Sidestory:
Where The River Meets The Sea

by Chris and Tami

Wade Salter knocked on the door absently, staring at the piece of paper he had clutched in one hand; it was a fresh print-out from the computer room, and Spellcheck was proving no help. Not only did it not correct the spelling correctly, but it turned Wade's words into something he didn't want in the first place.

If this was keeping up, he was going to get a big, fat F. An F was something he did not need at the moment; he had been doing just fine up until essay work was handed out. Essays were not Wade's strong point.

Nothing was lately, anyway.

He coughed lightly. "'Scuse me?"

Ian Michaels looked up from his book, a little surprised. Yes, he was on duty as the English tutor for the day. Yes, he was supposed to help students with their English troubles. Yes, he had had people come into see him before. It's just that most often, they didn't bother to come in and see him until sometime after midterms had been handed out. It's amazing how much a nice F or D can scare a lazy student into becoming a good one. That's at least what had happened to him last semester when Ian had done this the first time around. So, when someone knocked at his door, it came as a bit of a shock.

Then again, the person at the door came as a bit of a shock as well. Ian blinked a couple of times at the blue behemoth standing before him. Ian looked up at the boy with one hazel eye, and one dark blue, and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. I don't know how I missed you..." he said to himself, then hurriedly added, "I'm Ian, what can I do for you?"

The tall young man grinned slightly at the shorter and marginally older one, trying not to stare. Interesting. Hey, cool. His eyes are different colors; should be creepy, but it's not, y'know? "Hey, Ian," he fumbled. "Name's Wade. I was wonderin' if you could go through an essay with me. If you got the time. My spellcheck doesn't work."

"Sure thing, it's what the university pays me for, isn't it?" Ian said, grinning. "Spellcheck not working for you, you said? Sit down, let me see the paper, and I'll see what I can do for you, Wade," said the boy, pointing to a chair next to him.

Wade obediently sat down, handing Ian the printouts. The worry in his eyes was almost comical. "I don't spell very well," he confided. "So I usually have to let someone spellcheck for me." Like Mom. And - she used to, sometimes - but -

Ian looked from Wade, to the paper in front of him. He blinked, several times. He wasn't kidding.  No wonder why he was having spell checker troubles... I doubt it could recognize some of these words...  "Wade," he said, looking back up at him, noticing the pure and utter terror in his eyes. It was like looking at a sad puppy. Ian felt a little nervous about this; he didn't want to make Wade feel worse. Ian's eyes both went a grayish color for a moment, then the blue and hazel colors switched sides in his nervousness. "Wade, your mechanics are good, you just need help with your spelling... How much time do you have?"

"Due in two days, an' I'm right up to checkin' here and now." Wade grinned at Ian companionably. "I got a swim meeting in a couple of hours, but nothin' else; I made the time. Don' worry. I know I can't spell."

"Well, I've got practice for lacrosse in an hour and a half, anyway," Ian smiled. "I'll just, get out my pen..." Ian fumbled in his pocket for a minute, trying to find it. Holding it up triumphantly, he said, "Shall we, before we're both late?"

"Sure thing." Wade smiled gently. "Thanks a bunch, y'know."

"Just happy to help," said Ian, pulling the cap off of his pen. "Is that word `dissonance' or `discordance'?"

"Um." Wade craned his head. "'Discordance'. Is it not supposed to have a q?"

"No, not quite. And that extra o isn't supposed to be in there, either. We've got our work cut out for ourselves." Ian's pen danced across the page, leaving little marks everywhere; it looked like a spider had walked through a bottle of ink and then tap-danced across the paper. After a good hour of proofreading, Ian looked up at Wade, and said, "I think we've got it."

"You have been such a major help." Wade looked at him, blue eyes warm. "Oh, man. You saved my life."

"Who, me?" said Ian, a little embarrassed. "I'm only doing my job. I just wish that most of the people who came in here for help were half as appreciative as you."

Wade laughed. "Hey, people been putting up with my spelling for years. I learnt to get all sorry about it early on. I'm so dumb."

"Hey, don't say that," Ian said smiling a bit. "We've all got our weak points we need to work on. I can't stand philosophy, myself. So, I'm better than you at English, you've got to be able to do something better than I can. Reach that upper-shelf at the grocery store, or something," he said, half laughing.

The blue-haired boy grinned. "I can get things down from closets, too."

"There you go," said Ian. "God gave you height, use it. Anyway, if you need to see me again, I'm here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from two until five."

"Sure thin'. That'd be a big help." Wade stood, looking grateful. "My word processor sucks."

