A/N: Hey again. Here's the next chapter. Hope you like it. (Two more, then the epilogue) Thank you, as always to everyone still reading this, and reviewers, you're the best.

...

He woke up with his head threatening to explode. Even the slightest movement made him groan in agony. Shit, why had he drunk so much last night?

Oh yeah. Because he'd been pissed at Peyton. He was still pissed at her.

Water. He needed water. That was the only reason he strained to open his eyes, otherwise, he'd be quite happy to stay right where he was.

He was on the couch at the beach house, he noticed. How had he gotten back here? And why the hell wasn't he sleeping in his bed?

"Hey," he heard a soft voice. Peyton. She held a glass of water with ice out to him. "Figured you'd probably need this," she said, holding it out. "And these," she added, dropping two Tylenols into his open palm.

"Thanks," he said, his voice hoarse.

He swallowed the pills down and then emptied the remainder of the glass, save the ice cubes, into his dry, scratchy throat before giving it back to her.

"You want more?" she asked, surprised he didn't start crunching on the ice as he usually would.

He shook his head. Big mistake. Damn it, he was never drinking again, he silently vowed, lying back down.

"You're going back to sleep?" she questioned. "It's almost two in the afternoon."

"Whatever," he mumbled in returned. "I'm sick."

She almost laughed. "Hung-over," she corrected.

"Same difference."

She took in his haggard appearance and shook her head. They needed to talk, but clearly that would have to wait until later. "Listen," she said. "Haley and Lucas are making brunch. You should probably get up and eat something. Soak up some of that alcohol."

"Not hungry," he muttered into the cushion he used as a pillow.

"I didn't ask if you're hungry," Peyton pointed out. "I said you should eat."

"Later."

She shook her head again. "Fine," she replied dully and then brought his empty glass into the kitchen where Haley and Lucas were making Karen's delicious—according to them—Mac 'n Cheese recipe. She asked how long before it was ready and was told about half an hour.

She returned to the living room to find Nathan already looking quite comfy. "Ok, you got ten minutes," she told her boyfriend, who only grunted in response. Yeah, they'd said half an hour, but in Nathan's shape, it would take him at least ten minutes just to sit up, and another ten to drag his ass off the couch.

He groaned in complaint as his temples continued to throb and his stomach threatened to expel everything in it—last night's embellishments and even the water he'd just drank. There was no way he could handle food right now, no matter how nice it was of Lucas and Haley to cook for them.

He flopped back down on the pillow, and closed his eyes, one hand over his face to block the irritating sunlight. Peyton rolled her eyes, but nonetheless left him right where he was.

Brunch was tastier than she'd expected, but it was probably a good thing Nathan slept through it. Mac 'n Cheese certainly wouldn't be his choice of lunch menu. All the better for her because that meant the three of them could share Nathan's portion.

Amazingly he slept until 4:30 while Peyton enjoyed the company of the other couple.

When they offered to cook dinner as well, Peyton, at first, refused, stating how unfair it would be for them to cook all the meals. But they insisted, arguing that they loved doing it, so she relented, and told them to go ahead and look through the kitchen. They'd find plenty of stuff to cook, for the Scott parents generally kept provisions stocked up.

"And they won't mind us snooping around and cooking their food?" Haley questioned.

Peyton waved a dismissive hand. "They're used to Nate's friends hanging around and emptying their freezer and pantry. I kinda think that's why they keep it stashed. It's not like they usually come here."

"Well, ok, if you're sure," Haley said with a nervous chuckle.

"Trust me," Peyton told the other girl. "We eat here all the time." When there was someone around to cook, that is, since both she and Nathan were useless with anything involving more than sticking pop tarts in the toaster.

"Ok, then, we'll have a look."

"You do that," Peyton said. "I'm gonna go check on Nathan. See if he's ready to get his lazy ass up yet."

"Hold on," Luke stopped her before she left. "Anything in particular you're craving or that you know Nathan would want?"

Peyton shook her head, her blonde curls bobbing back and forth. "Surprise us," she answered. They were already nice enough to cook for them; She wasn't about to start putting orders in.

