still... a nagging feeling was picking away at him. He was sure Davy didn't see anyone on a regular enough basis to develop feelings. Unless...was there any way it could be someone actually living under the same roof as Davy? One of the band members? No, that was totally crazy. Over the top. They were all friends-good friends. None of them were gay, or even bi, or at least he'd never gotten even a whiff of any of that from any of them.

Wrong-Davy had admitted he was attracted to a male. So, that meant Davy had to be bi, didn't it? Peter had seen Davy with enough girls to know he wasn't strictly gay. He'd also heard action in the bedroom on dozens of occasions.

Maybe just one guy did it for him? That was the most likely scenario. But still, that didn't answer the biggest question. Why? When Davy had always been such a ladies' man? Peter had to admit he'd also like to know who.

Peter dared to let his mind examine each band member mentally. He was almost afraid to, and chills snaked through his body at the thought. Could it possibly be Mike? When Davy cried out for help for any reason (like the time he got wedged between the bathtub and the wall, or the time he got stuck in the cupboard) it was most often for Mike. Well, really, they all cried out for Mike when in any kind of difficulty that they couldn't put to rights on their own, so that really wasn't a factor. Mike was the most mature one, the grounded one. The one they could all count on to keep his cool in a crisis.

They had more or less appointed Mike leader of the group almost right from the start. So naturally they would all think of him first when asking or, most often, screaming, for assistance when they couldn't get out of a bad situation. Peter was just as guilty of that as Davy. And he didn't feel anything at all for Mike except friendship and respect. And he'd never seen any questionable behavior or the slightest glimmer of desire for each other in either of the other two.

Micky? He and Davy got along splendidly, but again... Peter fancied himself pretty intuitive, and nothing had ever sparked any suspicions surrounding the two of them either.

Well now... there was no one left in the band... except him. And that, of course, would be beyond outlandish. They shared a room, and while they were not hesitant to display affection (in a masculine way), Peter knew without a doubt that he'd probably be the last guy Davy would have the hots for. If Davy were to go for another guy, reasoned Peter, it would be some drop dead gorgeous man in a suit who had his shit together.

Even though Davy and Peter kind of nestled up together on the couch at times, it was all so innocent and innocuous. It was often chilly in the house during winter, as Mr. Babbitt was stingy with the heat. So Peter and Davy sometimes huddled close with a blanket. Of course, that didn't explain why they did the same thing in summer. Even so, Davy had never insinuated in the least that he might be interested in Peter on a personal level. So... no doubt he could count himself out.

But who it was didn't really matter, Peter reminded himself. It was the fact that Davy was in a tough spot, and needed help. The question was, how could he help him? He felt like a cookie right now-a crumbling cookie. Useless. All his thoughts were jumbled. What had happened to the Davy he'd known and loved?

Nothing-he still loved him, and always would. And he'd stand by him through this personal hell Davy was facing, no matter what.

Up the stairs and into the bedroom they went, passing Mike and Micky lounging on the couch, nodding silent greetings, the Jack Daniels vapor invading the other two guys' nortrils as they breezed by.

Mike took a drag of the roach and passed it to Micky. "Uh-oh," said Mike. Someone's been drinking, and I think its David... Peter looks more than passably sober. And did you see how Davy took the stairs slower than usual?"

"Yeah, well. I'm not surprised. Remember what Peter said about Davy being hot for some girl."

"Oh, I didn't forget. David hasn't been himself since then."

"Well, maybe Peter can help him with this thing. You know how emphatic Peter is. Might be just what David needs right now."

Mike grunted his agreement.

Davy plopped down on his bed, his gait a little unsteady, but his thinking fairly clear. Well, maybe not completely clear. Perhaps a touch fuzzy around the edges.

Peter had only taken two or three good slugs just to passify Davy and keep the bottle away from him, but he did feel a tiny bit tipsy. Wow, either that Jack had been unusually potent, or it had been too long since he'd had hard liquor. But that was stupid. Wasn't every bottle of Jack exactly 80 proof?

