Clay P.O.V

Bradly and I laid there in a haze. For the people who don't think pot is a real drug, god damn they aren't doing the right shit! I felt...calm. For the first time since I blew out Franky's jaw, I wasn't worried about anything. My head didn't hurt, I felt comfortably sleepy, a warm fuzz in my mind, and it was so hard to be concerned about, anything, not even dying. Fuck cancer, I've got better shit to do than worry about cancer.

Michael came back, moody, and shoved me back into Bradly to shamelessly join in on our spooning. So, I wrapped my arm around him feeling...short. I wonder if this is how Max feels? After a moment of sleepy silence Michael giggled.

"What?" Bradly mumbled, voice muffled against my shoulders.

"It's a sandwich." Michael said, laughing harder.

...?

With a serious effort, Bradly un-wedged himself from between me and the couch just enough to look at his brother. "Are you taking the micky?"

"Clayton is a hot slab of beef between two thin pieces of white bread!"

I started laughing and once started I couldn't stop. It took Bradly longer to get it. Hehehe, he had zero tolerance for THC. When he did get it, his expression just made me laugh harder. Literally, like a light bulb, his face actually brightened and you could see the comprehension dawn.

"Oh! I get it!" He said starting to laught too. "Because he's a sexy muscle stud and we are pasty as hell!"

Yup, zero, tolerance.

He was laughing, drapped over my side. He'd tried to escape, but gave up and just slumped over us at an awkward angle.

"No feeling each other up without inviting me damnit." Michael grumbled in mock irritation. "Wolf pup, get a grip!" He said, trying to be serious as he shoved Bradly back into the couch with his elbow. He got up on his knees to frown at his baby brother, clearly rethinking his decision to pass out the hash.

"What did my dad say?" I asked as Bradly caught his breath and laid on my chest. Michael dropped back to the opposite end of the couch, letting his long legs tangle with mine in the middle. "Well it could have gone better." He said after a moment. "I don't think I got the exact message across I wanted to. So, you are standing by your decision? No treatment."

I shrugged. In the moment I couldn't care less, but it was easier to talk about it. "I don't want to be forced to do anything. I like having the option to say no, but then they weren't going to let me."

"That's bullshit Clay. You deserve better. It's your life, why should they make your choices for you?" Michael said nodding seriously. He suddenly gave a yelp as something white smashed against the side of his head and cold spray splattered across the three of us. ... It was snow? Michael gingerly touched his face and we both turned to look over the back of the couch at the staircase.

Max was standing there. Oh, god damn he was so cute when he was pissed off. He was scowling at Michael and me and back again, his olive hands balled into fists inside the sleeves of my coat. Aaaaaaaah, my god he looked good in my clothes. Mmm, yes please.

"What the fuck?" He asked, moving down into the hazy room.

"I think you boyfriend is mad." Bradly said seriously.

"No shit." Max mumbled crossing to the couch. He crossed his arms. His tanned cheeks were tinged pink, his eyes flashing and his jaw set.

"Come here Max, I'm sorry." I said, and I meant it. I wanted to hold him, kiss his lips, touch his skin, run my fingers through his hair.

"Clay. You need us?" Michael asked, a little protectively, before Max could speak again. I shook my head and he nodded, hopping off the couch and pulling Bradly into a fireman's carry. "Let's go Wolf pup." He grunted. "This is civil conversation, not for the likes of delinquents like us. I'm going to teach you the joys of playing guitar while stoned." Once he carried Bradly away and out of sight, Max begrudgingly came closer to me.

I pulled him onto me and he sat, straddling me with a knee on either side of my hips. He didn't look as pissed, just upset. "Why didn't you tell me they gave you until January to live." He said, his voice just slightly above a whisper.

I didn't want to talk about this. Couldn't we just have sex and forget this whole thing? "I didn't want you to worry."

He scoffed. Ouch, I was telling the truth. "What an excuse." He said sarcastically. He sat back and looked away, twisting his hands in his lap. "You are being selfish." He said firmly. "This is your life, but there are other people in your life that your decision effects. Roy, Emmy, me; and you can't just withhold information or decided on your own about a situation as serious as whether you live or die. We don't want to force you to do anything. I don't want to force you to do anything. I think Emmy is far gone and willing to drag you, in pieces if she has to, to get you to treatment. Clayton you could beat this, but you never will if you don't even try." Max said looking back at me. "I'm sorry I went behind your back, but I'll never apologize for doing something I think is right. I'm glad I told Emmy, I'm glad Roy found out, and maybe I should have gone about it in a different way, but," He threw his hands up. "There is my two pence."

I reached up to cup his cheek and I pulled him down to kiss me. He kept it short, but that wasn't good enough. I wanted more. I just pulled him back. I wanted him to kiss me like he always did, hard and passionate, dominating my mouth before he let me fuck him over the arm of Bradly's couch. Why did things have to change!?

"Clay," He said, irritated and muffled against my lips. He pushed my face away and pulled back out of my grasp. "Are you taking me seriously, come on! I want you to heard me god damnit!"

"I hear you, Max, I promise. I'm...I don't know, I feel better. I'm not worried about it anymore." I said rubbing his thighs.

"That's because your so high the only thing you need to worry about is airplanes." He said with a frown.

