A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS! HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

So, I'm sure many of you figured me for dead. Nope, I was just extremely burnt out post-grad from college. Took me years to find my inspiration again and they sucked. I would like to give thanks to some authors who nurtured me along during these difficult times so I didn't completely give up. These people kept my imagination alive even though it was struggling to breathe. Thank you, Vathara, Lanning Cook, Jedibuttercup, Tallihensia, Elayna, seekergeek, Mercedes Lackey, Wen Spencer, Patricia Briggs, and so many others.

Now on to the show.

Deceiving Oneself, Deceiving Others

(Virgil's POV)

My worst fears have always been the 'what ifs?' You know the kind that star in a thousand scifi shows. "What if I'd run instead of walked?" "What if I'd taken a left and not a right?" "What if I'd moved faster?" "What if I'd saved her?" "What if we all grew pointy beards?"

Usually, my nightmares were filled with such post hoc reflections. Lately, oh just the past few years or so, that meant the reels of my fights or other trials of superheroing. Then throw in some school anxieties (not the traditional show up in your underwear but more the 'what if books get bang babied and start eating heads') and I figured I my head was a well rounded mess. But these days it was an unending replay of: 'What if I hadn't been able to stop her?'

Tonight's horror show ended with a long sustained horn blast.

As I turned my head to the wall, still panting with suppressed screams, I decided that never in my life had I been happier that Dakota isn't quiet even in the middle of the night.

Yet, I still saw the images playing out again. This nightmare had ended but my mind had not let it go.

*She moved with Richie in shadows on that bed. Their naked bodies slithering across each other in a horrific parody of love making. Dream me wanted to close my eyes, not wanting to witness how I failed my best friend. Watching him be raped made me want to blind myself*.

Now laying in the dark of reality I cursed my memory. I'd seen and touched her body and I knew I never would forget it. It was burned into my soul like a brand of shame. It really didn't help that I knew Richie's body as well as my own. And that bed, I had lain there too. Knowledge thus supplied my nightmares with too much substance to be shaken off easily.

Tonight, with its thankfully broken sleep, was no exception. I was helpless to stop my mind from replaying its nasty conjuring.

*This version had me standing in the corner as a silent observer. Tears had trickled down Richie's cheeks painting shiny trails. His eyes had bored into mine begging me silently to make it stop all the while his body continued the ancient rhythm of sex. In my head I was yelling for her, screaming and alternatively pleading, but my lips wouldn't move.*

*Betrayal grew in Richie's eyes at my silence. Then she'd looked up. Her cherry red lips forming into a perfect smirk. Seconds later her head dropped back as she fell shaking into orgasm. I could see Richie become rigid as he followed.*

Even now the false memory killed me a little.

*When she rolled off him, Richie lay limp and broken. Naked and glistening in her aftermath she'd advanced toward me. In the dream I had relived the involuntary lust I'd felt in her presence. *

*Arousal clouded dream me's every thought, even halfway corrupting my disgust, but I had managed to maintain my focus on my best friend. He, however, turned away from me. Breaking our connection, he curled into a fetal ball. *

*Then she was on me attacking my lips passionately- and though I wanted to gag- I could still feel my body thrumming. All I could see were her eyes digging and ripping into me. They seethed with her perverse enjoyment as she greedily stole pieces of my soul with every press of her flesh.*

*When she'd pulled away, I could see the bed was a pool of blood, so much blood that it was dripping slowly, loudly to the floor. Richie's wrists were gapping wounds torn open and oozing. He lay there naked and dead, his skin taking on that waxy look that corpses have. *

Horror and gut rending grief followed me into waking as some asshole laid on the horn.

Closing my eyes in the dark I reminded myself again that it hadn't happened. It would never happen. She was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. And I would never betray Richie like that. I loved him; nothing was going to keep me from protecting him.

