Standing in the shrubbery of Mark's yard, Brady carefully stepped over whatever plants he could manage, being extra careful not to squash any of Brittany's flowers. Surveying the large yard, trying to figure out which end he had ended up in, he located the gate that led to the front.

When arriving at the exit, Brady peered over the top to make sure everything was safe enough to go home. But to his surprise, Riley and his gang were standing at the end of his driveway, across the street. "Shit," Brady whispered, dropping down to a crouch so that he wouldn't be seen.

After thinking for several minutes, he decided it would be best to visit with Mark for a while.

Brady followed the concrete block path around the corner and climbed the few step that led onto the patio. Hoping that his knocking at the back door wouldn't appear too suspicious, Brady swallowed once to clear his throat and lightly knocked on the glass door.

Through the glass, Brady could see Brittany in the kitchen as she put away some dishes. When she heard the knock, to Brady's surprise, she barely batted an eye.

"Hello dear," greeted Brittany as she slid open the door. "Whatcha doin' back here, Luv?" she asked, peering out into the yard.

"Sorry Mrs. Dawson." Brady fidgeted from side to side as he tried to think of a valid reason as to why he'd be in their yard. "Is Mark around?" he asked, hoping she'd dismiss the odd moment.

"Sure thing. He's up in his room pouting," she said with a smile. "He's a bit miffed at me for not letting him do anything."

"Oh," said Brady, pausing to see if she was going to invite him in or not. "So... is he allowed some company?"

"Of course, dear." Brittany stepped away from the door to allow Brady some room to enter. "Just drop your shoes off at the front on your way up."

"Yes Miss, thank you," Brady said awkwardly, unsure how he was supposed to address her and thank her in the same sentence.

"Quit calling me 'Miss'! I'm not your teacher or your mother, so call me Brittany, okay?"

Brady nodded as he slid off his shoes and picked them up. "Sorry."

"You seem a bit nervous, love. Is everything all right?"

"Yes Miss... Brittany. Just been jogging, that's all," lied Brady, partially.

"Oh dear. Looks like Mark's been rubbin' off on yuh already, huh?" Brittany observed, taking note of Brady's jogging attire.

"Yeah, I guess," replied Brady, slowly walking toward the front hall. "In his room, right?"

"Yup, and shoes at the front!" she reiterated.

Brady walked down the hall and placed his shoes near the front door, then made his way up the stairs. It felt a little strange just showing up at someone's house unannounced. He hadn't even stopped to consider that Mark may be busy, not that Brady actually had a choice.

Reaching for the door, Brady knocked three times and waited for a reply.

"Who is it?!" asked the muffled sound of Mark's voice.

"It's me, Brady!"

First hearing some shuffling and a few footsteps, Mark finally yelled for Brady to come in. When he opened the door, Mark was lying on his bed under the covers.

"What's up?" asked Mark, smiling at Brady as if he were hiding something.

"Nothing. How're you feeling?" asked Brady, stepping into the room and noticing the chair. "When did that get there?"

Mark rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration. "Dad brought it up this morning."

"Uh... okay, why?"

Mark cleared his throat and motioned his hands for Brady to come closer. "Don't worry about that. What's up?"

"Nothing. Just seeing how you're doing."

"Liar!" said Mark. "You wouldn't come over without calling. Actually, you'd probably wait for me to call you!"

Brady blushed, sitting down at the edge of the bed, still eyeing the large recliner. "Fine." Brady lowered his head, as if in shame. "I was up at the park on a jog and got..."

"WAIT!" Mark threw his arms out in front of him, fingers spread, stretched and pointed. "You went jogging?!"

"Shut up! Yeah... Anyway... I got jumped by Riley."

Mark tossed the blankets off of his lap and leaned forward, onto his knees. "Shit, you okay?" he asked, sincerely concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Actually, I think I kicked their ass... Kinda."

"Kinda?! Wait, what?" Mark rolled onto his side and then onto his back, until he reached where Brady was sitting. "You did what? What happened?"

