Truth or Dare

A more pleasant memory I found in the drafts. From Gabriel's POV.

“I dare you to kiss me.” I tried to keep my face relaxed, features blank. There were too many emotions struggling underneath; Peter didn’t need to know about any of them. Hope was the most sickening, but self-loathing gave it a run for its money. A kiss was a small thing, easy, almost insignificant, but would Peter do it? Was he willing to get that close?

After a long beat, Peter shrugged and leaned forward. “Sure.” He put his elbows on the desk between them and extended his hands. “Stick out your hand.”

I snorted disdainfully. “I meant a real kiss.” Not my hand, moron. Angry, on edge, already anticipating being turned down, my lips pressed into a thin line despite my best efforts to hide my expression. I watched as Peter thought it over. Amazingly, Peter was thinking it over and not dismissing out of hand. Of course, dismissing would mean he’d lose the game and Peter was more competitive than he liked to admit.

Peter made a sharp exhale, really studying my face, eyes going over every part of it. I wondered if he was picking where to plant his lips, or deciding if it was a face comely enough to do it with. Was he reading how badly I wanted this? The long pause left me desperate to fidget, feeling i was being inspected, weighed, and- Peter got up, coming around the desk. Obviously, a decision had been reached.

I tilted my head up as he approached. He’s going to do it? My mouth relaxed, tension dialing back as relief rose inside of me and hope started to win out. I suppose it would be bad form to hang onto him and get a proper kiss. Plus he’d probably hit me. But would it be worth it?

“Closed mouth,” Peter said, leaving me to wonder if that was a question or a statement of intention. And whose mouth needed to be closed? The idea that I might have gotten some tongue if I'd only worded my dare more explicitly was maddening. I was distracted from it soon enough. Peter’s right hand came down on my right knee, on the top at first but then immediately sliding in … and up. I glanced down quickly, but there wasn’t time to react. Peter’s left hand came to rest on my right shoulder, giving him balance as he leaned in.

He’s definitely doing it. My eyes widened dramatically as the reality and immediacy of it hit me. Peter’s scent wafted ahead of me, an air so delicious I wanted to drink it in. Mere lungfuls didn’t do it justice; I wanted it distilled in liquid form. Peter paused in front of me, head tilted, only an inch or two away. While I wanted to lunge forward and take what was on offer, I held my place. I wanted no question of who initiated and I didn’t want to look as ridiculously eager as I really was. It was only going to be a peck, I knew.

Peter’s lips moved, loosening, protruding more; he was puckering up. His left hand glided up the slope of my shoulder to the back of my neck, fingers shifting to cup my head. The right settled slightly, bearing a tiny bit of weight. Peter closed that last distance between us, eyes sliding shut as his lips pressed gently into mine. I inhaled deeply, keeping my own eyes open. I wanted to see this, start to finish, no matter how brief it was.

It wasn’t brief. Peter’s lips pulsed against mine, warm and soft and human. Erotic energy flowed all up and down my spine; I felt my cock throb. My heart was racing all of a sudden. Peter wasn’t making this a fleeting thing; he was actually, really kissing me. Peter’s lips made one full motion against my still ones, then he repeated it once, twice, then thrice – taking his time about it. Both of his hands moved – a slight stroking of my scalp; small circles on my inner thigh. 

Peter pulled away only enough to part us, eyes opening before he came back for one last kiss. There was not a hint of revulsion, hesitance, or regret on his features. Mine, on the contrary, were stunned. I'd sat there unmoving, not participating, hardly even breathing the whole time. Floored was an understatement. That was everything I'd wanted and I'd just been given the tiniest sample. Hunger, lust, and desire roared to full life as Peter pulled away, leaving behind only a hot puff of breath to caress my lips. MORE! My brain screamed at me.

My fingers scrabbled at Peter’s arm, halting his departure. Peter looked back at me and smiled, smug at the degree of reaction he’d engendered. “That was a real kiss.” As he pulled himself free of my grip and returned to the other side of the desk, self-loathing loomed larger than every other emotion I had at the moment. Peter knew what he was denying him. That small taste of heaven reminded me that this really was hell.

Drawing

I'm such a fucking perv. Here's a drawing or two.

