Found this in storage, don't know why I never posted it before; but here it is three years later lol. Enjoy!

Contrary to popular belief Venice was surprisingly quite on this particular morning in early June. Though perhaps, thought Tom as he indulged in his espresso, the rush was still too come along with the sweltering heat of mid-morning weather. He smiled, lowered his empty cup on to the saucer and felt a shiver run pleasantly along his spine. The morning breeze was crispy and pleasant against his skin. Allowing him self to lean back in the chair Tom briefly glanced at his partner across the intimately spaced coffee table. As if drawn by his lover's gaze Peter lowered his morning paper in order to return the silent affection. By unspoken agreement they reached out and clasped hands under the table. Linked together and resting on Peter's thigh, Tom began to draw firm circles with his thumb, gazing fondly into his partner's rapidly expanding pupils. Funny he thinks what effect I have on this man that I have come to love; love more then anything, love even more then…

"Tom?"

The blonde startled at the familiar voice, jumping so hard his chair would have certainly tipped over had Peter not launched forward to pull him back. No he thinks, no it couldn't be him. It couldn't. But the voice, it was his. It was the voice Tom had used countless times while in bed, whispering caresses and promises with his eyes firmly shut and right hand frantically working under the covers. He needed that voice. Needed the man. Dickie. But the man was gone. The voice was gone. The scent was gone. Even the blasted saxophone that had been the catalyst for many a disagreement was now nothing but a prop in a pawn store.

"Tom!"

Then there was Peter's voice and he could breathe again; safe in the knowledge that he was loved. Perhaps even for the first time. Peter never judged, he respected his privacy and never pried too far into the whole Dickie fiasco. They were in love before they even had a chance to really get to know each other. Though Peter continuously insisted he fell in love at first sight, Tom was more reserved with his feelings; justly fearful of being hurt again. It didn't stop his longing for the dark stranger with the gentle eyes. The same eyes that were now jumping around in worry, darting between his face and the owner of the haunting voice.

Tom was happy to note he was looking well enough, though perhaps a little bit paler then on their last encounter. Then again considering that was over a year ago the blonde barely took note of it. He still looked fit and ruggedly handsome with his sandy hair tossed all over the place atop the head that held two precious azure jewels; jewels that were currently narrowed in anger.

"What the hell Tom? You've been here all along? I told you to wait for me in our flat in San Romeo."

Unable to say a word and still regarding the blonde like one might a ghost, Tom chose to remain silent; while Peter having recognized the intruder jumped from his seat and rushed to examine him better.

"By god if it isn't Dick Greenleaf! We thought you were dead man!"

"Peter," Dickie acknowledged coldly, shrugging of the hand that had landed on his shoulder. "I heard you've been living with Tom at his place, helping to renovate, or at least that's what the people say."

Peter looked a bit miffed but answered promptly. "Yes we have indeed found it more convenient if I reside with him during the course of the renovations..."

"Is that all Tom?" Dickie spoke over Peter, taking another step forward so that the only thing left separating the two was a small metal table. Tom having regained some of his equilibrium, dropped his gaze and shifted uncomfortably in the seat. Trying to spare his lover some dignity Peter chose to answer first.

"But of course Dickie, why else would…"

Ignoring the brunette, Dickie shouted, "You were suppose to wait for me god damn it, not sidle up to a new boy toy less than a year…"

"It's been more than a year," Tom whispered but Dickie having been shouting failed to hear him clearly.

"What?"

"I said it's been more than a year Dickie," Tom screamed at his ex, leaping up and tossing his chair to the side with one angry hand gesture. "You left don't you get it? You left me to "figure things out" aka "go of gallivanting with your whores" while I waited patiently in that damn apartment of yours, for instruction that you didn't even have the decency to give me over the phone. Instead you sent telegraphs that meant nothing to me, that left me feeling just as empty after I read then; just as alone and miserable as I had been since the day you walked out that door. I couldn't wait for you Dickie, don't you get it? It was killing me!"