Brady smiled, slightly embarrassed. "I shoved Riley on his ass, elbowed Jerry and kneed Allan," he listed in recollection.

"And then what?!" urged Mark, hoping there was more.

"Then nothing. I ran."

"You ran?! FUCK! Dude..."

"MARK! WATCH YOUR MOUTH!" screamed Brittany from downstairs.

Mark slapped his hands against his face, blinked, stared at Brady for a second, and then rolled to the other side of the bed. "You could've had 'em I bet! You should've finished 'em off!"

"No way!" said Brady. "The only reason I got as far as I did was because they weren't expecting it."

"So... how'd you get away?" asked Mark, rolling back toward Brady.

"Are you all right?" giggled Brady, watching as Mark smiled up at him, sprawled out flat on his back.

"Yeah, I'm great. Just bored out of my mind. Mum won't let me do anything, and I feel fine... So shut up, what happened next?"

Brady laid back on the bed, next to Mark, and began to tell him the story of his great escape. Mark listened and gasped, rolled back and forth and giggled. Every little noise or movement, struck Brady as magical. Everything about Mark seemed beautiful. The way his cheeks puffed out when he laughed, the little dimples that would from on his cheeks when his smile caused his face to redden. Then there were the looks, those Brady found to be most interesting. His eyes, at times, seemed to transform from pale-ice blue to a deep twinkling grey. And as amazing as his eyes were, it was his face that made them great. His eyebrows were always in constant movement, even when he wasn't laughing or talking, and his cheeks, so smooth and soft looking, always seemed to be changing colours, from cream all the way to crimson red, then back again in an instant.

"So what happened next?" asked Mark after a long pause from Brady. "Brady? Uh... Brady?" Mark waved his hand back and forth in front of Brady's eyes.

Brady blinked and backed his head away from Mark's hand. "What?" he asked softly.

"You kinda trailed off there. You were talking about a pug finding you a chair," Mark reminded him.

"Oh, yeah. Well that's pretty much it. When I got the chair, I hopped the fence and was here."

"You didn't run in with Riley again?"

"Actually, yeah I did... sorta. When I got to the gate out back, I saw Riley and all them standing outside my house."

"Really?" Mark sprung from his bed and ran out the bedroom, straight into James's room. "GOH!" heard Brady, from down the hall. "They're still out there!"

Mark came running back into the room. "Shit dude, you're screwed," Mark pointed out. "Guess you'll be trapped here forever then, huh?"

Brady giggled, and replied with a nod. "Or at least until my mom gets home from work."

"Nope," said Mark. "We're watching movies tonight, remember?"

"Of course I remember," replied Brady. "But I should probably run home for a shower first."

"Pfft," Mark tilted his head back, appearing as if he were about to sneeze, then suddenly snapped his gaze back toward Brady. "You could just take a shower here."

Brady felt a strange queasiness flutter about in his stomach. "Um... I dunno. Your dad might freak out."

"Nah," said Mark, jumping off of the bed. "He's not even home," he reminded Brady. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

"Fun?" Brady felt his stomach jump into his chest. "What are you saying?"

From across the room, digging in his closet, Mark turned to face Brady, smiling. "Just come on, would yuh? Stop being so worried all the time."

Before Brady could say anything, Mark had pulled him up off the bed and was directed his reluctant body toward the door. "Are you sure this is..."

Mark opened the bedroom door and peered down the hall. Seeing that the bathroom door was open and no one was in sight, he squeezed Brady's hand and pulled him out into the hall. "Just be quiet," he whispered, tiptoeing toward the bathroom.

Brady half-heartedly tried to prevent himself from being forced into the bathroom. His heart was beating so fast that it felt as if it were going to bust through his ribcage, or at the very least, be heard by Brittany and James downstairs. "Come on man, what are you doing?"

"You stink, remember?" whispered Mark, standing in front of the bathroom and looking down the hall one last time. "Come on!"

Mark pulled at Brady's arm, tugging him into the bathroom. The moment Brady was inside, he closed the door and locked it.

Brady couldn't move. He was petrified with fear. "What if someone checks on us in your room?"