Peters

I know so many freaking Peters! Like seriously! I know Peter my brother, Peter my roommate, Peter my ex, Peter Jr. my stepbrother, Peter my stepfather, Peter my worst enemy, Peter my coffee buddy, Peter the blogger, Peter my blog follower, another Peter blog follower, and another blog follower. I don't know about you guys but I'm sensing some sort of pattern here. 

Just thinking

I can't stop thinking of the people who live so differently than most of us

And not in a positive way

Not in normal way or a way I can really relate to or many of us can

People so tangled up in their own shit they aren't thinking of doing other things people wrapped up in their own lives do like cut themselves or whatever

The small group of guys in the "underworld" smoking meth and going to sleazy clubs, addicted to risk and a myriad of other things picked up in lives others look down upon

What parents warn against

And for good reason

Half the people I message or try to contact online who posted stuff online in 1998 or 2001 have already died 

Their digital footprint being the only trace of them for the wider world, they being the friend who died for someone who changed their ways

Dates like May 16th, 1998 (made up completely) being a day someone or multiple people never forget

And others in their 40's then don't remember at all now, it being spent getting home from work and watching The King of Queens and eating dinner

Their faint craving for adventure and excitement not meeting the intensity of craving of those people in those times for routine (not usual for many of them)

And comfort and wanting those tethers to how people on sitcoms live

Wanting to be part of the backround noise they hear from tv which they sometimes watch

Eventually this fades

And the nature of people takes over

The slow return to the ways that they were born with

Which is something that is pretty timeless, despite the changing names and faces

And these thoughts make me comfortable

For that damn anonymous bitch.

This is for some stupid idiot. The one who keeps saying I'm stupid for leaving Foster...It is obviously about me and Foster. 

Bang, Smash, Scream, Cry,

All I ask is one question, Why?

Your constant fights killing me inside,

Everyday I want to run and hide.

You never think about what you are doing,

Never realise all the pain you're ensuing,

On me, the one you should protect and love,

But instead you prefer to push and shove.

Some days, I wish I was dead,

Finally have a life of peace instead,

One day you'll realise what you did to me,

One day, you might LET me be free.

The things I have seen and the things I have heard,

I wish I had never listened to a single word,

All of your hatred is left to sizzle,

Every single time, I'm the one caught in the middle.

The people don't help, I know that much,

They make everything worse by the sting of their touch,

Don't let them win, I'm begging you, please,

Think just for once about the shadow known as me.

As the fight dies down and turns to silence,

The walls of our house recover from the violence,

In our room I am left to cry,

My family is falling apart; now tell me... Why?

Gabe's Babysitter

By Avery Jaro

I was afraid to breathe. Mom and dad were pressed against me on either side 

on the hardwood of the pew. I could feel mom trembling, and she kept pressing 

tissues to her nose. There were trails of tears running down her face. Everyone 

around us was crying. Dad didn’t say a thing. He smelled like Brute and cigarettes, 

and I could tell he didn’t want to be here. I didn’t either, but mom said I had to come.

She and dad had fought about it. He said I was too little, and hadn’t I seen 

enough death already. Mom looked horrified when he said it. I didn’t know what 

he was talking about unless he meant the mouse I found under the refrigerator a few 

weeks ago. I thought it was a dust bunny, when I found its dried up furry little body.

 I hadn’t been scared until mom had started shrieking about the filth and germs. That’s 

when I started crying which was of course when dad came home. 

Dad always came home when something made me cry. He thinks I’m broken. I 

heard him tell the neighbors that he thinks I’m fucked in the head. I asked mom what 

that meant, and she slapped me for using the f-word. She wouldn’t explain what fucked 

in the head means. She never explains anything. She says god will show me the way. 

I sucked my lower lip between my teeth and worried at it. I wanted to bite my nails,

but dad would jab me with his elbow if he saw me bring my fingers near my mouth. 

No son of his was going to suck his thumb or bite his nails. I bet it'd be OK if I started to 

smoke though. He does enough of it. 

I didn’t want to be at a funeral. I didn’t want to remember Carrie Ann in a box. We 

played hide and seek. We played Candy Land, and she showed me how to play doctor. 

That made me press my chin against my chest. If mom knew about that, she wouldn’t 

think that Carrie Ann was an angel anymore. Good girls don’t show boys their bodies, and 

good boys don’t touch either. There were so many rules to get into heaven. I don’t think 

I’ll be able to remember all of them, and I try so hard. 