My heart still felt bruised and my body still quaked. The nightmares had started getting really bad after I realized I was in love. I don't know why, maybe because shortly after that day Richie stopped spending half his nights in my bed. While part of me was glad he was moving past what happened and sleeping sounder, without me, another larger part wanted him back here in my arms where I could feel him breathe and know he was safe.

Safe. Irrationally, I felt he'd be safe here, in this house surrounded by my love and my family.

Willfully ignoring the fact that my house had been attacked several times already and wasn't exactly any sort of safe haven. Dad was still really pissed he had to replace the front door.

In a weird way that really didn't matter. Home was one of the few places I truly relax and I wanted Richie to be a part of that. I missed him here. It was like even without Richie in our house a ghost of him remained, a feeling of something there even when you know it isn't. I've even caught Dad mid-question to an invisible Richie a few times.

Calmer now that my mind had distanced itself from my nightmare I rolled out of bed. There was no going to back to sleep right away after that much adrenalin soaking terror. No, what I needed was a hot cup of cocoa. The way Mom used to make it on nights when thunder would scare little boys into his parents' bedroom.

Careful on the stairs in the mid-morning light I scratched my collarbone. I wasn't really tired anyway. Lately, I'd sort of felt crackling with energy despite my interrupted sleep. Heck, last week I fought Ebon, who is probably my strongest enemy- though it grinds me to admit even in my own head. Kicked his ass and didn't even have to work at it.

I noticed after the fight Richie had thrown me a few odd looks. I think he's got a theory but doesn't want to say anything yet. He's not as talkative as before. My mind whispered.

Suddenly angry I slammed the cocoa tin against the counter.

Noticing the little things like that is the worst. They come at you out of no where and make everything fresh again. Prying off the lid I grabbed a smallish pot from under the sink. A couple of loose pots and pans crashed down on each other. I winced at the racket. With a sigh I set the pot on the stove and got the milk. No matter what happens we'll never escape her totally. She's going to haunt us forever. I just hope that with time we'll see her less. That we'll be able to heal.

As I poured the powder I could help but wistfully thinking, That maybe someday Richie will be able to love me.

(Sharon's POV)

There is nothing more annoying than being jerked awake an hour before you have to get up anyway. At that point there's no use and trying to go back to sleep. Lying there trying to get back to oblivion is just an exercise in frustration.

Therefore, when woken from my nice warm dream involving the water of Fiji lapping at my toes and fruity drinks I decided to go and share my joy with whoever had wrecked my morning by clanging around.

Pissed and not caring who knew it, I stalked into the kitchen in my pink terrycloth robe and my fuzzy pink slippers. I knew I wasn't exactly a figure to strike fear into the hearts of evil doers, but anyone with half a brain would take one look at my face and know the death of a thousand cuts.

Hrumph, if they're up at this hour 'half' is probably all they've got. Yanking open the kitchen door however, I almost face planted, momentum trying to carry my body forward when my brain had already ceased all motor functions. My brother was crying. Over, I took a deep breath, what smelled like a pot of hot cocoa.

Silent tears aside, I knew this was serious trouble. Cocoa. Uh-oh. As far as I know Virgil hasn't touched the stuff since Mom'd died. It was one of her favorite cure-alls. I could remember many a problem becoming small sharing a cup with her. Whatever demons had been driving my brother lately I got the feeling that they'd decided to disturb his slumber as well- with a vengeance.

Gently releasing the door, I moved into the kitchen and sat.

It took a few moments, but when my oblivious brother turned around he stopped dead. Shock overlaid his water filled eyes. Hastily, he swiped his face obliterating the revealing tear tracks as well as his look of confusion, replacing it with belligerence.

Before he could get out the scathing - and I was positive distraction motivated- remark I could see twisting his lips I calmly stated, "I'd like a mug." Virgil blinked clearly caught, and stood frozen for a moment but then continued on his way to the cup cabinet. He kept a wary eye on me the whole time. I tried to keep my face serene and nonjudgmental. Hopefully, with his defenses down I could finally catch him in a mood to have a serious talk.