Mark giggled. "Then I guess we'll have some explaining to do."

"What!?"

Noticing how pale and consumed with dread Brady was, Mark patted him on the shoulder and nudged him toward the shower. "Quit worrying. When has anyone ever come to check on us?"

Not allowing Brady the time to think, Mark walked past him and turned the taps to the shower. Brady peered over his shoulder, looking at the shower head as it hissed and started to spray water throughout the stall. "I don't even have a change of clothes," realized Brady, hoping it would be enough to end this madness.

"I got lots of clothes," said Mark, turning around to face Brady.

The two stared at each other, awkwardly. Both unsure of how or when to continue. Brady stood there, his limbs feeling limp and stiff at the same time, as he recalled his thoughts from earlier this morning, from when he was tying his shoes. He didn't think he'd really have to worry about his bodily hair... at least, not this soon, anyway.

Suddenly, Mark slipped off his shirt and threw it down on the floor. Brady felt his eyes bulge, fearing they'd pop right out of their sockets. He'd seen Mark without a shirt before, and, of course, enjoyed it. But now was different.

"You're..." Brady paused and looked at Mark's discarded shirt on the floor. "You're coming in, too?"

Mark grinned and nodded. "Course. Where's the fun in watching?"

Looking back up at Mark's bare chest then down at the shirt, Brady, for one, knew where the fun in watching was. He stepped back toward the door. At first, he was tempted to open the door and run out, but then Mark reached for the waistband of his pyjama bottoms.

His thumbs dipped in underneath the fabric as his fingers slowly caressed the flannel cloth leading against his hips. Stopping for a moment to smile at Brady's frozen expression, he bent forward and lowered his pants. Brady felt his throat involuntarily gasp. He couldn't believe what was happening, right now, with his mom and brother just down the stairs.

Mark looked up at Brady as he stepped out of his pyjamas and stood up straight. Brady's mouth had fallen open, only slightly, but enough to reveal his interest. Mark looked down at himself, wearing nothing more than a pair of dark grey Autograph boxer-briefs from Marks and Spencer, or trunks, as they call them in England.

"What's the matter?" asked Mark, still smiling. "Aren't you... you know, gonna join me?" asked Mark, sounding insecure for the first time since he and Brady were introduced.

"Uh..." Brady replied, speechless, almost dumbfounded. "Yeah..."

Mark walked up to Brady and reached for his t-shirt. "Want a hand?"

"Umm," hummed Brady, stepping back and meeting with the door. "Okay."

Mark pulled Brady's shirt up and over head, and then he tossed it on the floor. Taking a moment to look down at his bare chest and stomach, Mark grinned and placed his fingers against the waistband of Brady's black shorts. "How about now?"

Brady shook his head and stepped away from the door. "I can do it," he said in a whisper, blushing so brightly that he felt like he could glow in the dark.

Mark stepped back to allow Brady a chance to disrobe on his own and sat down on the toilet seat. Brady's eyes didn't stray once from the tiled floor. Instead, he just grabbed the sides of his shorts, gripped the material in his hand, and slid them down his legs. He then stood up straight and looked over at Mark, whose eyes were directed at Brady's black Fruit of the Loom briefs.

"I never figured you for a nickers kind of guy," said Mark, happily.

"What!?" said Brady, trying to keep his voice down, but he was overly embarrassed. "They're briefs."

"Nah," said Mark. "I've seen a lot briefer than that."

Brady shook his head and returned his gaze to the floor. "Shut up."

"I'm kidding... Well, kinda." said Mark, standing up and approaching Brady. "I'm just teasing you, I'm sorry."

Brady looked up at Mark, now standing right in front of him. "Are we, you know, moving too fast?"

"Fast for what?" asked Mark in confusion.

"Nothing. Never mind." Brady returned his eyes to the floor.

"What's the matter?" asked Mark. "We're just having a shower. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, it's just that... Well..."

"You're afraid you'll pop a wood?" thought Mark, half teasing.

"No, well yeah, but... We kissed yesterday, you know?" Brady tried to explain, but didn't know exactly how to word his thoughts.

