I'm not quite sure what was up with me this chapter; it seemed a little awkward to read through again, but I think I'm back on track for the next one. Thanks for your patience, and I apologise in advance for any errors – I did try and weed them out, but I know I'll have missed at least one, somewhere!

It was far nicer than I wanted to admit to wake up with a boy in my arms. He was like having a personal hot-water-bottle. I wrapped my arms around him again, smiling when he kissed my neck. He was still half asleep but coherent enough to respond to me. Not wanting to move, I relaxed again, pleased when he did the same.

Apparently though, Carlisle was far more of a morning person than I anticipated; another fifteen minutes and he was restless and fidgety.

"What time is it?" I groaned, squinting into the light seeping through the curtains as he wriggled away to grab his phone.

"Eight thirty," he answered, sitting up now.

"Why are you awake, then?" I grumbled at him. "It's a Saturday."

"Saturdays are for getting things done, Garrett," he teased, leaning down to kiss me again. "But don't worry, I'm not going to force you out of bed."

"Good. The weekend if for sleeping in." I waited to see if he was going to come back to me, not done with cuddling him yet, but he wasn't paying attention. Partly against his will, I grabbed him again, pulling him into me.

Initially he laughed, but he melted into me a second later, seemingly happy to be there. "…I guess Saturday work can wait."

"What could you possibly have to do at this hour, hmm?" I kissed him, pleased with myself at having initiated it, and even more pleased with how he responded.

"Nothing that I can't do later," he reassured me. He seemed a lot happier than yesterday, and I smugly hoped that I had contributed to that. "But when you do eventually decide it's time to move, do you want to go and get coffee?"

"Sounds good," I mumbled into him, not planning on the being any time soon.

After another hour of me drifting in and out of sleep, keeping Carlisle locked against me while he scrolled through shit on his phone as means of amusement, I surrendered. It was almost eleven now, and I really couldn't warrant forcing him to stay here any longer.

I released him and sat up. "…coffee, right?"

"Yeah," he laughed. "Or not, if you don't want."

I shook my head. "I definitely want coffee."

"Good." He teasingly kissed my forehead, jumping up to get dressed again. He wasn't forward enough to do that in front of me, which I was a little disappointed about, but at the same time I wasn't exactly willing either, so I had nothing to bitch about.

Back in his own clothing, he wandered into the kitchen, leaving me to stew over dressing like I always did. I almost sighed in relief when he left the room without me having to ask him; I didn't want to have that conversation just yet.

We ended up at a coffee shop down the road, and I was absolutely desperate for the caffeine. I ordered my drink, as did Carlisle, and we went to sit in the corner and wait for the waitress to bring it to us. The shop was mostly empty, and thankfully it only took a few minutes.

My heart stopped when she set the cups on the table, followed by two plates, and I felt the blood drain from my face.

Seeing my expression, Carlisle quickly corrected her, already reaching for my hand. "We didn't order anything other than our drinks," he reminded her politely.

She smiled at him, almost flirtatious in her response, and I was hit with wave of jealousy. "It's an 'early bird' special; if you order a drink before twelve, the boss throws in a muffin."

I felt like I was going to throw up the damn muffin, keeping my eyes on the table and hoping that the bloody thing might vaporise. The fact that I was actually hungry pissed me off, and I was suddenly far more resentful of my set of 'issues' than I usually was.

"You don't have to eat it, Garrett, it's okay," Carlisle whispered to me, squeezing my fingers.

"I-I kind of want t-to, b-but…" I wasn't entirely sure what was stopping me, apart from a panic attack.

"We could go sit in the car? Would that be better?" he suggested, offering me a reassuring smile when I glanced up at him.

I nodded slowly, still not entirely convinced. It all seemed fucking ridiculous, and I knew eventually I was going to have to explain to Carlisle what the actual fuck was wrong with me, before he thought I was completely insane.

He got up, paying for our drinks before I could tell him not to, and met me at the door, immediately holding my hand again.

"Thank you," I whispered to him as we settled again. "I'm sorry…"

"If it makes you that uncomfortable, then you don't need to be doing it; don't worry about it," he soothed, knotting our fingers together.

I swallowed thickly, wanting to clear up the issue a little bit. "I-I, um, when I was at school, kids used to tease me a lot…I was kind of a chubby kid, and it used to cause problems at lunch times…and I kind of got stuck on it, so I'm hyperaware of it every time I'm in public…it's ridiculous and kind of fucked up, I know, but…"

He hugged me suddenly, the movement a little awkward in the confines of the car. "I'm sorry they did that to you. We'll just have to be careful about what we plan to do, then."

"…I don't want to, though…I want to change it, but I panic every time." I forced a laugh, trying to ease the tightness in my chest.

"We'll do whatever you're comfortable with." He squeezed me again before pulling back.

"Why are you being so good about this?" I shot back, almost waiting for him to laugh and want to leave.