Father John went on and on about the spirit and Jesus, and how the angels would 

look after my cousin when she got to heaven. I wanted to know why God didn’t look 

out for Carrie Ann when she fell down the steps and broke her neck. I didn’t 

understand why he’d take my friend. She wasn’t bad not like the bogyman, not like 

Satan. Mom mumbled something about Carrie Ann’s mother being tarnished, but she 

wouldn’t explain that to me either. 

“Gabriel.” I looked up as mom yanked on my arm. I was thinking so hard that I 

hadn’t noticed her getting up at all. “We have to say ‘good bye’ to your cousin now.” 

I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to look at her. I was afraid of what I’d see in the box. 

I turned to my father, but he pushed me towards mom. She wrapped her fingers around 

mine like a vice and took me down the center aisle toward the coffin. Dad flanked my 

other side like they were trying to make sure that I didn’t run away. I was so afraid that I 

had to pee. 

There were so many flowers, and so much incense that it was making me dizzy. The 

smell was so strong and sweet that my stomach turned sour. I wasn’t big enough to 

see into the coffin, and I breathed a sigh of relief when all I could see was the edge 

and the pink satin padding. 

Then my father scooped me up, one hand under each armpit to lift me off my feet, 

holding me so I had to look down at Carrie Ann's face. I let out a squeak when I 

wanted to scream. My eyes were clamped shut, but behind them I saw Carrie lying on

 the pink satin with a big gash in her forehead. There was blood soaking into her dark 

hair, and her eyes were staring at me as the light went out of them. 

“Mommy,” I whispered. 

“Gabriel.” She squeezed my hand one more time, and then patted me on the cheek. 

“You have to open your eyes to say ‘good bye’.”

I bit down on my scream and forced my eyes open. Carrie looked like she was asleep. 

Her bright read hair was in curls over the pillow, and she was dressed up like Alice

 in Wonderland in a blue dress with lots of white lace. There wasn’t any blood on her 

forehead, and she didn’t look anything like the face in my dreams. 

“Good bye, Carrie Ann.” My voice cracked when I said the words, and the second my 

father put me down, I raced for the bathroom where I locked myself into the stall to cry.

 I was there for a long time, and my dad was waiting for me when I was done. He didn’t 

say anything. He just took my hand, so we could walk home. 

They spoke in whispers for the rest of the day and night. Mom kept watching me and 

thanking god that nothing so horrible had happened to her angel. Dad kept trying to 

work on a clock at the kitchen table, while I pretended to watch TV.

“Gabe,” he said, looking over at me when the cuckoo clock counted down to 9:00. 

“It’s time for you to go to bed.” 

“I know.” I didn’t want to go to bed. I was afraid of having more bad dreams. “Dad, can 

you come with me, please?” I didn’t want to ask mom. She’d make me more afraid 

than I already was. She always did. 

“You’re a big boy, Dex. You’re not afraid of the dark, right?” He gave me the mean 

look, the one where he glared at me from under his big eyebrows. “You outgrew 

that a long time ago.” 

“Don’t forget to say your prayers, Gabe,” Mom reminded me. “I’ll come give you a kiss goodnight later.”

“No, sir, never mind.” I gave mom a quick hug and nodded at my father on my way to 

my bedroom. “I’m not afraid of the dark anymore.” I’m terrified of ghosts with red hair and 

bleeding foreheads. I’m not afraid of the dark at all. 

Thank you for reading. Comments are always appreciated.

Getting rid of the devil in my head

“You know you can’t trust anyone, don’t you?” His voice was barely above a whisper. The feel of his breath on the side of my neck made the hair on my arms prickle and a shiver run down my spine. “Sooner or later, Gabriel, Ashley or Avery will betray you. Hell you can’t even trust your mother. What would Georgia do if she knew what you’ve done? Her sweet, sweet angel is a murderer.” 

“Leave me alone!” I snapped, my hand slipping, and my razor sliced the corner of my lip. I watched in the mirror as my blood spread to stain the shaving soap on my skin, my tongue darting out to taste it. Lucifer was behind me, his black eyes boring into mine in the reflection. “You’re not real.” 

“I’m as real as you are, Gabe.” He stuck a finger into the blood and licked it off, soap and all. It made my mouth go dry as I swallowed. “Getting more real every single day. You can’t handle what you’ve done, and I can. You sure as shit can’t handle a little bundle of fire like Emma. That girl is so much better than you. Doesn’t it make you wonder how a loser like you could attract the attention of a hot piece of ass like that?”