Virgil turned off the burner and carefully poured the chocolaty mixture into the blue coffee mugs. He handed me one and sat still clearly feeling caught out since he still hadn't tried to muddy the situation with what passes for his wit.

Gripping the warm porcelain, I took the opportunity to unabashedly look at my brother like I hadn't had the chance to since the eating contest months ago. Slumped in his chair, head determinedly down, Virgil appeared to be trying to look utterly fascinated with the contents of his own mug. Whatever vulnerability may have dragged him out of bed and forced him to tears was now firmly shut down. My brother had walled himself in again. He was managing to avoid me while still being in the same room.

Stalling for time I took a sip. I rolled the hot liquid around my mouth savoring the taste. Virgil had hit it just right. Just a light touch of vanilla and cayenne to brighten the chocolate flavor. It called forth memories. Like my third grade crush on the bad boy Tommy Jennings who had the biggest collection of baseball cards in the class and no interest in cootie contaminated girls. Mom made it seem so easy. I spilled my guts every time.

Mom's tactics were out. Virgil and I didn't have that sort of relationship. I felt a pang at that but not a sharp one. I never wanted to be his mom, part of the reason I let our relationship get so bad after Mom's death, but…

That meant falling back on what I knew. I set my mug down solidly and set my gaze on Virgil's bowed head.

Humans aren't that far removed from the caves, our hunter instincts recognize a challenge as well as any predator and a lot of human interactions are still based on those 'base' urges.

Haven't been studying all these years for nothing me.

Virgil couldn't resist for long. He snapped. "What?"

Deliberately, I hung onto my composure when my first, and I could admit it, ingrained reaction was to reach across the table and whack him, "You know you can talk to me about anything right?"

Little bro snorted in disbelief. "Since when?"

That stung, the years had worn away a lot of our closeness and the bitter truth was we hadn't talked much during them. Scream, yes. Taunt, yes. Sarcasm each other into submission, most definitely. But Virgil knew he could have come to me.

Softly, to make sure there was no miscommunication, I gave him all the answer we Hawkins would ever need to such nonsense, "We're family."

Silence dragged on as this time Virgil refused to meet my eyes.

Internally, I sighed, No way could this possibly be easy. If this went too long Virgil was going to get up and leave before I could drag anything out of him. And since our conversation wasn't going very well anyway why not go for broke and ask what'd been bugging me for months. "Why don't you just tell Richie you're in love with him?"

I imagine he was concentrating so hard on ignoring me and what I'd asked was so out of the range of what he expected that the truth came out before he knew what he was saying, "Because with what happened I don't think he could handle something like that right now…" Virgil's head jerked up eyes full of dismay. I would have been almost comical how wide his eyes were if it weren't for the strong shading of fear.

My first reaction was a sense of triumph. Ha, I knew it! I smiled broadly trying to relieve some of the tension radiating from my bro. "What? I'm supposed to be shocked? So you're fruity as a box of apple jacks. Come on. I already knew." Then, I frowned. Wait. Something's funky. Something's 'happened'?

I eyed my brother and he was still majorly twitchy. I was missing something. I couldn't recall any big family announcements. They hadn't had a fight. If anything Richie had been living here more than usual, hanging around in his big bulky sweaters, draped all over Virgil.

Although… Richie'd seemed to be sort of trying to fade into the woodwork. And he wasn't so much as 'draped' but burrowing into…

Frowning harder, I realized that Richie had always found some excuse to leave the room when I came in and he was alone. Actually, he'd been downright skittish. I hadn't been within arms reach of him in months. And hell isn't it summer? Why is Richie still wearing sweaters?

Suddenly, it was my turn for the bug eyed trick as the pieces came together. I serve as volunteer counselor in my father's underprivileged community center. While we didn't have the quantity of crime of New York or Gotham we suffer our share of the same sort of poverty induced desperation and bitterness. Young men who know, consciously or not, that most likely there is nothing ahead of them but a brutal death and/or long prison sentences act on that anger. Father doesn't like it, still wants to protect me from the world's evils, but at Freeman Center I've served as the non-judgmental and sympatric ear to many of their victims. And occasionally, the perpetrators.

