I slammed the door behind me, making the windows rattle in their panes. Emmy and Dad followed me quickly. Jill bustled out of the kitchen to see what was going on.

"Clayton, don't slam the door." Dad chided calmly. Calmly?!?!?! Why was he so fucking calm!? "We got good news today-"

"Good? GOOD?! are you out of your mind? Good!? I haven't heard anything less good, aside from you're going to die!" I yelled across him. Emmy took my arm and pulled me so I wasn't facing him, forcing me to look her in the face.

"Clay, please, don't do this." She whispered.

"Emmy." I pleaded with her, begging her to be on my side. Please Emmy back me up, don't make me keep doing this alone. "There has been almost no change in the tumor. It's still growing, I'm still dying."

"But it's not in the part that makes you sleep anymore." He sniffed back tears, I was holding her hands way too tight. "Y-your sleep patterns should g-go back to normal. You won't have to be awake for days."

"If I had four more months of chemo the tumor might, MIGHT, have shrunk down enough to operate on a section in my frontal lobe. I don't have four more months, I have two. The cancer isn't dying, it's wrapping itself tighter inside my head because we are trying to kill it. Chemo is killing me faster!"

She was really crying now, sobbing as she looked at me, still holding my hands even as I crushed hers.

"Clayton that's enough." Dad said a hand on my shoulder.

"You're right, because I am done, no more chemo, no more radiation, no more anything, I'm done. I've had enough. I tried."

I meant it, I was so tired, so discouraged. I can't believe it had all been for nothing...I wasted two months. I could feel my chest tighten just thinking about it, my eyes burned. I loosened my grip on Emmy's hands, but she didn't let go. She knew exactly what I was thinking.

But dad's hand squeezed tighter. "I don't know what you think you're talking about Clay. You're not giving up."

Please dad, don't do this.

I looked back at him, his jaw was set, his eyes narrowed. "Dad?"

"There is a chance."

He really was doing this, he wasn't going to let me go. "No, there isn't." I said, forcing my voice steady. Emmy let go as I turned back to him. "I am not going to die like this. I will not die miserable."

"You're not going to die at all."

"Give it up." I growled. "Stop telling me how to die!"

"I let your mother go, I will not watch you give up too. You are my child you will do as you are told. Get your shoes or you'll be late for chemo."

"I'm not going!"

"You will go if I have to drag you every step of the way!" He shouted at me.

Right there, it was the first time I saw it, a desperation behind his eyes. "You aren't dead yet and I won't let it happen!"

"It's already happened!! I'm fucked!"

His grip was like a vise under my arm as he dragged me towards the door, stooping for just a second to scoop up my boots before he shouldered the door open. I looked back, in a panic. Emmy and Jill looked too stunned to move and Max was standing in the doorway, just watching. He locked eyes with me and looked away, turning back into the living room.

I couldn't pull away, dad was stronger then me?! I don't know when that had happened, but I was trapped, partially down the steps before Emmy and Jill grabbed his other arm.

"Roy what are you doing?"

"Stop it, let him go!" They said together.

He looked mad, not angry, but just as panicked as me. He'd lost control. For the second time in his life he was up against a disease that couldn't be fought off and he was watching another part of himself lose that fight.

For a second his grip loosened and I tore away, slipped down the stairs, caught myself, and took off running.

"Clay!"

"CLAYTON!"

They called me back, but I didn't stop. The cold air ripped at my lungs, my feet were frozen, lanced with pain every pounding step I took. I couldn't do this! I can't keep going through hell knowing it was pointless!

Everything had gone so wrong, my life was crumbling down around my ears, my happiness sapped, my dreams shot straight to hell, the people I loved turning on me. Emmy was gone, she'd never give up on me. My dad was gone, he'll never accept me for dead. Max...we aren't even civil anymore. Every time he looked at me...I don't know what happened! We were broken up, but were fine, and then he was so cold.

For God's sake! Grant me sanctuary!

I pounded the door with my fist, completely winded, shivering with cold and panic. It opened. Alistair took one look at me and pulled me over his threshold.

"Your hands are frozen." He took me to the kitchen and pulled my hands under the faucet. "Clay what happened? Are you okay?" He asked urgently, still pulling me along behind him, to the laundry room now. He pressed dry pants and thick socks into my trembling hands and cupped my face tenderly. "What do you need?"

"....dad....chemo....don't..." I couldn't catch my breath, I was still panting. A crunch of snow from the driveway didn't help. My breath caught. "Please!"

Alistair glanced over his shoulder, then to me. "Stay here." He said, firmly. So, naturally, I hurried to the kitchen to listen as my dad pounded on he door.

"Alistair open up!" And he did.

"Roy? What can I do you for?"

