Chapter Eight (Seth)

Anthony was looking so much better the next morning.

The color had returned to his face and he was actually sitting up now, eating his breakfast slowly. He left his juice untouched, though. His cheekbone was slightly bruised from the accident and a gauze pad was stuck over the place where the doctors had stitched his gash shut.

"Don't like your juice?" I spoke up at last, making him look up, startled for a second like he hadn't really expected me to stick around. He relaxed for a second, frowning at it before looking away.

"It's too sour." He answered, blowing on the spoonful of oatmeal before eating it. I smiled and pushed off the doorway to the room, walking in and bringing a chair over to sit beside him. I watched him eat, pausing every so often to glance up at the television across the room that was showing how bad the roads had really been last night. He grimaced.

"I must've been really drunk to think I could drive in that." He muttered. I raised an eyebrow, sitting back in my seat with my jacket draped over my lap, hands folded on top of it.

"Oh yeah. It was kinda bad."

"And I can't remember a thing," Anthony admitted, making me frown in concern before he caught the look on my face and shook his head, "No, it was just because I was drunk. My head's fine, the doctor said. Well, physically anyway." He made a sour face at that before he finished eating, pushing the tray table away so it rolled to the foot of his bed. He looked at me, frowning.

"Have the cops come in yet?" He asked. I stared at him for the longest time before slowly shaking my head, watching him sigh as he settled back down on the bed. He watched the television for a while longer before turning his head to look at me.

"They'll probably want to talk to me when I leave," He hesitated, then frowned, looking away, "No, that's a lie. They'll probably arrest me. I was driving drunk, again. They'll probably take my license away too. Get my AA meetings bumped up." I nibbled my lower lip, studying him as he stared at the television, but I don't think he was actually watching anything. I think he was just trying to accept his fate, but it wasn't going to be like he had hoped.

I averted my eyes as I remembered having walked out of Anthony's room last night to take a break, only to run into Vic and Ace again. They were crowding a kid a few years younger than me who was banged up pretty badly, but well enough to argue with Ace over being irresponsible. Vic had seen me before I tried to escape, but he pulled me aside and put something in my hand.

"What's this?" I had asked, stunned when I saw a check in my hand.

"Bail," Vic told me quietly, making me look at him in disbelief, "It should be enough. I talked to the doctor about it and he said he won't recommend AA, but he's recommending therapy. It was the best I could get  and if money's any trouble, let me know." I looked up at him, surprised.

"I thought you said you had a falling out with Anthony."

"I did," Vic admitted, looking away before looking back at me with a frown, "But he's not the bad guy here. There is no bad guys in life. There's only people who want and need help, but don't know how to ask for it, or they're too scared too. Anthony's just another misunderstood guy and he deserves to be happy."

"You're giving me a lot of money." I admitted, grimacing at the amount of zeroes on the check. Vic shrugged.

"Money doesn't mean too much when you've found something a lot more important." I didn't miss the way he glanced out the corner of his eye at Ace, who was pinching his son's cheek hard enough to make him whine and complain. I smiled and looked back at Vic.

"Thanks, Vic. You have no idea how much this means." I said quietly. Vic smiled.

"I want to help in anyway I can. Just don't tell Anthony I paid the bill. I don't think he'll appreciate it." He added with a frown. I nodded and had moved on, letting Vic get back to his boyfriend and his boyfriend's son.

Now, sitting in Anthony's room, I wanted so badly to tell him that Vic paid his bail and there would be no jail, so long as he promised to see a therapist, but I don't think now was a good time to mention it. I'd wait until we got home, I decided with a sigh, then reached out and took Anthony's hand in mine. He looked at me, confused.

"We'll be fine. The doctor said he's just going to come in and check up on you, then give you the word. We'll head to my place--"

"Wait, your place?" He asked, frowning. I nodded.

"The doctor doesn't want you to be alone, he already told me."

"Oh, but yeah, I don't want to--"

"Hey," I interrupted firmly, locking eyes with Anthony, "I promised I wasn't going anywhere. I'm not." I watched Anthony's shine in the lights before he blinked repeatedly, looking away and clearing his throat. I smiled, stroking his knuckles with my thumb before I stood up.

"I will, however, get you something different to drink. Seems like you don't like citrus stuff." I pointed out, setting my jacket down. Anthony grimaced at the mere mention and nibbled his lower lip before looking at me.

