Title: Small Reconciliation
Pairing: Kirby/Trent
Rating: T
Summery: see Chapter 1 summery
Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

Trent's small victory didn't last long. A football flew through the air and collided with the blond bully's head, knocking him off the branch. He let out a short cry as he tumbled to the ground and landed in a graceless heap on the edge of the football field.

Kirby stood shocked until Bo and Juri came running over. Bo went over and picked up the football, which lay next to Trent's head.

"Sorry 'bout that. Guess I threw it a little too far that time," Bo said, obviously not sorry. "I sometimes do that when assholes throw eggs at my friends. You know how it is."

"Better watch yourself for next time," Juri added. Bo turned to Kirby.

"You okay, man?" Kirby nodded, saying nothing but the gesture was enough for Bo and Juri. They left the field, taking the football with them. Hopkins, meanwhile, had climbed down to give a concerned nudge to Trent's uninjured side with his foot.

Kirby made a disgusted noise, looking at the egg on his hand briefly before shaking it off onto the grass. "Is he dead?" he asked Hopkins. Trent groaned, answering the question.

"Yo, Trent. How many fingers?" Hopkins knelt down, holding up two fingers infront of Trent's face. The bully stared blankly at the digits for a moment.

"My head hurts." Trent reached back weakly to rub his head and tried to sit up. "I feel like Russell just powerbombed me."

"You got hit with a football and fell out of a tree. Close enough, I guess," Hopkins stated, helping the dazed Trent to his feet. "You feeling alright enough to walk?"

"'Been through worse," Trent groaned, clutching his head and twisting his face in a grimace of pain. "Just need some asperin and I'm cool."

Jimmy nodded and began half dragging the bully toward the stairs to take him to the nurses office when Kirby coughed, pointedly.

"There's a first aid kit in the hangout." Kirby thumbed toward the storage building at the end of the field that doubled for a hangout for jocks. "It's closer and it's got a bed."

Hopkins shrugged, already knowing about the bed, and Trent was in no shape to argue. It was a better idea then dragging a heavier boy all the way to the main building just for some asperin. Kirby went on ahead, letting them decide on their own. A groan and scuffling feet on grass let the jock know they were following him.

When they reached the hangout, Kirby ended up holding the door open for Hopkins so he could drag Trent inside. He dumped the the blond bully on the mattress and quickly rearranged him so he'd be a little more comfortable. Kirby went over to the first aid kit and pulled out a couple of Tylonol.

"Hey, Hopkins," He called. Despite having kissed Jimmy numorous times, Kirby never got past being formal with the other boy. "Grab a soda?"

"Pay me back later and I will," Jimmy said back, without missing a beat. He paid for a beam cola and tossed it at Kirby. The jock caught it with little effort and looked back at Hopkins, confused.

"He's your boyfriend. You feed him the asperin." The casual answer pissed Kirby off.

"He's NOT my boyfriend!" Kirby very nearly yelled, causing Trent to groan.

"No so loud...," the bully pleaded, clutching his head with both hands. Jimmy snorted.

"Whatever, Kirby. I'm outta here." Hopkins turned to leave when Kirby loudly protested.

"What? Why me?"

"Because you got him knocked out of a tree, you have the asperin, and I said so, that's why." Without another word, Hopkins turned and left.

Kirby grumbled under his breath about how much of an ass Hopkins was before turning to Trent, who was still limp on the bed, covering his eyes and forehead with his hands.

"Sit up," Kirby ordered tiredly, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Trent tried to get up, but was unable to until Kirby helped him. The jock handed him the pills and Trent washed them down with the soda quickly. He flopped back on the mattress after handing the half empty soda back to Kirby.

"Thanks, baby," Trent mumbled, squirming a little to get comfortable. Kirby frowned but chose to ignore the endearment as he set the soda aside and stood up.

"I'm gonna run a few more laps. You can leave whenever you want."

"And leave me here all alone?" Trent asked in the most pitiful voice Kirby had ever heard a guy, other then a Nerd, use. "Harsh."

"Yeah. Whatever," Kirby scoffed and turned to leave when a hand grabbed his own.

"Stay," It wasn't an order and it didn't sound like a request. Trent looked up at Kirby steadily, waiting for the jock's answer. The ball was in Kirby's court and he was all ready to shake off the blond bully's hand and leave, but...

But...

Trent's hand covering his felt nice. Warm and firm. Just like when they held hands at the movie theater, back when Kirby was ready to try a relationship with a boy. He'd been so tense and afraid, but Trent being with him smoothed things over, made them just a little bit better. It felt a hell of alot better then being alone. And he was ready to leave Trent alone and in pain.

Kirby sighed. Trust the bully to make him feel like a shit without saying more than two words.

"Fine."

Trent's mouth curved into a weak grin as Kirby sat on the edge of the mattress, their hands still joined. Both sat in silence, which made Kirby uncomfortable. Trent still had his eyes on the jock as Kirby glanced around and shifted in his seat, unsure of what to do with himself.

A sigh came from the blond bully as he pulled his hand away. Kirby shivered a little, feeling the warmed from his hand slowly dissapating. He felt just a little bit sad that Trent had pulled their hands apart.

A large, warm hand reached up and rested on the jock's back, pushing him to lay down. Kirby fought it, looking down at Trent, whose arm was reaching around him, pulling him closer. A small encouraging smile was on the bully's face as he reached his other arm over and wrapped them both around Kirby, the pulling became a little more insistant. The smaller jock frowned again.

"Stop treating me like a chick," he grumbled in a low voice. Trent chuckled.

"You'll hold my hand but hugging makes you feel like a chick?" Trent asked, loosening his arms and reaching up to touch Kirby's face. The jock grabbed his hand before it made contact.

"Stop," Kirby ordered. A brief silance sat between them, Trent confused at how serious Kirby's face became. The jock looked as if he was wrestling with himself. He finally closed his eyes and sighed.

"What?" Trent had to ask. Kirby opened his eyes and gave the bully a weak smile. The small jock quietly climbed onto the mattress with Trent, resting on his side against the bully and looping one arm under Trent's head and the other around the bully's shoulder. He gently coaxed the blond bully to lean against him, pulling Trent's head to rest against his shoulder. Trent squirmed a little to move himself closer to Kirby, wrapping his arms around the smaller jock's torso. In a way, Trent sort of felt like he was being treated like a chick but, with his head hurting, he really didn't care.

Kirby's hand rested in Trent's hair, occasionally running his fingers through it. The bully's warm breath against his neck in steady puffs as they lay together in silence. This time, it wasn't awkward. Kirby smiled and rested his cheek against Trent's hair, closing his eyes.

"So you can hug me but I can't hug you?" Trent almost mumbled against Kirby's shirt. The jock made a noise, affirming Trent's question.

"This still doesn't make us an item," he added, quickly. Trent snorted and kissed Kirby's neck.

"Whatever you say, baby. Whatever you say."