"Don't worry about it. Here, tell you what," Ian said, scribbling down on a piece of paper. "Here's my email address, just in case." `Something tell's me he's going to need it. Anyway, he seems like a nice enough guy.' he thought, as he passed the scrap of paper to Wade.

Wade industriously tucked it in his front pocket. "Man, you're nice. What I would've given to have you back as my tutor during high school!"

"You would have had to move to Baltimore for that one," chuckled Ian. "At least for the first couple of years."

"Not a native Roanoker?" Wade tucked the paper underneath his arm. "Hey, Baltimore's a nice place. My mom comes from 'roundabout up that area. I'm not a native Virginia-guy, either."

"Really? I'm actually from Ohio, myself, but that was a very long time ago." Ian glanced at his watch, then did a double take. "Crap," he hissed. "I'm going to be late for practice if I don't leave right now. I'll have to talk to you later, Wade."

"Sure. Major thanks 'gain for the essay, man." Wade lumbered towards the door, looking back over his shoulder. "I'll find some way to thank you, hokay? See you!"

"Later!" said Ian, as Wade shut the door. Ian quickly gathered his things, threw them in his bookbag, and then ran for lacrosse practice.

About a week later, Ian was sitting at home, just before bed, in front of the computer. Clare was asleep in his lap, and he didn't want to wake her, so he was just messing around on the internet, until he got too tired to do any more. That's when he realized that he hadn't checked his email for a day or so. Opening it up, he quickly scanned through his emails, automatically deleting the ones advertising great deals on mortgages, better sex lives, and amazing deals on electronics. "How do I even get on these stupid lists..." he mumbled to himself. That's when he noticed one little email that looked like it came from an actual person. Clicking on the `Hey, it's me, Wade. You helpd me the other day with my paper' title, he opened it up, and began reading.

The mail in itself was gloriously incoherent; luckily, after proofreading his essay, Ian was now partially learned in Wade's brain and spelling. The basic gist of the message, of translation, went thus;

'Thank you very much Ian for helping me with my essay. I got an A. I was majorly relieved.'

Ian quickly typed back in reply:

Good for you, Wade. Glad to see I could be of some help. May it be the first of many A's. Remember, if you need the help again, just get see me during my hours, or email me, and I'll see what I can do.

-Ian

After sending the email, he closed out of his internet browser, and shut his computer down. Carefully picking Clare up, and setting her down on a pillow, Ian shuffled off to bed.

The next morning, there was another badly-spelt email in the box. After translation;

"Thank you. I haven't been very long to college and it's kinda confusing. I'd be relaly grateful to know someone who knows the ropes, y'know?"

Ian grinned, and typed back, before he had to leave for his 10 am class:

Wade,

I was once a scared freshman, myself. If you want to, sure, I'll tell you what I know. You seem like a really nice guy, I'd be happy to help. I'm warning you, I'm not quite the best person to be asking about the social aspects of college, but I'll do my best. Do you want to meet somewhere? How about tomorrow at the library, at two?

-Ian

There was another email waiting for him when he got back home.

"That'd be great I would really like that. Uusally too busy for friends but youre a really nice guy too. I'll see you there, huh?"

Ian smiled at his computer screen. There was something intangible about Wade that made him seem... comforting. Whatever it was, Ian was going to meet him the next day at the library.

Wade was waiting for him patiently the next day, shirtsleeves rolled up at the elbows, grin white in his tanned face. "Hey," he offered shyly to Ian the moment he saw him. "How's t'ings?"

Ian smiled from behind his sunglasses, and said, "Just fine, and you?"

"Jus' great." Wade tilted his head and swallowed. "Er, hey, not bein' rude, but can I ask you somethin'?"

Ian's eyebrow raised up above his glasses slightly, and he asked in a quizzical voice, "What is it, Wade?"

Wade's face looked taken in wonderment. "Is one of your eyes a contact lens?"

Ian made a sound that was half laugh, half sigh. "You seemed so serious," Ian said. "I thought it was something... never mind. To answer your question, no. They're my real eyes. Here, watch." Ian took his glasses off, and looked up into Wade's astonished face.

Ian's right hazel eye suddenly turned a grayish, and his left blue eye also turned grayish for a moment. A couple of seconds later, the blue eye was sitting on the right half of his face, while the hazel was happily resting on the left. "Ever seen a contact do that?"

"Whoa!" Wade blurted, staring openly, completely fascinated. "Hokay. No. Never. That is way too cool." He flushed slightly. "Geez, I must sound like such a dork but... I ain't ever seen a pair of eyes do that."