“Don’t talk about her like that!” I dropped the razor in the sink, ducking my face to rinse off before taking a towel to dry off. The white cotton stank of too much bleach, and now I could smell the tang of my coppery blood mingled with it. “Emma likes me. She saved me! She saved me from you!” 

“Did she?” He smirked, following me back to my bedroom where I quickly got dressed. I didn’t like the feel of his eyes on me while I did it. “How exactly did she do that? I’m still here aren’t I? Face it Gabriel. I’m your one and only real friend. I’m the only person you can trust. I’m the only one that looks out for you.” 

“You want my life!” I snarled at him as I fought the buttons on my shirt. Then I nearly injured myself tucking my shirt into my pants a little too vigorously. “You want to take over. You want me dead!” 

“I don’t want you dead. I mean kudos for the whole suicide idea. You do know that’s a mortal sin, right? What would poor mom do if you’d succeeded?” He pouted as he sat with his ass on the edge of my dresser. “Whatever would she tell Father John about her angel committing suicide?” 

“It’s better than her finding out I’m a murderer!” I snatched up my comb and went to work getting my hair to behave. “I’m going to the shop. Then I’m coming home to spend the evening with Emma. I don’t want you here.” 

“I’m here because you need me, Gabriel. You’ll see.” He followed me to the door, watching with a smug look on his face as I tugged on my coat, running my finger tips over the worn corduroy to make sure there was no lint caught in the nap. “I’m the only one you need, and I’m the only one who won’t betray you. You’re naive, but you’re not stupid. If you’d start thinking instead of mooning over Emma, you’d see that I’m right.” 

I glanced at him over my shoulder as I undid the last lock on the door. “I will get rid of you if it’s the last thing I do.”

Thanks

Thanks everyone for coming to our party. It was awesome. :D

The super random view from our hotel room. 

Another fight...

Recent Activity

-Gabriel is complicated with Foster. – Like – Comment

-View all 72 comments.

Blake

Wow, tell us something else we don't know.

-29 minutes ago – Like – 8 people

Frank

Congrats...?

-28 minutes ago – Like

Claire

Yeah sure WHATEVER.

Foster wouldn't permit this in his FB!

-27 minutes ago – Like – 18 people

Noah

Did I miss something...?

Don't answer that, I don't want to know what it is I missed.

Because I won't miss knowing.

-26 minutes ago – Like – 6 people

Matt

This is just as hilarious as it is disturbing.

-26 minutes ago – Like – 8 people

Jordan

Ah man.

I waited too long I guess.

-25 minutes ago – Like

Peter

I like boomerangs.

-24 minutes ago – Like – 5 people

Andrew

I forgot what I was going to say.

-23 minutes ago – Like – 2 people

Emma

Gabriel, you're a pathetic hero for this.

-23 minutes ago – Like – 4 people

Foster

I DIDN'T GET 'COMPLICATED WITH HIM' GD.

GABRIEL, I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU DID THIS BUT YOU ARE GOING TO TAKE IT DOWN.

NOW.

THIS IS NOT FUNNY, YOU ARE NOT FUNNY, BUT YOU ARE PATHETIC AND SO IS THIS HALF-ASSED, EMBARASSING ATTEMPT ON YOUR BEHALF AT FLATTERY.

START WALKING THE STREETS... AGAIN.

BITCH.

-22 minutes ago – Like – 14 people

Gabriel

I DIDN'T DO THIS. SOMEONE HAS OBVIOUSLY DECIDED TO TORTURE ME OVER THE INTERNET. BUT I DON'T CARE.

WHEN THE AUTOPSY IS PERFORMED, MY CAUSE OF DEATH WILL READ FACEBOOK.

AND YOU, FOSTER. NEXT TIME YOU BLOW UP, BLOW UP YOUR LOVE DOLL.

BITCH.

-20 minutes ago – Like

Foster

OH SO AM I SUPPOSED TO BLOW YOU UP?

OH AND FUCK YOU.

BITCH.

-19 minutes ago – Like

Gabriel

NO, YOU'RE JUST SUPPOSED TO BLOW ME.

FUCK YOU, TOO.

BITCH.

-18 minutes ago – Like

Blake

Guys I don't think they're complicated.