"I dunno, I guess... Maybe tea? I don't know." He murmured. I smiled and nodded before departing from the room to tell the nurse before I came back to see that the doctor had returned and was giving Anthony his check up, but I stayed near the door, letting them pull the curtain so they had privacy. It was quiet, except for Anthony's occasional hiss of pain before the curtains were pulled back and Anthony was sitting up, the doctor carefully removing the IV before placing a gauze pad over it.

"You're doing well," The doctor commented, picking up his clipboard and making a few marks, "You responded well to the treatment as well. However, due to the alcohol poisoning, we're going to recommend to the court that you see a therapist. We'll--"

"A therapist?" Anthony demanded heatedly. I grimaced. Or the doctor could tell him now. That sounded good... Not. The doctor frowned, looking at Anthony sternly.

"Mr. Stewart, the amount of alcohol in your system should have killed you. You have severe alcohol posioning. We were told that your AA meetings weren't helping and are authorized to recommend that you see a therapist. We'll give you options on payment and even let you choose from our finest here at the hospital. You'll be considered an out patient--"

"Out patient," Anthony repeated angrily, looking offended, "Are you telling me you want to submit to a psychiatric hospital or something? I'm not crazy. I just happen to like alcohol." To his credit, the doctor remained calm as he looked over his glasses at Anthony.

"You almost died last night because of you just happening to like alcohol, Mr. Stewart. Surely you knew your limits." He said. Anthony glared at him before getting off the bed, snatching his clothes that were folded up nearby.

"You think because I drank too much that I was trying to kill myself. You can't get rid of me that easily," He snapped in irritation, "And I'm not going to see any kind of therapist. I'm not fucking crazy." The doctor frowned, folding his hands behind his back with the clipboard.

"Mr. Stewart, this is actually a choice that you are being given. You have the choice of paying for your bail and seeing a therapist compared to sitting in jail for three months. If I were you, I'd think it over."

"If I were you, I'd think of a new profession." Anthony returned harshly, then turned his back to the doctor, who sighed and shook his head before heading for the door when he saw me. He frowned, giving me a look that told me he tried his best and the rest was up to me. I nodded and thanked him, shutting the door before turning to Anthony, who unabashedly dropped his hospital gown, giving me a very nice view of muscular back, narrow hips, and a firm but that begged to be squeezed. I cleared my throat.

Not the time for that, Seth. Focus. Focus.

"Anthony, I really don't think you should've snapped at him," I admitted, making Anthony snort rudely, "He's just the messenger... And, Anthony, would you really rather go to jail than talk to a therapist?" Anthony whirled on me, glaring as he jerked his shirt over his head.

"They want me to see a therapist because I'm crazy. I rather be with bunch of pricks for three months than have people talk to me like I'm some kind of psycho. I'm not crazy and I didn't try to kill myself. I just... I just didn't care." He growled, looking away as he straightened his shirt, then stopped jerking at it to look down at the floor in frustration. I frowned.

"You'd rather be with a bunch of pricks than stay with me?" I asked at last. Anthony blinked and looked up to stare at me in surprise.

"I never--"

"Yes, you did," I said quietly, "I was going to let you stay with me. No, I wanted you to stay with me. I want to be there for you, but you're not letting me." Anthony looked pained now and dropped his gaze. I sighed and walked up to him, running my hands down his arms before taking his hands into mine, brushing my thumbs over his knuckles before I lifted my hands to cup his face. He looked reluctant to bring his eyes up, like he was ashamed.

"You're not talking to a therapist because you're crazy," I told him softly, stroking his cheeks with my thumbs, "You're talking to a therapist so you can be free. Would you really choose jail over a little therapy? Therapy, by the way, that will be rewarded with plenty of sex from me afterwards." Anthony blushed hard, eyeing me closely.

"You're really blunt." He accused, making me smirk.

"Yeah, well, I figured you'd need some motivation."

"And what makes you think I even wanna have sex with you?"

"Anthony. Trust me. I've known you wanted to have sex with me the moment I wanted in your door that first day I came to your place and I bent over to take my shoes off and you were oogling me like a school girl." I drawled, watching Anthony's cheek darken with color. I smiled, then kissed him firmly on the forehead, then on the nose before ruffling his hair, watching him scowl.

"And I meant what I said last night," I reminded him, making him blink and look up, "I love you, Anthony. I love you enough to help you, to get you help, to be your help. You don't have to watch people walk away from you anymore, I told you. If you ever want help, just take my hand and I'll know." Anthony stared at me for the longest time. I could see him thinking hard, his lips pursed before he parted them as if he were going to speak, then seemed to change his mind. He did that thing he did when he was nervous, almost biting his lip before he thought better of it.