Ian looked at the people around them who had focused their gazes fully upon the blue haired boy and his shorter friend, and his cheeks tinged slightly pink. "Yes, well, outside of myself, I've never seen anything like this before either. It's murder on my driver's license, I'll tell you." Ian slipped his glasses back on, even though it was dim in the library. "Don't want more people staring than we've already got. Come on, let's sit down somewhere." Ian led Wade to a table in a corner of the library, and asked, "So, what did you want to talk about, other than my eyes?"

"Oh, y'know. Anythin'." Wade sat down, carefully placing bandaged hands on the top of the desk. There were bandaids at the tips; they were Tweety Bird. "Talk about you, mebbe."

"Me?" Ian asked. "Well, I'm an English and French major, in my junior year. I play as an attacker on the lacrosse team here, and I'd like to think I'm fairly decent at it. I love dogs, and I own a rottweiler named Bruce, and a," he paused slightly, "ferret named Clare. That's about it for me." `Other than the fact that I'm also the Archangel Gabriel,' Ian thought to himself. Ian then noticed Wades' fingers, and the fact that most of them were covered in bandaids. "Wade, what did you do to your hands? Do you work on engines? I know if I work on my motorcycle, that'll tear my fingers up pretty well..."

"Oh, no," Wade hastily said. "It was - uh - y'know, piano accident, I'm a musician and we blister our fingers all the time, y'know?" But only when we play until our fingers bleed. "Lacrosse?" he asked, to change the topic. "Now, that's pretty neat."

"Eh, I wave a big stick around with a net on one end, and throw a ball into a goal. It's loads of fun, though. I've played it ever since 8th grade. I'm an attackman on the college team. What about you, Wade? What do you do? I wish I could play an instrument."

"Swim." Wade grinned. "Well, I'm doin' a music degree, so I hope I can play an instrument by now, y'know? I kind of work with music, too, so that's pretty much a given."

"Music major, huh? That's something I really couldn't do. Couldn't play or sing to save my soul. Love listening to it, though, just can't play it," Ian said, smiling. "You say you swim? That's something I can actually do. Always loved the water, myself, it's relaxing."

"Yeah. I love the water." Wade's eyes lit up. "Joinin' the swim team here in RC. I think I love the ocean best, but I haven't been near it in a while, so I hafta make do with chlorine."

"My grandparents live on one of the Great Lakes, so when we go to visit them, I'll go swimming there. It's really nice and big, almost seems endless. So, anything else you'd like to know?" asked Ian.

"What's the workload been like? In your opinion?"

"I wish I could go back to freshman year... Everything was so much simpler then..." Ian reminisced. "It's hard, yeah, but it's doable. I like most of my professors in the English and French departments, so that's always a plus. Stay on the good sides of your professors, and you should do fine. Oh, and do your math homework, too," Ian smirked.

Wade's face cleared. "That's h'okay, y'know? I love math. Math's one of my favorites."

"Good for you, then. Outside of my major I always liked physics, and that's got an awful lot of math with it. I'm going to have to be careful scheduling my time this year, though. My workload really increased from last year," said Ian.

"Gee, you're really makin' things sound fun," Wade teased. "Gosh. I won't wanna make it to the next year."

"Oh," said Ian dismissing that last comment with a wave of his hand. "While my work at school has increased some, it's other things outside of school that are eating up my time, currently. I just have to balance between them, is all."

"Right," Wade said softly. "You sound busy."

"Aren't we all? Still, I try and make time to do things; like this for instance. You're a pretty nice guy, Wade. At least from what I can tell so far," he said, with a slight grin. "You're honest, I like that."

"Heh. Maybe too honest." Wade shrugged, rubbing his forehead. "Get in trouble for honesty sometimes."

Ian closed his eyes, and softly quoted:

For want of me the world's course will not fail;
When all its work is done the lie shall rot;
The truth is great and shall prevail
When none cares whether it prevail or not.

"Stick to your guns, Wade. Sometimes you've got to do what you've got to do."

"Maybe." Wade's voice was faraway, eyes dark. "T'anks, Ian. I... I know you mean that."

Ian sensed that whatever Wade was thinking of, it wasn't a happy memory, so he tried to turn the conversation to something else. "Got any brothers or sisters? I'm an only child, myself."

Wade immediately beamed. He liked that topic. "Yeah, two little twin brothers, just started at Patrick Henry."

"Twins? That's cool. I always wanted a little brother of my own. I never got one, though; just me and mom and dad. Oh, and the dog. Got to love the dog. Bruce, my dog, is like a part of the family. You got any pets, Wade?"