"Well, what if we make something you don't like?" Lucas questioned further.

"Then we shoot you and bury you out back with the rest of them," Peyton returned sarcastically. "Joke," she added when Lucas and Haley exchanged glances. "No, listen, we're not picky eaters. I'm sure whatever you throw together will be just fine."

"All right, just remember you said that," Haley joked. "Let's start snooping," she said to Lucas.

...

He was already stirring when Peyton came upon him, and when she sat beside him, he opened his eyes.

"Feeling better?" she asked him.

He sat up and shrugged his shoulders. He did feel a little better. At least his head didn't throb as bad, and his stomach was less queasy. But he still felt like shit. He was seriously never drinking again, he silently vowed once more.

"Well, don't expect any sympathy from me," she warned him.

"Not even a little?" he mumbled.

"I already let you sleep this long. That's all you're getting," she said. "You wanna go get stupid drunk, then pay the price."

"I only got stupid drunk because of you," he replied defensively.

"Oh, it's my fault."

...

Meanwhile, Lucas and Haley exchanged glances again, nervous ones this time. They heard the quiet murmuring in the living room turn to raised voices in a matter of seconds. Clearly Nathan was awake and, just as clearly, a heated argument was about to erupt.

"What do we do?" Lucas whispered. They shouldn't be hearing this.

Haley lifted her shoulders uncertainly. The only exit from the kitchen was to the living room so escaping unseen was out of the question. "We stay in here, I guess," she whispered back. "What choice do we have?"

And that's how they would come to find out the true reason for the other couple's dispute the night before—by hearing every word of the one to come.

...

"Hell yeah, it's your fault," Nathan spit out snidely. "What? You think it's not?" he challenged.

"I don't recall forcing drinks down your throat," she shot back.

"No, you just tried to force me to fuck someone else."

"I suggested it," she argued.

"You told me to go do it."

"And your problem with that exactly?" she questioned.

He stared at her in awe, realizing she really didn't see it. "My problem, exactly, is just that," he mimicked sourly. "You sure you weren't the stupid drunk one?"

Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him, fire in her emerald eyes. "That's not an answer," she said. "Nathan, you've been with other girls before so don't try to act all saintly now."

"Saintly, fuck," he muttered.

"What's the matter?" she pressed. "It's only good if you have to sneak around and lie to do it? Does having my permission cramp the excitement for you?"

He shook his head, a deep frown on his handsome face. "Don't turn this on me," he told her furiously. "You always do that."

"I don't..."

"I haven't cheated on you for a while now, and you fucking know it." Damn it, he was so furious. He hated how much the cheating issue still came up in arguments. He knew why it did—understood it was his own doing—but he was trying, truly trying, his best not to be that guy anymore, and it seemed that she never wanted to see that. It's not that he wanted her to drop to her knees and praise him for managing to stay faithful longer than he ever had, but a little recognition for his efforts would be nice. He was beginning to wonder if she would ever trust him.

"Yes, I do know," she replied, causing his anger to decrease the slightest bit. Until her next comment. "Which is why I gave my okay."

He let out a deep growl of frustration and ran his hands through his short, dark hair. Didn't she get it? He didn't want her okay. "Why?" he pressed. "Why do you want to stop me from being a better guy? I've been doing good." And he was damn proud of himself for it. Why did she try to kick him back down to his old level?

"I know you have, baby," she acknowledged. "And I love you for that. But, unfortunately, right now is probably not the best time for you to change your ways."

"I think it's the perfect time," he countered. "Seeing as we're engaged and all."

She drew an exasperated breath at his lack of understanding. "We'll still be engaged," she told him persistently. "Nathan, I don't get why you're raising such a fuss about this. I'm doing it for you."

"For me," he muttered.

"Yes! I explained this all to you last night. You still want sex, and I understand that, but I'm too messed up right now to give it to you."

He nodded his head and, for a second, she thought she'd finally gotten through. She was wrong.

"So you pawn me off on someone else so you don't have to deal with me."