-17 minutes ago – Like

Foster

GO BLOW YOURSELF.

BITCH.

-17 minutes ago – Like

Gabriel

FINE, I'M SURE I'D BE BETTER AT IT THAN YOU, ANYWAY.

BITCH.

-16 minutes ago – Like

Foster

THAN I -WOULD BE-, BITCH.

CALL ME A BITCH ONE MORE TIME

AND I WILL KILL YOU.

BITCH.

-15 minutes ago – Like

Gabriel

YOU FAIL AT KILLING, ESPECIALLY AT KILLING ME.

...BITCH!

-14 minutes ago – Like

Foster

YOU FAIL AT KILLING SO MUCH YOU COULDN'T EVEN FINISH YOURSELF OFF WHEN YOU TRIED.

AND YOU FAIL AT SAVING, TOO. ESPECIALLY AT SAVING YOURSELF.

YOU CAN'T SAVE YOURSELF, YOU CAN'T KILL YOURSELF, SO MAN, GUESS YOU ARE...

FUCKED.

DON'T NEED SEX WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU THAT GOOD OF A FUCKING, DO YOU?.?.!

BITCH!.!.!

-13 minutes ago – Like

Gabriel

Please don't talk to me, ever again...

-12 minutes ago – Like

I never knew

What interested Peter at the moment was the patchwork of scars that marred his roommate's chest and back. They bore silent witness to the experiences that had shaped this person into the man he was today—healed burns, deep gashes. Peter gently ran his fingers over some of the largest marks."I'm sorry, Gabe," he whispered. "I never knew."

Peter has a nightmare

He was twitching. I could hear the springs in the sofa squeaking each and every time he shifted in his sleep. I’d grown used to the sound of his snoring and the occasional giggle when he was dreaming, but Peter wasn’t dreaming. He was having a nightmare. We’d been getting along, but it was a brittle peace. He was exhausted. 

Rolling over I pulled one of my pillows over my head and wrapped my arms around it. But try as I might I couldn’t block the sounds of his whimpers. Each one of them was like a knife going through my heart. Peter was miserable, and I knew it was my fault. 

I climbed out of bed, tugging at the drawstring of my sweats to make sure they didn’t fall down as I walked as quietly as I could into the living room. Peter had knocked his covers off, and he had one arm thrown up over his face. He was shivering, and there was a sheen of sweat on his skin. 

Fear spread through me like a cancer. What if he was sick? There was no one here who could help him. I was afraid to wake him. Afraid to touch him. 

“No,” he whined and swatted at something only he could see. His hand left scratches over his bare chest, and he let out another small cry. 

“Peter.” I sank down onto my knees next to the couch, and I placed my hand over his on his stomach. “Peter, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” 

“Gabriel?” He jerked awake, his fingers clamping around mine as another cry was torn from his throat. “God, fucking, dammit!” 

“It’s OK,” I said.

He pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me. His body was shaking as I slipped my arms around his waist. I’d never held him like this. I’d never held anyone quite like this, but somehow I thought I was doing the right thing. A fragment of a memory that wasn’t mine flittered behind my eyes. 

“Bad dream. It was a really bad dream,” Peter whispered. He didn’t shove me away. I was waiting for it. The sudden revulsion when he realized that it was me holding him.

“It’ll be alright. I’ve got you,” I murmured against his throat. I pulled him onto the floor next to me, my fingers carding through his thick, dark hair. Peter’s arms tightened around my neck. His lips brushed along my jaw, and I could feel the warm, wetness of his tears on my cheek. 

I shifted my head, pressing my lips against his. They tasted of the salt of his tears, and I sighed when his lips parted when they touched mine. The affection I felt wasn’t anyone else's. It was mine. I was the one who wanted to make him feel better. I was the one who wanted him to feel loved.

Fighting...

Gabriel stormed through the door to their apartment, and heard Foster follow him, slamming the door behind him. The sound it made was so loud and definite it almost made the very walls shake. He spun around to face Foster, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You," he began.

"I wasn't flirting with her, for fuck sakes!" Foster interrupted. "How many times do I have to tell you that? Once more? Okay, fine – I wasn't flirting with her! There, you happy now?"

"You might not have noticed it," Gabriel snarled, his bottom lip curling, once Foster had stopped talking, "but she was all over you, and you didn't even try to put a stop to it. You even looked like you kind of liked it! What am I supposed to think?"