Therefore Richie's particular actions rang an ominously familiar bell. "Shit. Virgil are you saying…?" Virgil blanched. I gripped my mug until my hand hurt. In my mind's eye I saw Richie being dragged into a dirty back alley by a hulking shadowy figure. Or a braying bunch of jackals wearing human skins, egging each other into sadism. The pain and humiliation to follow… my imagination thankfully failed. It was too big for me. This is someone I know, someone who is like another little bro to me. My someday brother-in-law.

Even already knowing this answer I asked, "Please tell me you went to the police."

Virgil shook his head vigorously. "No." He looked appalled at the suggestion.

I didn't want to say it but I had to, "You know they never stop. People who commit," I paused to find a gentler way of putting it. Being blunt is more my way but I'd never been so close before. "…that kind of assault are compulsive. And you know hiding it never helps the victim."

Virgil's eyes flashed with anger, "I handled it."

Sucker punched and in shock I know my mouth was hitting the table top. There was no give in that statement. It was cold as the faces of so many of the post-juvie hall students I'd gone to school with, ones who had seen death on one end or the other.

Guns and knives aren't hard to come by in Dakota. It would be so easy for Virgil to get hold of…

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and shoved that possibility into the recesses of my mind. I didn't want to know. I really truly didn't. Because I don't know what I'd do after. Who I'd be.

Moving past and completely ignoring any admission of… whatever Virgil was admitting to I opened my eyes and changed the subject. "Is Richie at least seeking help?"

Even if Richie hadn't been sexually assaulted, some sort of trauma had occurred. Obvious personality changes don't spring from nothing. Some stressor had invoked defensive behaviors which could become permanent if not addressed.

Virgil's face had a familiar mulish look reminiscent of his terrible twos when he refused to eat his peas and carrots.

Sigh. "I'll take that as a no." I rolled my eyes. Men. They think talking about your feelings is worse than death. Knowing the answer already I asked,"Are you?" The question shocked him into dropping his jaw. Dumbass. Like can't tell he's hurting too. Dredging up a bit of humor from somewhere I couldn't help but think, These two definitely need couples therapy.

(Richie's POV)

Thin slivers of amber light streaked the half finished projects and tools lying on my work bench. Wire filaments trailing from the tips of my new gloves seemed to shift and sparkle as if touched by life. I wasn't going to finish them tonight. Maybe I never would. In fact that hammer was looking might-tee tempting.

After all it wasn't like I could poke out my new and improved eyes. Not without a disturbing Oedipus reference, which any Freudian would have a field day with (those sex fiends). But I really wanted to rid myself of the constant reminders of all the changes that had happened lately; things that had taken our already highly complicated lives and transformed them into unholy messes.

With a snort I went back to contemplating the glass of scotch sitting in front of me. I'd pinched the bottle from Mr. Hawkins "For-Company" liquor cabinet. Didn't think he'd notice, hadn't seen him drink- ever. Unlike my father, who only drinks manly (not to mention cheap) beer and quite a bit of it. Not the best stuff to get well and truly wasted on. Plus, I didn't want my old man noticing me anytime soon.

Had to admit though for a poisonous substance scotch was pretty; the high intensity light I use for my work warmed and reflected its amber glow. Still, I didn't know if I could take the first sip.

But oh, how I wanted to. I craved the oblivion it offered. Honest to God, I just wanted to cease thinking. Forget everything. Make it all stop. Be one with the frickin' universe long enough that I could leave this hell on earth. Television told me that this was a good way to go about it. If many a hard bitten, but still strikingly handsome, cop could drown their mental screams at a local bar it should work for me too.

I'd briefly considered this step before. My brain hadn't ever fully shut off since my exposure to the gas supercharged it. When I felt like screaming to drown out the stampede of ideas battering my skull there was certainly an appeal to the idea of getting stupid drunk.