And then he reached out and took my hand, squeezing it tightly in his. I smiled.

"Okay." I answered. Anthony didn't meet my eyes, just dropped them to the floor before he squeezed his eyes shut and hugged me tightly. I wrapped my arms around him, cradling him against my chest, savoring the feel of him against me, his hot breath seeping through my shirt to my skin. I held him for a while, making promise after promise.

I'd be there for him no matter what.

Through the therapy, through any medications, anything.

I knew there would be days when he would feel miserable, but it didn't matter because I could handle it. Why? Easy.

Because I loved him.

I let him finish getting dressed before we left and headed back to the apartment. I made sure to keep Vic's check tucked into my wallet for when the cops decided to call and ask us to haul Anthony in. But I already knew what we were going to tell the court. Anthony would pay his bail and go into therapy for his alcoholism. He didn't complain anymore about it, just thanked the Lord he didn't need to go to AA anymore. Seemed the place was more depressing than a drunken stupor.

We got to the apartment, caught off guard when we opened the door to see that Taylor had strung up a very artsy looking banner that read GET WELL SOON, ANTHONY across the front. I knew it was him sucking up, but I said nothing and let Anthony bask in the attention that we showered him with.

"So, I was thinking," Taylor mused as we sat on the sofa to relax, "Anthony, you should sleep in my room tonight. It's so much warmer than Seth's room. And my bed is better. You should know, you slept in it before." Anthony gave him a droll stare as he dug his hand into a bag of chips.

"Taylor, you need a boyfriend."

"I'm working on it."

"Not me."

"Why not? I'm charming."

"Charming in the deadly sense of the word," Anthony explained slowly, making Taylor wrinkle his nose in distaste and a grin sweep across my face as Anthony teased him, "I'm wondering if you're like some kind of incubus. What're you trying to do? Wait until I sleep to molest me and suck out my soul?"

"Keep talking like that and I'll try it." Taylor returned snarkily. Anthony tsked and shoved the chip bag at Taylor's face, making me laugh. A warm blanket of pleasure spread over me, though, as Anthony leaned against me, his head resting on my shoulder as he watched the television, ignoring Taylor's little temper tantrum over being rejected, once again. Only to have Taylor's cell phone ring as he got up, snatching it out of his pocket and holding it to his ear.

"Hello? What... What the hell?! Why are you calling me," Taylor demanded, heading for the hallway, "I told you to keep your Catholic ass out of my business... Catholic, Baptist, what's the difference! You both worship a guy on the cross... No, that's so not true. Oh, you're so unbelievably rude, Eric. And what'd you know anyway, pretty boy?" Anthony and I watched him disappear, yelling things that would probably be cruel and hurtful to anyone else, except Eric. I had a feeling the kid was a lot more masochistic than we thought. Anthony seemed to agree as he raised an eyebrow, looking away.

"Think Taylor's got a crush."

"Yup, he's just in denial."

"Your brother has a really way of showing people he loves them."

"Oh trust me, it's even scarier when he really likes you."

"I believe that." Anthony agreed with a snort, making me smirk as I slipped my arm around him to pull him between my legs as I stretched my legs out across the sofa. I pulled Anthony back against my chest, listening to his heavy sigh of relief as he leaned against me.

"You're comfortable." I purred in his ear, resting my hands on his thighs. I could see the goose bumps on Anthony's arms now as he cleared his throat and reached behind him, shoving a chip in my mouth. I chuckled, devouring the chip before licking my lips, dipping my tongue to lick the shell of Anthony's ear. He shivered, arching his neck to the side.

"Not with Taylor here." He breathed. I forced myself to pout, cocking my head as I buried my face against his neck, inhaling his deep, masculine scent, clasping my hands in his lap.

"Taylor who?" I asked, kissing at his throat. Anthony groaned and tried to arch his neck to close it off to me, but I switched to the other side. He kept trying to block me before he gave up, letting me clasp my lips on his throat, sucking gently, nibbling to his shoulder. I pushed the collar of his shirt aside, exposing his well muscled shoulder to my gaze before I bit down on it gently. He hissed past clenched teeth, but seemed to enjoy it, judging from the bulge in his jeans that I took the liberty of massaging for him, making him squirm in my lap.

"I haven't had therapy yet." He admitted breathily.

"This is your reward for agreeing to it." I replied in his ear, then took his earlobe into my mouth, suckling on it and making him moan. I unbuttoned his jeans, reaching inside into his boxers, taking him into my hands. I ran my finger along the under side toward his balls, making him arch his back against me so I could have better access to his groin.