Foster took two deliberate steps forward until they were only a few inches apart. "You," he hissed, poking Gabriel hard in the chest, "don't know what you're talking about. She wasn't all over me, not in the way you mean anyway. For your information, that's how it goes when you dance with someone, you bastard! But of course you wouldn't know that, since you've never danced with anyone in your entire life." Foster poked him again, even harder this time. "And you wouldn't even consider dancing with me, your fiancé, so who else was I going to dance with? Myself?"

"Yes," Gabriel replied, sounding calm and unfazed, and looking it. Foster growled and shoved him, hard. Gabriel stumbled backward and took a few seconds to regain his balance. When he did, he glanced at Foster, his glare cold and almost inhuman. "And you just took me at my word, unlike every other time you've asked me to do something. You made a beeline for her, of all people, that slut, and you just let her drape herself all over you? Oh, yeah, Foster, it's really all my fault for saying no."

"Oh, so you just expect me to not respect your wishes?" Foster snorted. "Be someone I'm not?"

Gabriel was suddenly in his face, gripping Foster's arm, his fingernails digging in painfully. "You've never had any problem with it before," he snarled, "You just take and take and take, with only the thinnest idea of consent. I didn't ask for you to be my friend, I didn't ask for you to take it upon yourself to reform me, but oh no, Foster has to save everyone, even the big bad wolf, the man who murdered his brother!" On the last word, he twisted Foster's arm behind his back and shoved him into the door. "Did you ever think," he whispered in Foster's ear, his voice unnaturally soft after all of the yelling he'd done, "that maybe I liked who I was before this? Before you turned me into this pathetic thing, who only thinks about how much he loves you and how lucky he is that you've taken pity on him..."

Without warning, Gabriel stepped away, leaving Foster to steady himself against the door before turning slowly around. "Well, hell," Foster said. "I love you too, honey."

Happy Birthday Emma!

Happy Birthday to my best buddy ever! You are awesome and nice and funny and I love you to bits. You are definitely the best friend I could ever ask for.

For you....

Peter throws a party

Peter smiled. The sounds of laughter and conversation permeated the room. He heard a knock on the door and he went to answer it.

"John! Kevin! How are you? Glad you could make it. Drinks are in the kitchen, foods on the table." He moved out of the way to let them in.

The party was in full swing and everything was going great. Peter looked around the room, smiling. Then he saw Gabriel.

Gabriel stood against the wall, his face showing his panic. Every time someone put a cup down on the coffee table and not on a coaster, Gabriel flinched. Peter could see him twitching right now to start cleaning up. He made his way over to him.

"How's it going Gabe?" Peter grinned.

Gabriel swung his head to look down at him. "It-it's going good." Gabriel's finger's twitched again as he saw someone knock the potato chip bowl off the table.

"Gabe, it'll be ok. Just relax and enjoy. You know most everyone here. Go mingle!" Peter gave the tall man a shove.

Gabriel gave him a dirty look before he headed out into the crowd. Peter shook his head.

Peter mingled, saying hi to friends, stopping for short times to talk. He wandered into the kitchen to get something to drink. Calvin was there, talking to Gabriel.

"I'm telling ya mate, it's not that complicated." Calvin said.

"I know you think it's easy, but it's not." Gabriel answered, jaw clenched.

Oh, oh. This doesn't look good. Peter stepped between the two men. "Calvin! When did you get here?" Peter gave him a kiss. Calvin frowned at him.

"A little while ago. I was just telling yer friend here he needs to loosen up and ta take the stick out of his arse!"

"Excuse me." Gabriel said tightly, walking away.

"Calvin, we've had this conversation. I know that Gabriel's a little uptight, but…"

"Yer brother is little uptight. That git is wound tighter then the clocks he works on."

Peter sighed. "Come on, I've got some people I want you to meet." He grabbed Calvin's arm, dragging him into the crowd.

Thirty minutes of listening to Calvin make snide remarks about everyone there and Peter needed a break. He wandered off to talk to some other people, leaving Calvin talking with Noah.

"Hey Mavin! Where's June?" He clapped his hand on the cop's meaty shoulder.

"Home. She wasn't feeling good. Great party." He lifted his cup up in salute.

"Thanks man, glad you could come. I hope June's feeling better soon."