"No. Is that what you think?"

"What the hell am I supposed to think?" he shouted irately. "Look, I'm sorry I pushed you too hard last night..."

"No," she cut him off. "You didn't push me. You haven't pushed me. I wanted to be with you last night. I just couldn't."

"You wanted to be with me, Peyton?" he asked, a clear challenge in his tone. "Or you were worried about satisfying me?"

"Both," she answered earnestly.

"Really?" he scoffed. "Cause the fact you were crying kinda tells me you didn't want sex at all, and I don't know why you didn't just say so instead of letting me go that far." He shook his head, his emotions getting the best of him as his memory conjured up the image of her tear stained cheeks—tears that had fallen as he'd been getting off. Damn it, she should have said no. "I thought you wanted to."

"I did."

He was still shaking his head. He didn't believe her. "No. You knew I wanted to and you were afraid to disappoint me..."

"Again," she cut him off. She was afraid to disappoint him again.

He sneered at her. "You didn't think I could handle waiting until you're ready," he accused.

"It's not that," she argued. "I just don't think you should have to."

"Why?" he asked furiously. "Why shouldn't I have to? We're engaged, Peyton. If you're not having sex, why should I be?"

"Because it's not fair to you, Nathan!" she screamed in aggravation. She felt like she was just repeating herself and he wasn't even attempting to see her point.

"Oh, and it's fair to you if I go screw some random skank because you were raped and it messed you up?" he yelled back.

"Maybe not, but it's ok, Nate. I can handle it if I know you're being satisfied," she told him. "I thought you'd appreciate the green light until I..."

"Well, I don't," he snapped. "And I don't want you to have to handle it."

"Nathan..."

"You don't fucking get it, do you? I don't want anyone but you."

"And you don't get how much pressure that puts on me."

"How does it put pressure on you?" he demanded to know. "All you have to do is say no and I'll back off."

"I know you will. And that's why I feel guilty."

"Why?"

"God!" Peyton let out in frustration. "How many times do you need this explained? I know you'd back off if I told you to, but that's the problem. I feel bad that I can't provide what you need."

"Well, don't."

"Easier said than done when I know you're sexually frustrated."

"I'm not, Peyton. You're making that up."

"No, I just know you, and I know you want sex."

He threw his hands up irritably. "So what if I do?" he asked. "Does that mean sending me to some other girl to get off with? Why can't you just tell me I have to wait like you did when we first started dating?"

She fixed him with a hard, confused look. "That's what you want?" she asked doubtfully.

"Yeah, why not? I did it then, I can do it again."

Now she threw her head back and laughed. "You forget you had other girls at that time."

He rolled his eyes. "Stop bringing that up," he ordered. "I didn't forget. I'm just not that guy anymore."

"Exactly," she pointed out. "So that would mean a hundred percent celibacy on your part. No sex with your fiancé for who knows how long, and no hoochie on the side to make it easier."

"So?"

"So," she mimicked. "You, Nathan Scott, going without sex," she scoffed. "Think about it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Peyton," he snapped sarcastically. "You have zero faith in me, do you?"

"I just know you," she repeated. "You'd go insane and you know it."

"Probably," he admitted. "So I go insane. So what? What else ya got?"

"Nathan, this is serious."

"I know"

"I don't know when I'll be ready."

"Then I'll wait," he said, just as he'd said on that day she'd officially become his girlfriend.

"You'd be waiting indefinitely," she argued. "Is that really what you want?"

"Of course not," he answered truthfully. "Waiting sucks. But I'll do it."

"Why are you making this so difficult?" she asked, tears forming in her eyes now. "Can't you see I only want what's best for you?"

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her close. "I do see that, Peyt," he admitted. "But it's not like doing without sex is like doing without food or water or air. It's not gonna kill me to wait."

She couldn't suppress the tiny giggle that escaped her. "You realize what you just said, right?"

He chuckled too. "I'm full of surprises, aren't I?"

She nodded against his chest.

He pulled back to look at her, grasping her arms. "Look, I know the past few months have been tough on you..."