As a rule, Peter did drink mainly beer, so he supposed it wasn't surprising. Nothing to worry about, in any case. All his senses were up to par and he merely felt a bit of extra warmth circulating in his body. He'd had just enough to feel slightly good. But god, the stuff had tasted like lighter fluid! It had burned all the way down, drinking it straight like that. How could Davy stomach a third of a bottle? The little Brit was tough... all the way through.

Davy startled Peter out of his musings. "Peter, can we talk about this... problem I have... again?" Davy was adamant that, come hell or high water, he was going to tell Peter today. He could no longer live like this. Better to be a bit buzzed than stone cold sober when he told Peter, so it may as well be now.

"Sure, babe. Maybe you shouldn't think of it... as a... problem." Peter didn't know if he'd said the right thing or not, but he wanted to put Davy as much at ease as possible. Be casual about it. He didn't want Davy to feel worse about himself than he obviously already did.

"Whew...that last slug might've been the line between buzzed and pickled ," said Davy, shaking his head slightly.

"You're fine. You're not even slurring. But if you'd had half a bottle, you'd have been hammered."

"Guess you got there just in time," Davy smiled, reflecting on how Peter was so reliable and dependable.

Peter reclined on his bed, propped up on an elbow, and facing Davy on his own bed, attempting to appear as non-threatening as possible. "Okay, whenever you're ready, let me have it," he said, purposefully nonchalant.

Davy somehow wished Peter hadn't worded it quite like that.

"Well, um... I don't think I can do it, Peter. Tell you who it is... that is."

"The most important thing is helping you. I don't see that it matters so much who it is."

"Oh yes, it does. It matters a lot. More than you know."

"Then its someone we both know?"

"Uh, yeah..."

"I've wracked my brains, and can't think of a single person it might be."

Right under his nose, thought Davy. Right under his nose, and Peter had no idea-not even the slightest clue. He found himself not concentrating so much on himself now; being more concerned with how Peter was going to take the news.

"Peter... this person... means the world to me. He's a very dear friend."

Well, that was a bit of a shocker, since the guys had lots of casual friends, but the only really close friends they had were each other.

"Gotta admit, David... you have me totally perplexed. The only people we're really close to is... each other."

Davy nodded, feeling as things were in slow motion, forcing himself to meet and keep Peter's gaze. It wasn't the booze, it was his tormented state of mind.

Pure silence filled the room like a ghost, or smoke, or the top of a very tall mountain covered in pristine snow.

"David..." This came out of Peter's mouth after what seemed an eternity of silence. He couldn't seem to form any more words.

"This is bloody awful, Pete," Davy sounded like he might break down.

"Its alright. You're doing fine. Which is it, Mick or Mike?"

Davy swallowed. "This will be too hard for you, Pete."

"I can take it. I just don't know how Mick or Mike will take it, but we can tell them together, if you want. I won't abandon you... at a time like this."

Davy knew Peter wouldn't abandon him at any time, but he didn't voice it.

"It isn't Micky or Mike! Oh god..."

Peter just stared at him. At first, his mind couldn't grasp what Davy had just said. The thought lurking just underneath was slippery, like a raw oyster. He must surely have misunderstood the strongest hint he'd ever heard in his life. If it wasn't Micky or Mike, then... his mind refused to embrace it.

Realization did dawn on Peter, but very slowly. Like a cloud, it drifted insidiously closer, curling and swirling, eventually enveloping him. In the meantime, Davy just said there watching all the myriad of emotions wash over Peter's cherished face. Peter's expression was like a book-the cover slowly opening to reveal the contents. The shocked, horrified contents. Davy wasn't sure where it was going until he saw the fear...

Peter was frightened-probably more frightened than he'd ever been in his life. Davy-his dear friend, the one he'd looked up to and admired for so long. The one he loved to watch play the tambourine, marveling at how much of an expert he'd become through sheer tenacity, admiring Davy's style, his class, his determination, the way he'd made up his own unique little dance, the way he laughed-it being impossible not to laugh along with him because it was so contagious.