"Yeah, I know," said Mark. "I was there too."

Brady looked Mark right in the eye. "And?"

"And what?" Then suddenly something clicked in Mark's head, Brady could almost see it in his eyes. "Oh - right. Sorry, I'm new at this stuff. I wasn't thinking. Mark sat back down on the toilet seat. "Is that what it is? You're afraid we're going to... do stuff?"

Brady suddenly felt himself become frustrated. "No. Well, maybe a bit." He stopped and chewed at his lower lip as he tried to think of how to word what he was thinking without sounding like a total nerd. "Are we...?"

"Together?" asked Mark, filling in the blank.

"Yeah."

"Like boyfriends?"

"I guess..." said Brady, nervously.

"What?"

"Boyfriends. It sounds... you know."

"Gay?"

"Yeah...." Mark stood up and stepped in front of Brady. "I just don't like the way 'gay' or 'boyfriend' sounds. It just seems too weird."

"But are we?" asked Brady, feeling more confident but still mentally crossing his fingers.

Mark raised his eyebrow and a smile found the corner of his mouth. "Well, we did kinda kiss, you know. I kinda thought that would clue us both in."

Brady's lump seemed to be growing rapidly in his chest. It felt like it was twisting and contorting as it attempted to find a new, comfy nook because its old one was now too small. Suddenly, with the smile on his face threatening to turn into an uncontrollable giggle, Brady compared himself to how the Grinch must have felt when he saved the Whos' Christmas.

"What's so funny?" asked Mark, still standing in front of Brady.

"Nothing," he replied through a muffled giggle. "So... are we, um..."

"Getting in?"

"Yeah..."

"Do you still want to?" asked Mark.

"Uh, I guess."

With that said, Mark turned around and stepped into the shower. "Aren't you coming?"

"You're um," Brady walked up the side of the shower. "You're still wearing your underwear."

"I know, dummy," Mark teased. "You're obviously freaked about struttin' your stuff, so just get in. We'll dry your clothes when Mum takes James to the dentist later."

Just about to step into the shower, Brady paused and glared at Mark. "You mean your mom's leaving?"

"Yeah," replied Mark. "Probably pretty soon."

"So... Why didn't we just wait for her to leave?"

Mark turned his head and grinned at Brady. "Because that wouldn't be as much fun."

Brady wanted to feel annoyed with Mark, due to the current situation, but as he stared at him, his body slick with water and his underwear becoming heavy, he didn't have it in him. Every part of Mark was soaked, and the water was gently gliding down his skin, defining every nook and cranny that he had to offer. The boxer-briefs, now soaked through and dark with moisture, were becoming heavier by the second and beginning to react to the forces of gravity. The slightest hint of the 'V' line could be seen, disappearing beneath fabric, and his belly glowed with the water's magical effects.

"So, uh, you coming in or what?" asked Mark, stepping back to allow room for Brady to enter.

Before Brady could reply, Mark pulled him in. The sudden shock of steaming liquid almost caused Brady to yelp. Fortunately, though, he was able to suppress the urge. Mark leaned against the shower's wall, his shoulders back and his hips forward, as Brady ran his hands over his head, allowing the water to soak into his hair.

Opening his eyes, feeling refreshed and calm, Brady stared at Mark, staring back at him. "What?" asked Brady.

Mark shook his head. "Nothing."

"No really, what?" repeated Brady, afraid that he may have a dangling snot-string or something.

Mark stepped forward, still smiling. "I dunno," he said. "I just like you."

Not giving Brady a chance to reply, Mark leaned forward, stretched out his arms, and wrapped them around Brady's shoulders. He held him tight against himself, feeling his insides, and even outsides, start to tingle. He couldn't understand it, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to, but what he did understand, though, was that here, right now, felt right.

Brady rested his head on Mark's shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist and placed his hands against the small of Mark's back. "I like you too."

Hearing this, Mark squeezed Brady tighter, releasing a sigh that almost sounded like a groan. He could feel Brady's hand gently rising up his back, tickling every nerve beneath his skin. Through a sudden shudder, Mark lifted his head, Brady following suit, and gently, their lips touched.