Still, I'd managed to work through it without resorting to what I felt might become a crutch. I fear if I crawl into the bottle maybe I won't be able to find my way out.

This was the last straw though. I couldn't take it anymore. I closed my eyes on my tears. Why? What, was I Marquis de Sade in a previous life? Wet and painful breaths clogged my throat.

Damn Alva to the depths of hell. It was all his fault. If the morally bankrupt billionaire hadn't made that machine to revive his pigeon perch of a son I wouldn't have developed this damn Empathy and my heart wouldn't be breaking into a million pieces.

At first I didn't realize what I was feeling. But slowly, despite my denials, I found myself facing a horrifying conclusion.

One, I doubted my strength to survive.

For a while I knew something was different…was wrong. Vee was just a hair slower to touch me, just enough that I noticed the hesitation. Hell, what was worse and more damning proof was his emotions were jumbled and un-him like. I may love him but Vee's usually a point A to B guy.

So, finally I decided -for his own good- to pry into our connection. I had tried not to consciously use it before, it felt like an invasion. In fact in general I'd been trying not to use any aspect of my new power. At first I thought it would be just another asset from the Bang but it made me feel like a peeping tom.

Despite my unease about the morality my connection to Vee remained there, constantly, hovering between us telling me things whether I wanted it to or not. It was incredibly and terrifyingly easy to just let it. With practice it no longer felt like his emotions were having to shout to get through. It didn't hurt as much to receive them and I started picking up all the subtle shades. It sucked ass.

In the end it took a few days to analyze the input I was receiving. I've discovered emotions don't come with instructions and detailed diagrams.

My conclusion, after several samplings, was that whenever we were together Vee felt confused and ashamed- and damn it to hell- like he was in love. Oh, if only that were true.

But he wasn't, not really. My best friend was only feeling my love for him through our blasted link. Not realizing this, boneheaded Vee figured they were his own, just as I sometimes couldn't separate myself from outside emotions.

Confused and ashamed, man do I feel that now Vee was suffering from gay impulses pushed on him by the man who was supposed to protect him. He didn't know what to do with that and I was hurting him. And I was hurting me.

Fuck it. With one swift move I grabbed the glass and knocked it back. Immediately the world tilted 35 degrees then swung back 180. I blinked a few times but that didn't improve the situation, in fact suddenly it was fuzzying around the edges. Someone knocked my glasses off. Then I remembered I didn't need them anymore. Things were graying out. My last thoughts were, Well, this works too.

(Virgil Pov)

Hopefully, I said something that made sense to Sharon before I rushed out the door. Yet, for all I know in my panic I knocked her out cold and she's taking an involuntary nap on the kitchen table.

Richie's gone. From one heartbeat to the next the piece of his soul connected to mine was snuffed out. I never feel as much from it as I know Richie must from me. Its not my power after all. Mostly I receive vague impressions, but its there all the time as a sort of warm spot. Even when Richie sleeps I feel his presence in my mind. To have Richie suddenly removed… He had to be dead.

Oh, God he can't be dead. He's not dead. Oh, God he's dead. My mind kept looping those sentences in hamster wheel panic mode.

How I managed to get to our hideout I also haven't a clue. One minute I was in my kitchen, the next I was breaking down our door. My worst fears seemed to be confirmed when I saw the limp body crumpled on the cold concrete.

However, before I could loose the wail of anguish that had been building in my chest since that first horrible moment of emptiness I spied a tipped over bottle of alcohol resting on the workbench. Taking a second look at Richie I could tell that he had simply slipped to the right and fallen off his favorite stool. Luckily, it was a short and unobstructed fall; he lay in a awkward heap on his right side legs akimbo.

I choked out a sobbing laugh of relief. Rushing over to my unconscious -Not dead- friend I knelt and touched Richie's alcohol flushed face. Its warmth reassured me even more than the red cheeks.