"On both of us," she amended.

He nodded agreeably. "And I know you're just trying to deal with the rape and everything, but I wish you'd understand that I only want to be with you. No one else. If that means holding off on sex for a while, then that's fine. Because I love you."

"I love you."

"You have no idea how much it killed me to hear you say go screw someone else," he told her earnestly. "That's why I got so stupid drunk last night."

"I wasn't trying to hurt you," she said, guilt suddenly engulfing her.

"I know," he acknowledged. "But I guess I'm just pissed that your solution is to pawn me off..."

"That's not..."

"Instead of looking into other ways to help you deal," he went on as though she hadn't interrupted.

"You mean therapy," she deadpanned, knowing instinctively that's what he referred to.

"Yeah," he said. " Look, I know you're against it, but I don't see why me screwing some other girl is the better option for you. If it was me, I would try everything else, anything, before resorting to send you to someone else's bed."

She couldn't answer him for the sobs caught in her throat, rendering her unable to speak as tears spilled in streams down her cheeks, her small frame all but convulsing from the intensity of her emotions.

He held her tighter, not letting go, but he did not drop the subject. Not this time. "Can you please just give it a chance, Peyton?" he pleaded. "I can't do this, ok? I can't help you by myself. I don't know how." His grip tightened as she continued to cry. His own eyes were starting to shimmer and sting from tears he fought to hold back. "And I'm not going to someone else no matter what you say," he told her firmly. "So can you please, just...try the counselling, for me? Please?"

Even in her state of despair, she could hear the desperation in his tone, feel it in his near bone crushing embrace. And it broke her heart. She could barely speak without choking, but she gazed up at him, and nodded her head vigorously, even managed a small, whimpered "ok".

A tentative smile came across his face. "Yeah?" he asked, as though he feared he'd heard wrong.

She nodded again. "Yeah," she croaked. "I'll go. For you." Of course she would. She would do anything for him.

Now his smile spread across his entire face, his eyes lit up, and a deep sigh of relief escaped his lips as he pulled her back into him and placed a soft kiss to the top of her head. "Thank you," he said while she just kept nodding her head and sobbing.

He felt a heavy weight being lifted from his shoulders. He didn't know if therapy would do her any good, but it was worth a shot. Anything had to be better than her trying to send him to someone else, or him carrying the sole responsibility for her recovery. He wanted to help her through this, and he would do what he had to do, but, like he'd said, he couldn't do it alone.

Yes, her parents were there too, and her friends, but he knew she relied on him more than anyone. But he was just a high school student, one who struggled for Cs at that. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. Avoiding sexual advances, as he'd done at first, had made her think he wasn't attracted to her anymore, and then when he did make them, she felt guilty that she couldn't respond to them. He couldn't win. Whichever position he took, it somehow hurt her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He just wanted to support her, and he felt like he was failing her in that.

But he wasn't. He really had no idea how much of an impact his support had on her—that without him she'd have no will or strength or desire to recover. He made her want to get better, and though she'd still rather skip therapy—she couldn't see it helping—Nathan seemed so distraught that she felt she at least owed it to him to try it.

No doubt her parents would be thrilled too. They were, after all, the ones to put Nathan up to persuading her to go to therapy. Not for her sexual issues, of course—they didn't know about those—but for her nightmares and her illogical fear to step back into Tree Hill High. Who knows, maybe therapy would help her with all three of her dilemmas. She doubted it, but she could hope.

She felt Nathan rubbing her back in small, soothing circles, the gentle motion, along with the burning sensation in her eyes from crying, nearly lulling her to sleep. She felt so safe wrapped in his arms. Protected. Loved. It was the best feeling ever.

Neither realized the shift that was taking place in their relationship in that very moment. It was so subtle that they didn't notice it happen.

But happen it did. It was happening right now. No longer would she doubt Nathan's fidelity. No longer would she have trust issues concerning him. No longer would he give her reason to have them. These weren't decisions they consciously made. They just were.

