Only the original characters and the situations belong to me. The rest is Diane Duane's. *points* And if you haven't read her work go do it and stop reading fanfictions for it now!

Chapter 5: Ouch

The good part about staying behind after class, Tom mused, was that bullies were less likely to be roaming the—

"Hey, gay boy!"

Well that was just great. Not only was he emotionally unstable from that unexpected and rather upsetting encounter with his physics teacher, but his biggest tormenter had stuck around in the halls to make sure he got his daily quota of torture. Clearly the universe hated him.

Suddenly it was too much. He couldn't stand there and take the abuse without retaliating just a little bit, even if it came back to bite him later. "Yes, dirt-for-brains?" he replied coldly, continuing to walk towards his locker.

He could almost feel Jacob Grogan's sneer at his back as he passed him. "Well well well. Looks like the little faggot's grown a spine after all."

The purely analytical part of Tom's mind marveled at how quickly anger, both fiery and ice-cold, consumed him. He stopped walking. His hands balled into fists. "Don't call me that."

"Aw, why shouldn't I tell the little fag what he is? It's not like I'm wrong!"

The freshman spun slowly on his heel, eyes smoldering. "Do you know what you're actually saying?" he asked, his voice deadly soft.

Grogan smirked. "That you like to suck cock and take it up the ass?"

Tom's mind filed that away as one of the few things Jacob Grogan ever said that might be even occasionally true before he continued to talk in that quiet, calm, dangerous voice. "A faggot, according to the dictionary, is a bundle of sticks. And Jacob, do you know how a bundle of sticks got to be related to homosexuality? I'll assume you don't, because you have demonstrated to me that you have the mental capacity and interest in etymology of an earthworm." Tom began to stalk towards the bully with an almost feline grace brought about by his cold fury. "In days of yore, homosexuality was punishable by death. The officials would make these homosexuals go out and gather bundles of sticks, or faggots. And do you know why? Do you know why, Jacob Grogan?" The smaller boy was now inches away from the football player's face. His voice had gone from deceptively soft to a sibilant hiss. "Because we were gathering our own firewood to be burned at the stake."

Grogan took an involuntary step back, shocked by his would-be victim's actions. Then he realized what he'd done and sneered triumphantly. "So you admit it! You are gay!"

Tom looked at him as if he'd grown eyestalks from his nose. Then he let out a peal of hysterical laughter, high and mocking and disbelieving. "You really are an idiot," he said. "Guess the fact that I never denied it didn't quite sink in, huh?" More laughter bubbled from his mouth, accompanied by the tears he hadn't shed just a few minutes ago.

The bully's face contorted into an expression of hatred. He took the smaller boy by the shoulders and slammed him into the lockers. "Thanks for the history lesson, fag," he said viciously, digging his thumbs where they would cause the most pain. "You and all of your kind should burn at the stake. Then after that you'll burn in Hell, where you belong."

"What have I ever done to you?" Tom screamed in his face. "Why do you hate me so much?"

"My brother was raped by your kind," he muttered fiercely. "He was thirteen. He's never been the same. He's always terrified of everything. I have to stop you before you start fancying little boys like the pervert you are."

Tom was dumbfounded for a full ten seconds, during which Jacob proceeded to slam him into the wall. Out of instinct he hunched his shoulders and made sure his head didn't hit the lockers. Then when he could speak, he said in the same tone of voice, "Oh, because that makes sense! I was threatened to death by a straight and his cronies! I'm fourteen! So I guess the only logical way to react is to hate all straights and wish for them all to die..."

This made Jacob Grogan stop short and even loosen his grip, though he didn't let go. His mouth worked as he tried to find an answer. Tom held his breath, hoping to be released. Then the bully scowled darkly and tightened his hands again. "Maybe I just don't like you."

"Jacob Grogan. Get your hands off me. Now." Tom had tears of pain streaming down his face, but his voice was completely flat and emotionless.

"Or you'll what, little queer?"