Lying on the cold floor was my best friend in this world. I know him better than I know myself. And I knew how this had happened.

Richie is not one to face his problems head on. He likes to linger in denial for a while. I knew he hadn't looked at the research I had given him about psychic abilities. It was a risk but I didn't want to force him. He'd been handling this new power by ignoring it as far as I could tell. I tried to bring it up a few times but Richie brushed me off.

With a sigh that turned into a grunt I lifted my friend bridal style from his hard and cold resting place. Richie's deep even breath tickled the side of my throat where his head was tucked in close. Swallowing, I considered the one common thread amongst some of the questionable facts in that research was that alcohol acts as a psychic suppressant. In fact many self medicate with it to nullify abilities. Conversely, it was stated that caffeine is good for buoying a psychic who has drained themselves.

At least I know that the alcohol bit is accurate. Actually, it made a lot of sense that it had knocked him out. After all, between being empathic and his hyper intelligence Richie's entire brain was probably psychic-ly charged. Disrupt that energy and instant shut off. I swallowed thickly. Christ it could have killed him. I shivered unnerved by that very real possibility.

Worry renewed, I gently placed Richie on his side on the den couch. After shifting my sleeping beauty's body around like a big limp doll- not as easy as TV makes it look- so that he would be comfortable when he woke. I couldn't resist giving his cheek a brief caress.

Baby soft. The fine hairs and downy skin begged for a further petting but instead I pulled my hand away. My pants were already feeling uncomfortably tight. I will not molest my friend while he is unconscious.

With a heavy sigh I sat on the coffee table. I almost sat on my hands to remove temptation. But that was too childish even for me.

Gazing at the lax features of one's love is supposed to bring joy and happiness to one's heart, at least it does in all the romance tales. But in reality, looking at Richie, mostly I felt a deep worry.

I thought he was getting better. I thought we both were- nightmares not withstanding. What was so bad now that Richie was desperate enough to try and get drunk? If this had happened a month ago I wouldn't really have been surprised. But now? And why wasn't he talking to me about it? Throughout everything Richie had clung to me like static cling. Even though I suspected he was avoiding everyone else he'd never flinched from me.

A voice deep inside whispered. Maybe he never did recover. Maybe Richie had put on a mask even for you and could just no longer maintain it under the crush of his pain. The thought that I'd failed him so badly that he thought booze was the answer made my heart feel as if Ebon was crushing it in his hand.

（Richie's POV）

Waking up was the worst thing I'd ever experienced. The pain that throbbed from behind my eyes was bouncing around my skull. No bouncing wasn't right; it was more like someone had used a grapefruit spoon to peel every single one of the nerve endings in my head. Even the ones in my teeth. I hadn't felt this awful when my appendix burst and I was sliced open like a loaf of French bread or when Alva's easy bake oven was literally sucking the life from me to revive his fruitcake of a son.

Groaning in pain I reached for my pillow to smother myself and end it all. Disconcerted when I couldn't find it I opened my eyes.

Bad. Bad. Bad. I corrected that mistake as soon as possible. As payment for the stabbing pain, I'd gotten a quick and fuzzy glimpse of Vee and our crappy HQ den.

I heard a soft curse and some rustling, and then Vee pressed what felt like a couple of pills in my hand. Silently thanking god， I quickly dry swallowed them. The feeling of hard little pills moving slowly down my esophagus was a joyful addition to my misery.

"Jeez Richie, there's water too." The dewy glass was shoved into my hand and I gulped it down. Ambrosia. I hadn't realized how dry my mouth was; in comparison with the pain I was feeling it had been a minor annoyance. With it gone and my stomach no longer protesting its emptiness, I felt less like my brain matter was going to paint the walls any minute.

As we sat in silence my mind reminded me of the how and why I came to be suffering from what I had to assume was my first hangover. I felt like snorting but didn't want to knock my brains around any more than they already had been. I did a Doc Brown. How pathetic. There would definitely be no college drinking parties for me. Less than a finger full and I was on the floor. At least it was a weakness that would be hard for villains to take advantage of.