Davy had been a jockey, handling a 1200 pound speed crazed animal with no fear, but rather, gusto. Davy was street wise. Could hold his own, despite his size. He was the fastest runner Peter had ever known. He lifted weights-he proved himself capable of so many things that most people of normal stature wouldn't even attempt to do. He was a little dynamo who didn't seem to know the meaning of the word "can't."

But so much more than all that, it was the heart Davy possessed that had won Peter over almost from the day they'd met. Davy would do anything for a friend. He'd crawl on his knees across a desert if you needed his assistance, he'd be there for you no matter what kind of crime you'd committed, no matter how much a fool you'd made of yourself, he'd still stand up proudly and proclaim you as his friend.

Peter not only admired Davy, as that was too weak of a word. He adored him. He cherished his friendship. He'd never admitted these things in so many words to anyone, and hardly even to himself, but now...this Davy that he so admired was attracted to him?

It was surreal, and Peter felt numb and boneless. He flopped over onto his back, covering his eyes with his forearm. How could this possibly be true? He knew now, in this instant, that for such a long time he'd been denying just how much he really cared for Davy.

Davy didn't say a word. He knew Peter needed time. He understood Peter had to feel like a bolt of lightning had hit him. The fear was cold and forbidding, and Davy could almost feel it from several feet away. Peter was a block of ice right now, but Davy was hoping he'd begin to melt soon and at least be able to discuss it.

Suddenly, Peter was on Davy's bed with him, sitting beside him. Holding him... tightly and with an undertone of... what? Desperation. Desperation to make Davy feel better.

"For god's sake, David! Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Peter's voice had a pleading quality to it that told Davy all he needed to know. Peter wasn't afraid anymore. He wasn't angry or upset either, even though Davy knew Peter would never thrust either of those last two emotions at him. Peter was just too understanding and compassionate. Peter was solid.

"I couldn't, Pete...I tried for the longest time to tell you... but every time I thought I was finally going to do it... I lost my nerve."

"It doesn't matter now anyway... now I know-that's the important thing." They sat there silently holding each other, Peter's lips right up against Davy's neck. Not kissing, not moving. Just pressed up against his neck. Clinging. Accepting.

"Wow, I really thought you'd... freak out," murmured Davy after a while.

"Oh, I guess I did... a mini freak-out. But it didn't last long. What I don't understand...at all...is...why."

"Why? Why? Peter, do you think you're not worthy or something?"

"But why me?"

"Because you're Peter. Everything you are, and everything you stand for. I think the world of you. And sometimes... I guess...other feelings can follow that."

"But I've always looked up to you," Peter tried to explain.

"Well then... I guess we just admire each other," a soft smile touched Davy's lips.

"I'm sorry I gobsmacked you with it though," Davy apologized.

"Gobsmacked?"

"Sorry... English slang. I dumbfounded you is what it means. I didn't mean to shock you, but there was really no other way to tell you. I didn't know how to soften the blow."

"I'm just so glad you did. All this time... I couldn't figure out for the life of me who it might be. Then, when we started talking... I realized it must be another member of the band. But I never dreamed it might be me."

They had shifted somewhat, and Peter ended up with his head in Davy's lap. All very innocent. Peter on his back, Davy brushing the hair out of his eyes and smiling.

"Know how long I've wanted to do this?" Davy asked softly.

"No..."

"Forever."

Peter smiled, and his dimple made Davy's chest feel like it was expanding with... what? Emotions. Really strong emotions...

"Why'd I have to get shit faced... to tell you this?"

"David, you're NOT shit faced. You're just a little buzzed. Just right, I'd say, for me to take advantage of you," Peter laughed good naturedly.

"So you...?" Davy didn't have the nerve to ask what he wanted to.

"I don't know, David... I've never been... in a situation anything like... this before. But I know you want honesty, so I'll be frank and tell you that I think... I'm completely straight."