"Don't do that, you know why I'm here. Bring Clay out." My dad deadpanned.

I heard a thunk of flesh on wood as Alistair slapped his palm to the door frame, stopping my dad from side stepping him to get inside.

"What is this about Roy?" He asked coolly.

"You can't keep me from my son."

"He's not here." Alistair lied.

"Don't lie to me!"

"Don't raise your voice. We are just talking." Alistair said, still so calm. "What is going on Roy?"

"He ran away again, and again, you are keeping him from me." He was getting pissed, his voice was dark and dangerous. "Just because you've had more kids than you can handle doesn't mean you know better than me about raising my child."

"You're being irrational. If I were you I'd watch my tongue."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Just a friendly reminder that you are on my porch insulting me." Alistair said, less calm.

There was a silent pause, I knew dad was flustered.

"Roy, you have to let Clay do what he will. You don't want him to resent you."

"Don't tell me how to be a parent!" He yelled. He yelled at Alistair. "He's not one of your wild children, he's my son! I will not stand quietly by and let him kill himself! And if you can honestly say you would, you are no parent!"

"You can't force him! He has tried!" Alistair finally raised his voice, just barely, but it was enough.

"Just watch me!"

"Get off my porch!" There was a scuffle and a creaking of boards. "He's not here, so you and your infinite parenting wisdom better go find him!"

"ALISTAIR!"

"Keep me posted if you do find him." The door snapped shut and I heard my dad scream in fury and frustration.

A minute of silence passed, dad's truck pulled away, leaving a quite such that I could hear Alistair's calm breathing and his palm as it slid quietly down the door. "I know you're there, come here."

When I turned the corner into the entrance hall Alistair was waiting for me, standing, brawny and blank faced, in front of the closed, and newly locked, door. I couldn't look at him, his calculating eyes were too much, so I looked at his right side chest instead, hugging the clean clothes like a child would a favorite stuffed toy.

"I lied for you. It's time for you to tell me the truth. What happened, Clayton." He wasn't angry, he was serious, but there was no anger, only concern.

And suddenly it was hard to speak as well. I swallowed and took a deep breath, the panic still gripping my heart. "I went to the hospital today. My brain scan showed almost no change, and even the possibility of new growth. My cells panicked when the chemo started killing them and they began dividing even faster to make up for the loss. The cancer has been apart of my brain so long it can no longer tell the difference between brain tissue and the cancer tumors." I stopped, my throat was closing and moisture pricked at my eyes, burning them. I really couldn't look at him now and was staring at my cold wet toes.

"Chemo isn't working, and the experimental drugs aren't quick enough to have any effect, if they have an effect, before... before..." I bit my lip trying to swallow back the sob, willing the tears to not fall. I almost had it too, and then Alistair closed me into his embrace, a warm palm on the back if my head, the other in the small of my back.

A sob slipped out, then another, and the next thing I knew I was balling into Alistair's collar, unable to control the tears that soaked his shirt.

His cool lips pressed to my forehead, his scratchy whiskers ruffed my skin as I tried to pull myself together.

"I d-don't want to die! I can't take anymore treatment, I c-can't. It's killed the lining of my stomach, it hurts to eat, I'm throwing up blood. I can't stand being able to sleep! I used to wish I could sleep, but I'm so scared I won't wake up! It's all been for nothing! I'm still going to die! I don't want to!! I don't know what to d-do!" I dissolved back into sobs as my legs went weak. The only thing keeping me off the floor was Alistair holding me tight pressed to him.

An eternity later he calmed me, soothing me quietly, his whiskery kiss pressed to my head as he shushed me like a hysterical toddler, patiently waiting for me to hiccup myself into sniffling silence and get my legs back under me.

I was painfully aware of the tears and snot I left to stain his shirt, especially as he put me back a bit, wiped my eyes with his thumbs and then my nose with his shirt hem. He was such a dad.

"You aren't supposed to know what to do. People should never be given the option to chosen their own death. Especially when you're so young."

Fucker was going to make me cry again.

"Whatever you do choose to do should be your choice, and your choice alone. Nobody can force anything on you. I'll make sure of that." His thumb brushed the new tears away as they tried to slip pass my cheek bones. "You're safe here. We will never turn you away for anything. Just tell me what you need."

He squeezed me into another hard hug. "Your father loves you Clay. Please know that he is just as scared as you. He doesn't want to hurt you, he just doesn't want to lose you more."

Fucker! He was going to make me cry again! Stupid cancer!! Fucking up my brain! Making me emotional.

"Bowie is asleep upstairs, but everybody else it out for the day, change your clothes and find a bed to lay down in for a few hours. You're exhausted."

I nodded numbly against his chest, mumbling a shy "I love you," as I did.