And it did work. I forgot for a while. Bitterly, I knew that even the pain was doing its best to comply with my initial goal. It was hard to think of anything right now. But that fogginess was fading as the painkillers kicked in.

Virgil, who had been sitting still and quiet, chose that moment to speak a rush of half demanding half pleading nonsense, "Richie. We need a professional. I've been thinking and I'm sure the Bat can come up with a psychologist who we can trust."

Incredulously my eyes popped open, "What?" That was the last thing I expected to hear. I thought that Vee would lecture me for drinking, for stealing from his dad, I don't know for making him worry. Not starting to talk a about shrink.

He looked me squarely in the eye, "Richie, I found you passed out drunk. Cry. For. Help."

Blushing, I struggled to get up. "I'm fine. Besides considering his issues you think Batman knows a good shrink. Hah." I managed to get vertical but had to remain sitting so the world would level out again. My pain was fading a lot more rapidly than I would have expected. Figures, I get drunk quick, hangover quick, and then gone quick.

"I didn't say he used them." Vee grabbed my arm. "Richie…" I shook him off rising to my feet still not looking at him. I got to get out of here. I could feel his emotions pressing in on me again as the pain diminished. His worry, hurt, and dammitall love tore at my vitals.

He didn't let it go, following me to the door. "NO. You can't go. We need to come up with a solution. Things are obviously not getting better-" He grabbed my arm again. Touch amplifies things, I know that. But the shock of his feelings hit me again. This time I turned and shoved him away and then kept shoving Virgil until he hit the wall. Every time my hands touched him I got more and more enraged as I was tortured by what I desperately wanted but was just a mirage.

"Stop it. Stop it. Stop it." I cried. "Stop pushing me, stop touching me, and stop feeling that." I hadn't meant to go so far. I halted when I saw the look on his face.

(Virgil's POV)

No. I tried so hard… My whole body turned to lead with shock and horror. Richie knew. He knew and that's why he'd drunk himself into a coma. I'd wrecked him. And now I was looking at his back because he couldn't even face me.

"I never meant to-" Stop it, your intentions don't matter. I swallowed despite the fact that my mouth felt like it was filled with glue. This was going to be my only shot to fix this. I could feel it in the air. If I couldn't then our friendship, our future, would be over. I wish he would just turn around.

Softly and with all the sincerity I could muster I began, "Before anything else Richie we're friends. As your friend I want you to be happy; and well. So much has happened and I didn't want to burden you or pressure you. When exactly my feelings for you changed, I don't know..." I shrugged helplessly.

"But when I was in the future and found out we were still partners I never even questioned it. You're always there, you always will be." Even though he wasn't looking I gestured at my side where Richie always belongs.

"On Alva's shit-hole island I almost lost you. And I realized that I would kill anyone who got in my way of getting you back." Better left unsaid is the fact that I had committed manslaughter when someone had threatened his sanity.

"You are the person I look to with my problems and my joys. The first person I want to tell everything. But as soon as I realized that I loved you I knew I couldn't tell you this. I've seen how you've pulled away from everything and everyone lately- except me. Maybe you would have felt obligated; maybe it would have scared you. I didn't know, but as your friend I couldn't risk it. How could I? God, Richie don't let this destroy you." I closed my eyes in pain and swallowed the lump trying to keep the words in, "I don't want to leave you to stand alone but if you want me to I will. Please don't make me, I swear I can control myself. I won't touch you at all." I took a deep breath to stop my babbling. Looking up I saw that Richie was staring at me with the oddest of looks on his face.

"Shut up," Richie's voice was firm but quiet. Then he grabbed my shirt with both hands and pulled. Surprised, I stumbled right into his chest. In the next moment his lips crashed into mine.