"I could handle a couple years of it for this." Anthony moaned, tilting his head back against my shoulder. He turned his head up to face me and I leaned down, capturing his lips, my tongue diving into his mouth and assaulting his tongue. He groaned, reaching up to pull me down closer, our teeth clicking at how hungrily we were kissing. My whole body felt like it was on fire with passion and heat.

I needed more, I realized desperately. I wanted to feel his skin against mine, clenching around me.

I pushed his jeans off, letting him kick them aside as I undid my own. As Anthony pulled his shirt off, I reached under the sofa cushion, feeling around for something before I found it, taking out a small tube of lube. Anthony scowled.

"You better have just put that there."

"Trust me, I did. I figured we'd be doing it here again." I replied, smirking as he rolled his eyes and leaned forward on his hands and knees on the sofa. I popped the top open, wetting my fingers and squeezing some down Anthony's crack. He hissed at how cold it was before I dropped the tube to the floor. I pushed my fingers inside him, watching his body tense and his muscles clamp around me. I shivered, leaning down to kiss one of his firm butt cheeks as I plunged my fingers inside him.

"Nngh," Anthony groaned, ducking his head low, clenching his fists against the leather, "This is going to take forever to get used to." I laughed quietly, draping myself over his back, my fingers scissoring inside him and making him gasp. I clasped his cock with my other hand, gently pumping it up and down as I breathed hotly in his ear.

"We have forever." I replied. Anthony bit his lip this time, fighting a moan that slipped out anyway and gave me chills at how horribly sexual it was. I teased him, probed him, and jerked at him until he was near his peak, only to stop abruptly. I ignored his curse directed at me before I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him back into my lap, his back against my chest. I shifted us until he took in the full length of me, arching his back and reaching behind him to grab at me.

"Jesus," He gasped, squeezing his eyes shut, "Not so fast. I think you're forgetting that this is the first time I'm the fucked."

"Are you calling me a fucker?"

"Oh yes." Anthony moaned at that, tilting his head back against my shoulder, grabbing at my arms that went around him tightly. He bounced in my lap, panting heavily as my hand worked at his cock, his whole body trembling against mine. I prayed hard that Taylor would stay out of the living room, at least long enough for us to be sated.

I had no idea how much longer I could sit here and pretend that every waking moment I was with Anthony, I wasn't horny.

"I love you, Anthony," I murmured against his ear, nipping at the shell and tonguing his earlobe, "I really do. You're never going to be alone, I promise. Even when you sleep, I'll be next to you." Anthony moaned at that, squeezing his eyes shut like he was trying to fight his orgasm, but it didn't do anything, but fire it up. He shuddered in my arms, plunging himself down harder, squeezing me and making me growl low in my throat as I held him against me.

"Good." He breathed desperately between gasps for breath. I laughed quietly, burying myself inside him until I was milked for all I was worth.

"Told you Taylor wouldn't walk in." I mumbled, slumping back against the sofa as Anthony crawled away from me on all fours, trying to reach over his jeans over the other end of the sofa. The position gave me a very obvious view that oozed fluids down his thighs.

"Anthony, you really shouldn't do that in front of me." I muttered. Anthony glanced over his shoulder at me in confusion before he hissed and sat down quickly, his body tense.

"Don't watch me."

"Yeah, no, you're gonna have to gouge my eyes out if you want that to happen."

"I'm considering it."

"So am I." Anthony and I both jumped to see Taylor leaning against the opening of the hallway, holding his cell phone out at us with a video cam of a very red-faced college boy named Eric. Of course, Eric gave a girly squeak at being caught and hung up instantly. I glared at Taylor, who burst out laughing.

"I couldn't resist! Did you see the look on his face?" He laughed, leaning against the wall as he tried to call Eric back. Anthony glared at him, having pulled up his jeans frantically when Taylor revealed who was on the phone. He very boldly went to Taylor, smacking him with his shirt.

"Quit being a pest and go to your room! And call Eric back and apologize! And if you ever walk in on us again, I swear, you won't have to dress like a girl anymore-- You'll actually be a girl!" He sneered, making Taylor pout before stifling giggles as he made his way to his room. Anthony sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. I smirked and got up, ignoring my clothes as I came up behind Anthony, wrapping my arms around his waist, startling him before he relaxed.

"I actually think Eric was going to learn what sex was all about between two guys sooner or later, especially with Taylor as a friend." I admitted, watching Anthony shake out his shirt, a very teacher-like look on his face.