"So do I." Marvin sighed. "The baby is keeping her up most nights. She can't sleep or even get comfortable. She keeps saying she feels like a beached whale. One more month to go. Hey, you might want to talk to Gabriel, I think he's feeling a little put out." He poked his chin towards the tall man.

Peter turned towards Gabriel. He was at it again. Peter watched as he started lifting cups and setting coasters underneath them. Gabriel then wandered over to the garbage can, taking the full bag out and replacing it. When he picked up a scrubby and started cleaning the counter off, Peter huffed out a breath. He strode towards his friend.

"Gabe!" Peter snapped.

Gabriel jumped. He hid the scrubby behind his back as he turned around. He looked at Peter guiltily. 

"Peter! I-I didn't see you there." A blush crawled up his face.

"Gabe, I've had this conversation with you ten times today!" He grabbed the scrubby from behind Gabriel's back. Gabriel looked down at the floor. Peter sighed. "Look Gabe, this party is for you too, you're supposed to be having fun. Not cleaning!" He threw the scrubby in the sink. Gabriel whimpered.

"But Peter, I was just trying to make it easier for later. So we wouldn't have so much to clean up." His hands inched towards the sink.

"Too bad. This night is cleaning free. You promised, remember?" Peter grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away from the sink.

"But I didn't think you were serious!" Gabriel exclaimed, looking back towards the sink. Peter kept dragging him out into the crowd. He went up to the nearest person.

"Claire! Glad you came." He gave her a peck on the cheek. "Gabe, you remember Claire, right? You guys should talk." He gave Gabriel a 'stay put and behave' look. Claire chuckled before turning to Gabriel, asking him how work was going. Gabriel brightened up and started telling her all about the newest watch he was working on.

Claire flashed Peter a 'You owe me' look. He smiled and nodded, wandering off into the crowd.

An hour and a few drinks later, he was having the time of his life. The party was getting louder and everyone seemed to be having a good time. He came up behind Calvin and wrapped an arm around his waist. Calvin growled at him, but didn't move away. Peter just gave him a lopsided grin.

"Like I was saying," Sally continued, giving Peter a nod "I think it's so cool that people are starting to care about the earth! I really think that everyone should do what they can for the environment and stuff. My boyfriend and I are going around, explaining how we're killing the earth with all of the toxins we're pumping into the air. How people shouldn't smoke and drive and stuff."

"Get me away from her before I ring her bloody neck." Calvin growled at Peter out of the side of his mouth.

"Excuse me Sally; I really need to borrow him for a little while." Peter gave her his most charming smile and pulled Calvin away.

" Finally! I dinna think she'd ever shut up!" 

"She's not so bad." 

Calvin just snorted at him. He was just leaning in for a kiss when there was a crash behind them.

"Shit. I'll be right back." Peter headed for the noise.

By the time he got to where he had heard the crash, he found Gabriel there, cleaning the broken vase off of the floor. Gabriel looked up at him.

"I wasn't cleaning! I just needed to…clean…" He looked back down at the floor.

"It's ok Gabe, this time you should clean up. We can't leave broken glass on the floor."

"Peter," He started to ask "when is the party going to be over?" Gabriel was looking frustrated.

"Not for a while Gabe. Come on, you're having fun aren't you?"

"I guess." Gabriel shrugged as he dumped the pieces of glass into the garbage.

Peter noticed the newest person to join the party. "I think I see something that will make the party more enjoyable for you Gabe." He waved his hand at the other person who waved back.

Gabriel looked up. A huge smile brightened his whole face up and he headed towards the person.

"Jordan!" He cried out, giving the other man a huge hug.

Jordan laughed. "Hi Gabriel. How are you holding up?"

"Better now that you're here." He gave Jordan a big kiss.

Peter shook his head. He headed back into the crowd.

The party finally broke up when the police pounded on the door. Peter apologized for the noise and thanked the policemen for coming. He started herding people out the door. Sighing with relief, he shut the door on the last person. Turning around, he saw Calvin sprawled out on the couch.

"You could've helped you know."

"Why? Not my party." Calvin finished off his beer.

Peter just rolled his eyes. His glance fell on Gabriel who looked panic stricken, his breath coming out in pants. Jordan had a hand on his shoulder, whispering into his ear. Peter couldn't guess why Gabriel was so upset.