As kisses go this one started out pretty crappy, my lips were smashed into my teeth nicking against my upper incisor. I even tasted blood briefly. Thankfully, Richie rapidly let up on the pressure. That's when it got good. Soft and warm gently brushing, tingling. Richie didn't seem to know what to do past that point, not a huge surprise we've talked about every kiss and grope I've ever had but he's had nothing to share. Richie's hands were clenching and unclenching in my shirt. Gently, using the tip of my tongue I stroked his sealed lips trying to get him to open up.

(Richie's POV)

As a scientist I should know better than to make assumptions. My hypothesis- based on the observed phenomena of my best friend's actions- was predicated upon the faulty supposition that he was heterosexual. However, I had believed this to be a working theory based on observations of behavior from pre-pubescent to present time. (I.e. Kimmy, Felicia, Daisy, and Miss-Camp-Slut Tanya.)

Obviously, Vee wasn't as blinded by his preconceptions because my best friend had just spewed forth a rather rambling and heartbreaking speech that definitely showed a conscious recognition of his feelings. He'd acknowledged and analyzed them.

That's what made me realize exactly how wrong I'd been. I wasn't being tormented by a mirage.

If Vee was being forced to endure emotions not of his own making, then upon contemplation he would have come to the conclusion that they were not originating from his own psyche. Conversely, denial -the state I believed Vee resided in- would have made it easy for him to stay confused and conflicted. But he'd babbled out disclaimers and begged me. There is a God and maybe he doesn't love me, considering the past few months, but he's giving me a leg over. Vee's gay. For me.

So like any guy I decided I'd had enough of talking about my feelings. Grabbing my man I engaged in my first ever kiss. It wasn't fairy tale perfect with fireworks and choruses singing. In fact at first it felt a bit like slamming face first into a wall (something I have done before).

Thankfully, my (easy) friend knew his way around a kiss. Tongue on tongue feels so much different from any other sensation. I got the full on experience with Vee trying to taste every one of my taste buds for himself.

If this was a movie this would be the part where we would madly scramble towards the bed - or in this case the couch- shedding clothes in a flurry of lust, but life doesn't follow a script. Nor does it have the benefit of soft lighting and a foreshadowing sound track.

Every inch of me was singing hosannas, except... I tore my lips away and buried my head into Vee's neck, "God, I love you. I've loved you my whole life but," I thrust my hips forward grinding into the hot and hard erection I'd felt digging into my hip - emphasizing the lack of the same on my part. His hips involuntarily stuttered a bit, in response to the stimulation I guess, because he then stiffened. Our connection communicated his confusion and discomfort at being the only one with a woody.

"Nothing is happening," frustration and embarrassment made me blurt, "nothing has been happening since- what happened" A whole lot of nothing. My balls are turning purple.

Vee's stance softened a little. I could feel his "ah" moment breaking through the heady fog of lust when he got it. There was a touch of pity as well as longing mixed in with it. While part of me bristled at the pity, I could definitely get behind the longing. Wistfully, I wished I wasn't so damaged.

His lips brushed my temple in a soft kiss. "It's ok. It's normal with- trauma." His embrace transformed into more of a hug as I felt him letting go of the passion I had so enjoyed rousing in him, "But its one of the things, I think having a professional to help us out with, we could talk to, no pressure- would be good."

Helpless laughter bubbled out of me, "You are such a guy, you'll do anything to get into my pants."

Vee sputtered pulling away so I had to look up into his face. But his affronted, "Hey!" was full of amusement. "We haven't been together for ten minutes and you're calling me a pig. Thirty years from now I expect you'll be calling me a dirty old man."

Warmed by the prediction of our long future I pulled him close again. "If the leer fits." I snorted again. "I can't believe you asked me to marry you after telling me I needed my head shrunk."

His voice was full of wonderment, "I kind of did, didn't I?" He gave me a quick peck on the lips. "Mean it though. You and I will be together through the good times and the tough times. Just cause its rocky now doesn't mean we won't have a bright future." Teasingly he said, "I'll love you even when you're stomach gets in the way of us kissing."

"VIR-GIL!"

The End