Dickie looked startled by the outburst but recovered quickly, unfortunately not as quickly as Peter who glanced between the two men repeatedly before facing his lover and saying softly, "Is it true? Were you two…together?"

Tom rushed around the table to comfort his partner, "Peter I…" but he was cut short by Dickie's sudden move to grab him around the waist and spin him around, pressing Tom's back firmly against the wall.

"You're mine," the blonde growled menacingly, barely an inch from the shorter man's lips. "You belong to me Tom Ripley. You will always belong to me," he tapped his hand against the frightened man's heaving chest, "right here I already left my mark."

A hand landed heavily on the furious blonde's shoulder, and Tom could see his lovers dangerously pursed lips and narrowed eyes glaring pointedly at the back of the golden head.

"Leave us you stupid Brit. This is between Tom and I."

"I don't think so Mr. Greenleaf. You see you're right, I'm not just renovating at Tom's; I'm also attempting to build a life with him. A life you so conveniently threw away for a chance to, if I am to assume correctly, play an elaborate prank on your father and escape your responsibilities as an heir. Would I be right in my assumptions Dick?"

The blonde spun around and shoved the brunette, hard; but Peter was ready for him and with practiced ease that alarmed Tom beyond measure, pressed the struggling blonde, chest first against the wall; one arm tightly wound behind his back. A distressed waitress began to approach them, but Peter waved her away dismissively.

"E 'multa. Abbiamo solo bisogno di un momento."

She nodded and scurried back inside the shop, Tom couldn't blame her. He had half a mind to do the same. What happened to the mild mannered man he fell in love with, who is this Peter who breaks out James Bond moves, with such alarming familiarity?

"Now Dickie, are you paying attention?"

When the incapacitated youth just snarled at him, Peter pulled at the captive arm until the blonde broke out in a desperate wail. Tom watched his lover quickly silence the man.

"Ok, and what about now?"

"Yes," panted the blonde, as soon as the hand was moved far enough to let him speak.

"I'm going to make this very clear for you boy. You will leave Italy tonight. You will not speak of this encounter to anyone. If I so much as hear of allegations spewing from your mouth about my relationship with Tom, I will hunt you down. Are we clear?"

The blonde nodded through a growl, and Peter softly tapped the man on the cheek.

"Good. You did a good job of disappearing once; I suggest you make a follow up attempt. Only this time make sure you stay dead, or I will have to assist you."

Satisfied, Peter took a step back, and released Dickie's arm. The blonde had just enough nerve to shoot one final glare at Tom, before walking quickly away and disappearing down a small alley.

"P…Peter?" Tom couldn't help the stutter. He shakily observed his boyfriend straighten his coat lapels and fix his scarf.

"Yes my love."

"What…how… what happened?"

"I fixed a problem," drawled the brunette, like one might comment about the weather.

"How…"

"Its not important. I will of course tell you everything; but another time. Right now I believe I saw an antique market setting up on City Square on our way in this morning. I do believe we should head over there and browse."

Tom gapped at the nonchalant way Peter seemed to dismiss the incident. As if the entire encounter never even occurred outside of Tom's over vivid imagination.

"But…Dickie"

"Will not bother us again," supplied Peter with a somewhat exasperated sigh, "now come along." He grabbed a gentle hold of Tom's elbow and gently guided him from the café; withdrawing a couple of notes from his coat pocket he tossed them carelessly atop the table. Tom allowed himself to be lead away, still somewhat confused but warm and surprisingly reassured by his lovers firm hold. Honestly why should he push this now, when there's an antique market waiting and his lover couldn't be more eager to start building their home together? After all Peter did say he would explain himself later, what would be the point of ruining a perfect Venice morning? Tom hugged the other man closer to him, already dreading having to let go when they arrive at crowded City Square.

"Yes, I do believe we are still in need of a dark wood dinning room table," the blonde muttered. He didn't need to look, to feel Peter's smiling gaze on him all the way to the market.