He frowned a little, glancing away. "Because I really like you, and I don't want you to be upset every time we're together. I don't want every date to be traumatic for you…and besides…I got the shit kicked out of me during high school too, I know how shitty kids can be…"

I stayed quiet, slowly picking apart the muffin, but I wasn't sure if my intention was to eat it or not. "…Why on earth would kids be mean to you? You're perfect." It hadn't meant to come out like that, nor did I really want those words to ever come out of my mouth, but I didn't think Carlisle's reaction had been a bad one.

His face flushed and he quickly looked down, awkward about the compliment. "I was different, so I didn't fit in all that well…and they kept teasing me for being gay, which I blatantly denied, but it looks like they weren't far off the mark," he laughed. There was a pause in our conversation.

"Do you want me to drive you home after this?" I asked him, hesitantly taking a bite of it.

He placed his hand on my leg, tracing circles against my jeans with his fingertip. "I suppose so; Alistair will already think I'm dead. Granted, he probably wouldn't be that sad about having the flat to himself."

I would be eternally grateful for him not commenting on it as I choked down a few mouthfuls, managing about half the muffin before my throat closed again and I couldn't do it anymore. He took my hand, and we drove in a comfortable silence back to his flat.

"Do you want to come in?" he asked me he got out of the car, apparently not at all perturbed at having me and Alistair in the same room again.

"Ah…will your flatmate be okay with that?" I reminded him. "I'm not sure he's in my favour…"

He rolled his eyes. "He can shove it. It's not like we're fucking in the kitchen; he's got nothing to complain about."

His take on the situation made me laugh, and I agreed, following him up the steps and into the building. Thankfully, Alistair was nowhere in sight.

Noticing my anxiety, Carlisle laughed to himself. "He doesn't hate you, Garrett. He's just an asshole. He's got no reason to be a jerk, but he'll do it anyway."

"Right…not fucking in the kitchen," I grumbled under my breathing, playfully glaring at him when he laughed again. We sat across from each other at the kitchen table, and the conversation was a lot lighter now than it had been in the car half an hour before. I was glad we'd talked about it, but I was more than happy to be off the subject. "So…if we were to fuck in the kitchen…how would that work, exactly?" I was only half teasing him, a little part of me genuinely curious about how this worked. I knew the logistics, obviously, but figuring out how I supposed to know what exactly he expected had my mind twisted, and I was a little too awkward to outright ask.

"We're never fucking in the kitchen. Ever," he dead panned, eyes wide as he shook his head at me.

"Never?" I teased.

"Jesus, Garrett, this is where food is made." He was trying to joke with me, but I could tell he was semi-serious, and his horrified reaction had me in stitches.

"Okay, but…hypothetically. If we were to do that, how would we…I mean, who would…"

He took a sip of his drink to avoid answering me, and although I should have been deterred by his discomfort around the subject, I found myself wanting to encourage it. Maybe being this close to Alistair's place of living was going to turn me into a jerk too.

"…We'll figure it out," he answered eventually, trying to get off the topic.

I tried to dodge his vague answer, feigning, innocence. "But when you're…intimate with someone, how do you decide…"

"It's not really a decision, Garrett…it just kind of happens. Generally, you know the person for a while first, so you sort of know what they like…"

"What if you both want the same thing?" I really couldn't figure out why I was enjoying this torment so much; it might have had something to do with how adorable he happened to be with his cheeks slightly pink as he fought to keep his face from flushing.

"…There are ways around that."

"Fine, but how am I supposed to know what to do, if you're not going to tell me what you like?" The blatant question made him choke a little, and he was suddenly very focused on the table.

I heard movement behind me, and glanced over my shoulder just in time to see the flatmate who I'd assumed was not home saunter into the kitchen with a smirk on his face. Although his presence had originally sent a wave of anxiety through my body, the look of impending doom on Carlisle's face had me chuckling.

"He's asking whether you top or bottom, Carlisle. Don't make the boy wait all day." It only took a second for the snappy remark I was waiting for to arrive.

"This had literally nothing to do with you," he grumbled back at him, definitely uncomfortable now. Starting to feel a little bad for getting him into this situation, I reached across the table to squeeze his fingers, offering him an apologetic smile.

"Well, I can assure you that your boy takes it up the-" He was grinning at me, standing behind Carlisle with both hands on his shoulders.

"Stop- stop it," Carlisle interrupted him, spinning around to face him as he stood up. He was laughing with us, but obviously didn't want his flatmate to take the joke as far as he was about to.

"I'll think about it." Alistair placed a condescending kiss on his forehead – grinning widely at me the entire time. I narrowed my eyes at him; if it was his plan to make me jealous, he was well on the way.

"Are you done?" He shook his head at him, sitting down again to get out from under his touch.

"Sure we are. Unless your boyfriend has any other questions that I need to force you to answer?"

I obediently shook my head, laughing as Alistair released him again, heading over the TV and away from us again.

"…Is it okay he called you that?" Carlisle asked me, glancing up across the table, no longer joking.

"Yeah…I kind of like it, actually," I admitted, deciding I'd better spare him after the trauma I'd subjected him to.

He looked down again but was smiling, squeezing my fingers. "I kind of like it too…"