"Tsk, that's no way to teach an innocent kid about sex, especially gay sex. Jesus, the kid's probably scarred for eternity. Scared straight."

"Eh, I dunno. I swore I saw a little tent in his pants... A very little tent."

"Haha," Anthony snorted, making me grin as he pulled away to tug his shirt on, "Funny. The kid's probably traumatized, but that's Taylor's problem. We have a problem of our own."

"Like what?" I asked flatly, watching him go into the kitchen before I followed him, pulling on my pants as I went along, trying not to trip and hit anything. Anthony opened the fridge, reaching for something before he pulled up short. He squirmed a little, like he didn't know what to do before he took out a bottle of water. I smiled in relief as he unscrewed the top, still trying to maintain a stern expression.

"We solved my therapist problem. How the hell am I going to pay for my bail?" He asked in annoyance, taking a gulp of water and looking at it as if it were the scum of the earth. I smiled uneasily, approaching him before leaning against the table in front of him.

"Don't worry about the bail either." I told him. Anthony looked at me suspiciously now.

"Huh. You know, you seem to have everything thought out already. Something you're not telling me?" He asked. I wanted to lie, just so he wouldn't be upset and because Vic had told me not to tell him where the money came from, but I wasn't going to lie to Anthony. I wasn't going to give him a reason not to trust me.

"I talked to your doctor before. I told him AA wasn't helping and he said he was going to recommend a therapist instead. I had to beg him. And... Someone's already paid your bail, so we don't need to worry." I pushed off the table after saying that, heading for the fridge, only to feel Anthony's fingers in my back pocket. I whipped around as he took out my wallet, staring at the check. I winced, trying to snatch it back, but he stepped away from me, glaring at me as he pointed at the check.

"Vic?! You got the money from Vic?!"

"I didn't... Well, he offered."

"I don't want his money! Damn it, Seth--"

"Hey," I protested angrily, making him frown at me, "Don't get mad at me. He told me you guys had a bad falling out and he wanted to make up for it." Anthony choked at that.

"He wanted to make up for it?! I'm the one who hurt him!"

"What're you talking about?" I demanded. Anthony squirmed under my gaze for a moment before he threw his hands up in the air, then threw the wallet at my chest, making me wince.

"I jumped him, all right? Freakin' knocked the guy down my stairs and punched him. I was... I was going to do something stupid. I was nervous before he came over and drank myself drunk without realizing it and hurt him. So if anyone needs to make up for it, it's me and I'm not taking his money." He said with finality. I stayed quiet as Anthony looked around, looking ashamed. I frowned.

"Yeah... Well, he forgives you."

"Oh, bullshit," Anthony spat bitterly, stepping away from me like he didn't want to be around me, "You didn't see the way he looked at me when he left. And then when I went back to try and apologize, Ace was there and I'm surprsied the guy didn't rip my head off the way he was looking at me... like..." His voice trailed and he looked away. I shook my head and went up to him, taking his hands in mine tightly so he couldn't pull away.

"He forgives you, Anthony," I said firmly, "Vic forgives you. And... I think he wants you to forgive yourself too. Take the money, Anthony. I may not know that guy as well as you or anyone else, but I know when I see a good person and that guy, Vic. He's a good person. And he's trying to help you. Let him help." Anthony didn't meet my eyes for a while before looking up at me, studying my face.

"What if he regrets--"

"I don't think he will."

"But what if he--"

"Anthony," I said gently, tightening my grip on his hands, "Don't. Don't overthink things. As long as you're happy, I don't think Vic will will ever regret his decision." Anthony went to bite his lip, changed his mind and looked down at his feet before I sighed, wrapping my arms around him tightly, holding him against my chest.

"Jeez," I murmured, resting my head against his, "You're making this harder than it is. Let people help you, Anthony. We want to help you."

"I'm pretty sure that's what my AA instructor said the first two times I came in."

"He doesn't love you as much as I do." I muttered flatly. Anthony laughed at that, then sobered and let his head rest against me as I held him.

"All right," He murmured quietly, gripping at my back tightly, "Fine... But... But don't you dare turn your back on me."

"I wouldn't dream of it." I breathed, then pulled back and kissed him firmly on the lips, savoring the feel and taste of his mouth connected with mine before we broke apart, our eyes locked. I could stare at him all day, but we had work to do.

And all of it came back to one thing.

Helping Anthony.

And I didn't care how long it took, because I would do anything to make the one I loved as happy as I could.