"I love you too." He said, as if he was surprised I didn't already know. "You're one of mine."

He sent me away with a kiss to my head. I heard him sink into a chair with a heavy sigh and felt bad. I was ripping him and my dad apart.

I was just going to slink down into Bradly's room in the basement and sulk for a few hours, but the rest of me had a different plan. I took the stairs up and padded down to Bowie's door.

He was snoozing soundly, hands tucked under his head, hugging his pillow, very nearly naked.

"Bowie?" You ever wonder why, even when we are trying to wake the person up, we whisper. "Bowie." I said a bit louder. Must have caught him in a REM cycle. I shook him slightly. "Bowie?"

He blinked sleepily at me, a bit disoriented. "Clay? Hey, what's up. Are you okay." He was struggling to keep his eyes open. I wonder how late he was up last night?

I didn't say anything and he quickly shuffled around to make room for me on the bed.

Judging by the hefty pouch in his briefs I definitely caught him in a REM cycle.

He let me snuggled right up against him, stealing the spot his pillow had previously occupied. He dropped his arm around me, pulling me closer and curling around me. It was like cuddling with Bradly, long limbs, warm body, and cool fingers.

He absently kissed the nape of my neck and rubbed the spot with his nose. "Everything will pan out in the end." He said softly. And God did I hope he was right.

When he fell back asleep I rolled over to face him. I touched his cheek, tracing his jaw and chin. I couldn't help it. I wanted to memorize his face before it was too late. He slept deeply, not even stirring as my hands roved lower to his neck and collar, feeling along his chest and sides.
I ruffled the little white curls on his chest, following them with my palms as they tapered to a point just below his pectorals then picked back up at his navel and down below the band of his briefs.

I am such a creep. I desperately wanted to kiss him, touch him places all over, wanted him to do the same to me. I wanted to be wanted, needed. I felt so lonely. He was ten inches away and I was lonely.

I wanted to be remembered!

I'm going to die anyway, I'll never be remembered if I don't do anything. I won't die craving companionship, I'm going to die with a fucking harem!

I dragged my finger lightly under his waist band, watching his muscles contract slightly from the tickle. Bowie nearly made a sound as I cupped the heated, half mast prize wrapped up real pretty in his panties.

It didn't stay that way for long as I rubbed it, feeling it strain under the fabric, watching his eyebrows knit together with a soft groan. Hooking a finger in a leg hole in pulled until his cock slipped out and dragged the covers up just enough to look.

....oh my god I wanted him in my mouth so bad... all flushed and pink, the tip red and leaking, uncut, smaller than me, but nice and thick and heavy in my hand. He panted openly, squirming slightly as I rubbed with my thumb in his slit, again and again over the hard yet spongy tip.

Jesus Christ what is wrong with me! I can't even not molest someone when they are sleeping!

I tucked him away and, with a ridiculous amount of effort, I took my hands away and watched him lost in his wet dream.

I wondered who he was dreaming of, who made him squirm and moan so pretty. Some beautiful Japanese women no doubt. The girl he almost married, what was her name again?

"Mmmm...oooo gods..." He mumbled, choking on a gasp.

His eyes snapped open as he orgasmed, I shut my own, faking sleep.

He panted and groaned. The bed creaked when he moved and a growled "Son of a bitch," accompanied the snap of his waistband as he let it back into place. His weight gone I peaked my eyes open, watching him peel off his briefs and toss them distastefully into the hamper. God his ass was perfect too.

"Clay?" He whispered, getting back into bed with me, though it must be well past noon. I didn't say anything, I was sleeping. He sighed. "I'm glad you'll never know what a creep I am, but I'm almost disappointed you'll never do to me what you do in my dreams."

....did he just....

"I feel so bad, I have a totally selfish reason for wanting you to lay in my lap, touching your face, your legs, your sides. I, am, sick." He breathed so quietly I almost couldn't hear. "Oh gods I don't know when he grew up, but I'm completely lusting after my baby brothers best friend."

Holy shit I wish I wasn't pretending to sleep!

"Clay, Clay? Clay?"

Somebody was shaking me awake and I started, sitting up and nearly banging nose to nose with Michael.

"Morning sunshine, it's almost eight. Dad told me to come and see if you wanted supper."

It....it was a dream? Bowie wasn't there? I was in his room however. The hamper didn't have pretty blue briefs on top though?

"Uh...sure. thank you." I said, my heart sinking horribly.

Michael left and as I followed I dug in the hamper. "Holy shit..." blue, damp and sticky, hidden under an ACDC shirt.

*** I've completely fallen in love with Bowie by the by and I don't know what to do! He was just going to be the conflict character! Damnit! Anyways, as always I hope you like. Vote, comment, light molest...? Meh***