That was pretty funny. I chuckled and toyed with his button on his jeans. God, I wanted him so bad. From what Michael has told me, pot effects people in four basic ways. Happy, hungry, horny, sleepy. Apparently I was horny, not that I wasn't already. I wondered if Max would fuck me? Auuuaaahh! What a hot thought. Max laying me flat on my stomach, in between my legs, his palms in the small of my back as he railed me into the-

"Clay!" Max clicked his fingers in my face and I snapped out of it. He was frustrated. Shit. I looked at him, in his pretty amber eyes. We'd just kissed, but I missed the taste of his lips, like sweet black coffee. I flipped us, very nearly sending the both of us tumbling off Bradly's couch. I locked his lips with mine, nibbling and suckling, willing him to kiss me back.

"Max, I will do anything you say if you let me have sex with you right now." There they were, cards on the table. ...Not the best hand I've ever played.

He was looking at with something akin to incredulity, flushing dark pink. "N-no! Clay, no! We are in Bradly's house on his couch!"

"That's never stopped Bradly. Come on." I begged kissing his throat. I was hard and him wriggling under me wasn't helping that.

"Stop trying to trade sex for treatment! I'll have sex with you stupid, but not here, not now, and not until you come down."

Ahhhgh! He was killing me! They were going to be blue!

"Clayton, I want you to be serious." He said, speaking past my lips as I kissed him again. He was losing the will to fight, he kissed back, sucking my bottom lip, swirling his tongue against mine, it was just what I wanted.

"I love you." I said breathlessly as we parted for air.

He looked at me, his lips pressed together, running his hands through his hair. He looked like he was fighting some kind of inner war. "Oh fuck you." He breathed blithely and pulled me back to him.

YES!

Our lips molded together, one hand on my neck the other on my chest. I held him by the hips, pulling him up to me. I couldn't help but run my hand up under his clothes to find his skin. He was so different from me, Hunter, even Bradly. I was addicted to the feeling of his lean body and the shy way he moved it into my touch. He wasnt wide, his skin wasn't pale peach, let's face it, Max was damn near exotic.

I kissed him harder, dragging his shirt up and moving to kiss his dusky nipples and skim my nose along his torso to the happy trail of dark hair at his bellybutton.

"Alright, done. I'm drawing the line." He said, his voice hitching when I grabbed his crotch. "I'm not walking through Bradly's house with a pitched tent." He was halfway there, go big or go home right, but I let go.

It was pretty dramatic. Like in the old black and white films where the boys go off to war and their lovers say good bye like they will never see them again. This was the beginning of the end for me. I was going to start chemo, because I was whipped and my life as I know it was going to end.

I sobered up pretty quick with that thought. Max kissed me on the cheek and took my hand, giving me time to adjust myself. I might as well not look like a total prick and at least try and tuck my stuff away. Upstairs Michael was leaned over the counter watching Bradly sitting at the table with an amused expression. Bradly was lost in the strawberry fields, playing the Beatles' on his guitar. He looked so entertained, he obviously didn't even notice when me and Max walked in the room.

"It's a thing of beauty." Michael said catching our eye and nodding to Bradly. "Like when a boy first discovers porn; he'll be entertained for hours.

"You're sick." Max said as I laughed. Michael just grinned at him.

"Play nice." His dad said as he stomped into the room, dropping a heavy hand onto Michael's shoulder.

"Yes papa." Michael chimed innocently, an anything-but-innocent smile curving his lips.

"Clayton." I looked at him, the big brawny viking he was. He was pretty intimidating. He was looking intently at me and I couldn't help but feel like I was going to get in trouble for a moment. I actually felt myself shrink back a bit, like going back to being eight years old. God he looked exactly the same too. "Are you leaving?"

"Uh, yeah." I half muttered.

"Do you want to?" It was such a simple question and I looked away. I was so touched.

"I think so."

"Alright. If you ever need anything Clay," He wrapped me in a brief hug, his whiskers brushing my forehead. "We're here. You don't have to do anything." He said the last part so only I could hear before he pulled away.

"What do you think I should do. If it was Bradly, Michael, Bowie, Grant, Jake, Theo, or Kelly, what would you say to them?" I blurted suddenly. I saw Max look at me. Michael and even Bradly looked up. Alistair looked down, clearly thinking. I loved that he would actually think about something instead of spewing the generic response.

"I would be heart broken if it was one if my kids. I would want them to get better, but I know my sons, they are all like their mother and I could never force them to do anything if they didn't want to. It would be up to them, and I would let them make the decision for themselves and give them my thoughts only if they asked. If I was one of my grandchildren and my sons made the decision to not get them treated....I might kill them." He deadpanned.

Michael and Bradly exchanged worried looks. "Kell and Theo better be careful." Michael nodded wisely. "Pack leader has spoke."

"If my grandchildren were old enough to make the decision for themselves and decided not to; I would drag them kicking and screaming the whole way and force them until my dying breath." Alistair when on, in the same dead serious way.

I wasn't expecting the last part. At least he was honest. Max cast me a worried look and I almost smiled....almost.

These guys sure knew how to kill the mood.

***....wow, for the first time, I don't have much to say. Enjoy, sorry it took me so long, don't do drugs, bla bla, bla. Vote, comment, VIKINGS! \^~^/***