Instead of answering, he aimed a false kick at the older boy's groin. When Grogan let go to protect it, Tom tried to dart out, but failed. He was trapped.

"Mr. Swale, Mr. Grogan, what is going on here?" came a voice Tom was extremely glad to hear. Jacob Grogan turned around and caught sight of Mr. Kolibri's icy glare. Tom noticed that his eyes were rimmed with red and felt a pang of guilt for having inadvertently caused him to cry, but he was too relieved to let it affect him too much.

"Tom! Tom! Grogan, just leave him alone, I warned you..." Carl's voice, then the boy himself, came down the long hallway. Both stopped abruptly as the sophomore saw that there was already a teacher on the scene.

"Mr. Grogan. This is a very serious offense. You are therefore suspended until further notice."

"But Mr. Kolibri..."

"Silence, Jacob, or I'll expel you on the spot!" Never had any of them seen the laid-back, easygoing teacher so angry. "You will come with me. Carl, make sure Tom isn't badly hurt, then take him home." The physics teacher marched the bully away, his normally kind eyes as hard as flint.

The two boys stared at each other for a few seconds, both breathing heavily. Then Tom started trembling and very slowly slid into a crumpled heap on the floor.

"Tom?" Carl asked, alarmed. He had felt the fear, the panic, the anger over their swiftly developing mental link, and it had been worse than ever before, but somehow he'd never expected Tom to break down. He'd always been strong. Never let it get to him. But here he was, shaking like a leaf and...was he crying? "Tom, Tom...easy now. It's okay, it's over. Shh, you're okay." Carl went over to his friend and hugged him soothingly until the shudders stopped and his breathing slowed.

In an attempt to regain his composure, Tom said in a feebly dry voice, "Well, that'll be sore tomorrow..."

Carl started and guiltily loosened his embrace, then backed away altogether. "Let's see what he did to you."

Tom tried to shrug it off. "I really don't think..."

"Dammit, Tom," Carl said, his voice sharp with frustration, which made the freshman flinch. He felt bad, but continued. "Come on. Kolibri said to see how bad you were hurt. I'm your friend. I also learned a couple of healing spells."

Tom sighed. "Badly, not bad... Okay, you win. Just...I bruise easily, so it probably looks worse than...yeah." He stood and peeled off his shirt, dropping it on the floor and facing away from his friend.

"Jesus, Tom," Carl whispered with a sharp intake of breath. Tom's back was patterned with red, purple, and blue, with several mostly healed but still greenish and yellow splotches near the bottom. His upper back, though, was the worst, as it was swiftly darkening into several ugly colors, and swelling to boot.

"I didn't know I was that attractive," joked the injured boy, regaining some of his mischievous sense of humor.

Carl merely shook his head and pulled out his Manual. He knew this could hurt. He also knew that he didn't want his best friend to walk around with that much bleeding under the skin. "Okay," he said, suddenly nervous. "It might hurt a little, at first. And I won't be able to get all of them, just the really bad ones. But it'll be better than it is. Okay?"

Tom nodded, giving him permission to heal the worst of his bruises. He really didn't want his back to be immobile the next day.

"Okay," Carl said again to himself. Then he started to chant in the Speech, tracing his right hand lightly on the darkest bruises.

He was right. It did hurt. Not unbearably, but enough that he had to stop himself from protesting. But it also felt better than before, simply because the healing was warm, and he really hadn't been looking forward to sleeping with ice packs on his shoulders. It was also nice, his hormones informed him, that the hand was brushing so lightly against his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake...

No, he told himself firmly, even as his breath involuntarily hitched as his friend finished the minor healing.

"Sorry," Carl said, misunderstanding the reaction. "You okay? The bruises've gone down. Did it hurt?"

"Only a little," Tom answered, then thought over it again. "Well...maybe a little more than a little. But it wasn't too bad. And that feels better now." He rolled his shoulders experimentally and winced. "Yeah. A lot better than it was before." The freshman turned a little towards his wizarding partner and smiled in gratitude, reaching for the shirt he had dropped. Then he frowned at Carl's expression. "What're you...oh."