There were empty and half-filled paper plates littering every piece of furniture in the living room. Cups overflowed the various garbage cans. What looked like a piece of cake was smeared on the wall. Ground up potato chips littered the floor. Part of a sandwich was shoved in between two books. Pieces of clothing hung from various lamps. How did I miss that fun? In the kitchen, guacamole dip and chip dip dripped down the counters. Someone had spilled a drink on the floor and had walked through it. Ice cubes quietly melted on top of the table. Empty and nearly empty alcohol bottles lined up along a counter and something was caked on the stovetop. And it smelled like someone had gotten sick in the sink.

It had been a great party!

Peter notice that Gabriel had closed his eyes, his hands clenched in tight fists. Jordan whispered more urgently in his ear. Gabriel gave a sharp nod and headed for his bedroom. Jordan walked over to Peter.

"It was a good party Peter. Gabriel's feeling a little…overwhelmed. Maybe if you could clean up a little before you go to bed?" Jordan looked Peter firmly in the eye.

Peter suddenly felt guilty. Maybe he should clean up a little, to make Gabriel feel better. He nodded his head, looking at the floor. Jordan patted his shoulder and went into Gabriel's room.

"Well, guess that's my cue to leave." Calvin got up from the couch, heading for the door.

"Oh no you don't! You're going to help me clean up." Peter grabbed his arm.

"Why would I do that?" Calvin frowned, looking down at the hand on his arm.

"Because. If you don't, you're not getting any loving for a long, long, looooong time." He breathed in Calvin's ear. Calvin gave him a dirty look, but started picking up the paper plates. Peter grinned, heading into the kitchen.

He threw the empty bottles into a garbage bag. He dug around under the kitchen sink, finding Gabriel's bleach and bucket. He started to put the bucket into the sink to fill it with water, when he realized that whoever had puked in there hadn't cleaned it up. He reached back under the cupboard and grabbed Gabriel's gloves. He started scrubbing.

Calvin had finished picking everything up in the living room and even had managed to scrub the cake off of the wall. He joined Peter in the kitchen; sitting at the table and watching him sweat and scrub the stove top.

"Why ya doing this again?" Claude asked, watched Peter's whole body move as he scrubbed.

"Because Gabe is my friend and my roommate and it's not fair to him." He blew his bangs out of his eyes. What the hell is this stuff? He added some more cleaner to the stain and started scrubbing harder.

"Don't see the point." Calvin grumbled.

"You wouldn't. Gabriel's put up with a lot of my shit and I'm just trying to pay him back. That includes dealing with you." He glanced over at Calvin, grinning. Calvin ignored him.

Looking over the kitchen, he saw it was as clean as he could make it. He'd have to finish it in the morning; hopefully Gabriel wouldn't be too upset. Maybe Jordan would help keep him calm. He placed all of the cleaning supplies back under the sink.

"C'mon, let's go to bed." He headed towards his room, Calvin following.

Peter came stumbling out of his room. The bright light coming from the window shot daggers into his eyes. I'm not doing that again. At least not until next weekend. As he blindly entered the kitchen, he nearly fell over Gabriel.

"Gabe, what are you doing?" Peter caught the handle of the fridge and got his balance back.

"Sorry Peter, I was just scrubbing the floor." Gabriel sat back, looking up at Peter.

Peter looked around the kitchen. It was spotless. Gabriel threw the scrub rag into the bucket. He got up, dumping the nearly black water into the sink before rinsing both bucket and sink out.

"Gabe, you didn't have too, I was going to finish up this morning." Peter said, frustrated at his friend.

Gabriel shrugged. "It's okay, I couldn't sleep anyways."

"How long have you been up?" Peter could see the dark circles under Gabriel's tired looking eyes.

"A while. I think I woke up about 4."

Peter gave Gabriel a dirty look. The party had ended at 2 and Peter and Calvin had gone to bed about 3:30. It was now 10. 

"So you've been up most of the night and morning cleaning? Damn it Gabe, we talked about this!"

"I know, but you threw the party and I thought it was only fair if I cleaned up." He put his supplies away.

Peter sighed. It wouldn't do any good to argue with Gabriel, it was just the way he was wired. 

"Go back to bed, Jordan's probably wondering where the hell you are. I'll make some breakfast later. I won't make a mess, promise." He said as he saw the worried look cross Gabriel's face. He pushed the taller man back into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Peter shook his head. "Now, where did I put that pancake mix?"