"So," Nathan suddenly piped up out of nowhere, "you're still gonna do the blowjob thing, right?"

He said it so out of the blue that Peyton burst into giggles. Here they were in probably the most intense and consequential moment of their relationship, and he, of course, ruins the moment, by asking about blowjobs, of all things. That was her Nathan, sex-crazed and always able to make her laugh, even in the harshest of times, and even when he wasn't trying to. "God, I love you," she said, leaning her chin on his shoulder.

"I love you too," he replied. "But, I'm kinda serious. So, are you? Going to?"

Another chuckle escaped her lips. "I think that could be arranged."

"Thank God," he responded, releasing a loud sigh of relief, causing her to laugh that much harder.

...

Nathan and Peyton shared an uneasy glance when they went to the kitchen to discover that Lucas and Haley had put together a tuna casserole for dinner. Neither of them was crazy for tuna, but neither did they have the heart to tell their company that. Especially Peyton since she'd been the one to tell them that she and Nathan weren't picker eaters—they really weren't—and to go ahead and surprise them.

So they sat down indulgently, ready to choke down the meal, a tall glass of water at both their sides. To their surprise though, it wasn't half bad—better than any tuna casserole they've ever tasted—and Nathan even went back for seconds.

"This is actually pretty good," he said as he scooped more into his plate, to which Peyton nodded in agreement.

"You sound surprised," Haley joked.

Nathan simply shrugged and shoved his mouth with more food.

"It's my mom's recipe," Lucas informed them. "She's a great cook."

Nathan completely agreed. "My mom can't even make toast without burning it," he said. "Kinda like Peyton," he added with a teasing smirk.

"Says the guy who set my oven on fire trying to cook breakfast," Peyton tossed back with feigned indignity.

Nathan chuckled, agreeing he couldn't cook either.

"We figured," Haley stated. "Which is why we left you the dishes."

Nathan groaned in complaint, earning him Peyton's sharp elbow to his side.

"It's the least we can do after they cooked for us," she reasoned.

"I guess," Nathan replied lightly. "Or maybe you could do them while I go grab a shower," he suggested.

"Uh yeah, no. Nice try though," Peyton laughed. "You help with dishes first and then you shower."

"Fine," he relented. "Bossy," he muttered.

"Lazy pile of crap," she muttered back.

"You say the sweetest things to me," Nathan joked. "You know you love me," he returned with a wink.

"Lucky for you I kinda do," she agreed as she stood up with her empty plate and utensils. "Come on, let's go."

"I'm not even done," he complained, gesturing to his own plate, only half gone. Odd, since he usually practically inhaled his food.

"Well chop, chop. My dad expects me home sometime this year."

Her smile contradicted the sternness of her voice, and Nathan couldn't help grinning at her. This felt nice, he thought as he took another bite. Real nice.

...

He felt even better when they went back to Peyton's house and she told her parents her decision to seek counselling.

They were beyond ecstatic, and when the initial excitement died down some, her father gave Nathan a discreet look of such gratitude and pride, admiration even, if Nathan was reading correctly, that it made the young Scott nearly beam with joy.

Never had her old man looked at him that way, not even when he was being polite and inviting him to dinner. That, he understood, had been Mr. Sawyer giving him a chance for his daughter's sake. But now he was giving him the same look Nathan had seen him give Lucas at the school dance months ago, and here at the house more recently.

One might think her dad was really coming around and changing his opinion of the dark haired Scott boy. It was something Nathan always wanted—the older man's approbation—and resented not having it, even though he knew it was his own fault he didn't.

For a while he wondered if maybe he was reading too much into one look. Sure, the guy was grateful Nathan had managed to convince Peyton to go to therapy, but actually liking him? Yeah, that might be pushing it a little.

But later when he was leaving, and her dad caught him alone and gave him a pat on the back and used the words 'good man', he knew his first impression was accurate. He was finally gaining, not only the man's acceptance, but his approval.

And he found himself smiling the whole drive home because of it.

...

A/N: Just letting you guys know there will be a 3 or 4 month time jump from this chapter to the next chapter.