There were more bruises on Tom's front, including a large, though fading, one on his ribs where Grogan had hurt him a couple of weeks earlier. The most prominent ones, however, were ugly ones beginning to show on and just beneath his collarbones, where the bully's thumbs had dug. They were worse than even the ones on his back had been; the skin here was thinner and more delicate, and spread over only a small surface area. "I can't do another healing like that, Tom," Carl said regretfully, reaching out a hand to lightly trace the bruise. "But I think I can still muster up the strength to kill Grogan."

Tom's breathing hitched and he closed his eyes.

"Sorry, didn't mean to hurt you," Carl told him, lessening the pressure and going to the bruise on the other side. "Just trying to figure out how bad these really are."

"It didn't hurt," his friend said in a strange voice, putting his hands on his hips and squeezing the bones tightly, eyes still closed.

"Oh, okay. Good." Carl ran his thumb over the swelling, trying to gauge how much he should make Jacob Grogan suffer before he killed him.

Tom's breath hitched again, then he whimpered a little.

"Thought you said it didn't hurt," Carl Romeo said, looking at the slightly less angry-looking purple splotches above the bone.

"I assure you, it doesn't hurt. It feels good. Too good, in fact. I promise you, if you keep doing that, soon you're going to end up getting soundly kissed."

Carl stilled his hand and looked confused. "W-what?"

The freshman muttered a strangled "Jesus, that's even worse." Then slightly louder, and still without opening his eyes: "I'll explain. Just back up a step or three and st-stop touching me, please."

His friend complied, still confused and looking a little hurt.

He waited for his breathing to regulate itself before speaking. The words came out in a rush, but were all surprisingly clearly spoken. "I am a gay male teenager. I am standing shirtless while my attractive, male best friend, whom I like and trust, is caressing my back and neck. My hormones are telling me to jump your bones. And while I'm sure I'd find the willpower to stop before then..." He trailed off and opened his eyes to see a rather uncomfortable-looking Carl staring back at him. Tom shook his head wonderingly. "You really didn't figure that out? Not at all?" He put his shirt back on, hiding the discolored patches of skin from view.

The sophomore shook his head, abashed, then quickly changed the subject. "Mr. Kolibri looked really upset. Not just angry-upset, but he looked like he'd been crying. D'you know what happened? Didn't you just have physics with him?"

Tom was just as glad as his friend was to change the topic of conversation. "Actually, yes, on both counts." The two started walking towards Tom's locker.

"You planning on telling me?"

"Yeah. Um...it's kind of odd and kind of sad. Alright, very sad."

"I'm not that dense. He was crying, after all."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. Well anyway. He told me to stay after class, and then he told me he wanted me to know I could talk to him about anything. He left clues here and there to say he was a wizard, then he called me 'cousin;' I asked him about it and he confirmed it."

"Really? Interesting."

"Yeah. Then I mentioned our thought-sharing thing, and he...well..."

"What?"

Tom took a deep breath and told Carl about what had happened to Mary, then explained what the teacher had told him about partners and intimate relationships.

"That's awful," he whispered.

"Yeah. I know. So...that's why I stood up to Grogan. And why he beat me up today. I was kind of on edge from that, and from wondering...wondering about..." The freshman made a vague gesture with his hand. "You know."

His partner nodded somberly. "Hey, if you die on me, I'll kill you," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Sure you don't want to try the Disney method?" Tom was wearing a wicked grin before he drew his lips into an exaggerated pucker.

Carl stuck his tongue out. "You wish."

Tom Swale spared him a surreptitious, sidelong glance and was surprised and slightly alarmed at how true he found his friend's words to be.

Again, thank you for being patient with me! Also, please don't hurt me for making all the emotion changes so fast. But I gave Tom a backbone! *is proud of self* Not my favorite chapter, especially since I only worked on it in a few hours. But I enjoyed writing it. I wanted to put in that little etymological gem about the word "faggot" in there. Please reconsider using that word. Thanks everyone!