The warmth of Mark's wet lips against his own caused Brady to lose his breath. His chest felt heavy, like his core had developed its own gravitational pull, and his throat became dry and tense. Mark's fingers were slowly climbing up his back, between his shoulders to the back of his neck. Shivers burst across his skin, like backing into a spider's web, when the touch reached Brady's hair.

Mark continued moving his hand upward, his fingers now becoming woven in Brady's hair. With his other hand, as the first reached the side of Brady's head, just above his ear, Mark traced his fingers along the same path as before. Now, with both hands on either side of Brady's face, his palms against his cheeks, Mark applied the slightest of pressures and, tilting his head to the right, parted his lips to allow his tongue to explore.

Nervous at first, he traced the very tip of his tongue along Brady's top lip. Brady sighed, in the softest of breaths, and his jaw slightly dropped. With Brady's lips now separated, Mark pushed his tongue forward, slowly at first, until its tip met with Brady's. The initial contact seemed to startle them both, and they cowered away, losing confidence.

Feeling silly, Mark quivered and giggled, and his knees suddenly became weak. But as Mark began to lower, Brady held him tight, preventing them both from separating. It was then, during the movement, that Brady took initiative. His head bent forward as Mark's tipped back, and their tongues slid across one another.

Mark then regained his balance and stood up straight. With his hands moving from Brady's face, down the sides of his back, he pulled him even closer. He could feel the fabric of their underwear, wet and heavy, touch and grip together. The cotton seemed to grab like Velcro and fused their bodies together. They could feel the warmth of the others' excitement, side-by-side, penetrating deep into their skin.

Brady ran his palms down Mark's back, mimicking what he was feeling on his own, until the tips of his fingers touched the elastic of Mark's boxer-briefs. At first, he stopped, unsure if he should continue, but the temptation became too great. He, first, pressed in and let his fingers slide under the fabric, just until his nails were covered. With his nerves getting the best of him, he reversed his motion and then switched direction again, and his hands slid down over top the wet-cotton fibres.

Exploring first, his heart ceased to beat, and his hands slowly circled the softness of Mark's behind. They were well-rounded and warm, firm but soft, and hands refused to let go. Without a thought, Brady's hands cupped either side and gently squeezed. He could feel Mark's body tense against his own, and the muscles of his buttocks hardened. Their bodies pressed tighter together, so close that they could now feel the heartbeat of the other.

Just as their tongues' nervous prodding had evolved into passionate caresses, a loud, heavy knocking came from the door.

"Mark! I'm takin' your brother to the dentist's office!" announced Brittany.

Both Mark and Brady pushed the other away, nearly slipping in the process. As Brady instinctively dropped down to a crouch in the farthest corner of the shower's stall, Mark jumped out. "Okay Mum!" he yelled back with his cheek touching the door.

"Where's Brady?" she asked. "I went to check on you, but no one was there."

Mark cringed at his mother's words and looked back at Brady, who looked both nervous and angry. "Dunno Mum. Think he went home for a shower, maybe..."

"Without his shoes?!" replied Brittany, positive she had seen them at the front door.

"How should I know!?" Mark yelled back. "I've been in the shower!"

Brittany turned away from the door and started walking down the hallway. "I should be back in a few hours. I've got some shopping to do after - James needs some new clothes."

"Okay Mum!" Mark shouted back. "Have fun! Love you..."

Brittany smiled at Mark's words and walked down the stairs. Halfway down, she saw James, patiently waiting at the door and grinning up at her. "What have you gotten into?" she asked, skeptically.

"Nothin' Mum. Can we go to the toy store, too? ...If I'm good?" he asked, still smiling.

Brittany sat down at the bottom of the stairs to put on and tie her shoes. As she leaned in to grab them, she noticed that Brady's shoes were gone after all. "Hmm," she hummed to herself then looked up at James, still smiling and waiting for her reply. "All right, but only if you behave yourself the entire time we're out," she bargained.

"Deal!" said James as he turned and ran out the door.