"Yeah." He grinned. "A water-turtle."

"Neat," said Ian. "Never had one of those, myself, just the dog, and Clare, my weasel. Clare's a real sweetie, too."

"A weasel?"

Ian took in his breath sharply.  I didn't just say what I thought that I said, did I? "Did I say weasel?" he said, thanking God that he was still wearing his glasses, because he could feel his eyes agitating. "I meant ferret. I just call her a weasel. Sounds manlier," Ian hoped Wade would buy that explanation.

Wade burst out laughing, quieting the peals quickly as he grinned. "A ferret's jus' as cool. Man, I wouldn' want a weasel. Those things bite, y'know?"

Ian thought about the one time that Clare actually did bite him gently on the finger. "Yeah, I'd imagine that that could hurt quite a bit," absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over his pointer finger. "So, you do anything other than swim and go to class?"

"I work downtown sometimes."

"Really? What do you do?" asked Ian.

Wade grinned a little, embarrassed and pleased; he'd gotten this job only recently, and found he liked it very much. "Play piano in a hotel bar, y'know? The hours are weird but I really like it. I think that workin' with something you love is the most important thing."

Ian dug around in his book bag, and pulled out a very beaten looking notebook. "I know what you mean," he said, waving the notebook around in the air a bit. "Story ideas, for when I finally write that book."

"You wanna be a writer?" He smiled. "I came to the right person t'correct my spellin'!"

"Yeah... Still trying to figure out just what to write about, though. Can't make up my mind. I'll do it someday, though," Ian said with a half smile.

"You'll figure out. Kind of like music. You have to really think about what you want to play." Wade gave him a big grin. "What's bein' a college student like, so far away from your mom and dad? Don't you miss 'em?"

"`Course I do," said Ian. "I might have stayed in Baltimore, closer to my parents, but Roanoke offered me a position on their lacrosse team. How could I refuse? It's a nice place to live. My mom tries to make as many of my home games as she can, so she's down at least twice a month during the season. Dad's busy, so he only makes it to a couple of games. Phone calls, you have to make the weekly phone call. `Course, you've got to like it when your mom brings you something she made, like cookies; `Poor Starving College Student Syndrome'," Ian said with a dry grin.

Wade grinned. "Wish I could ride that gravy train."

"What?" asked Ian, smiling. "You mean to tell me that you do all of the cooking at your place?"

"Every one. Mom don't cook often."

"Ouch, sorry to hear about that one, man," Ian said. "Do you at least like it?"

"Yeah. I like cooking." Wade ducked his head, cheeks going pink. "S'good practice for when I get a family of my own someday. An' it means I can use whatever I want. I like healthy meals."

Ian chuckled at that. "You mean the six and a half foot tall guy didn't get to be that big on french-fries? I never would have guessed. They tend to keep us lacrosse guys on a pretty strict regimen, too. It's not like I eat anything other than ramen, soup, or macaroni, though. I'm not a very good cook," he said, rolling his eyes.

"How long's it been since you las' ate a proper meal?"

Ian held his hand out in front of him, and said, "Let me see here, today is Tuesday..." He than began ticking off his fingers for a few moments. "July," he said flatly.

Wade opened his eyes wide. That long without a proper, home-cooked meal. Living on ramen and soup and... still being an athlete... no wonder college kids were so hungry. "Wanna come over for a meal sometime?" he asked sympathetically. "I get kinda lonely, just having two boring fifteen-year-olds to talk to." And no 'Ayya, though that's my own stupid fault.

Ian sat in silence for a moment, weighing his options. `You hardly know this guy,' he told himself. `It isn't like you to do something like this...' Yet another part of him said, `You never do something like this, do it... You seem to get along well with him...' And then again, there was that intangible feeling that Ian got that somehow or another, Wade seemed comfortable to be around; sort of like an old shirt. "Wade," he answered, "how could I say no to a home cooked meal. When will you have me?"

Wade looked pathetically, stupidly grateful. "This Friday?"

Ian grinned, slightly shyly, "Sure thing, Wade. I'd be happy to be your guest. So, where and what time?"

Wade rifled through his knapsack, pulling out a piece of paper and scribbling on it in carefully easy-to-read handwriting his address and phone number. "Here. We're out in the 'burbs, not that far, don't take me long to get here every mornin'. I can pick you up from the dorms if you like. Got any allergies?"

"If you picked me up from the dorms, I'd have to ride to get there. I've got an apartment a few blocks from campus. Don't worry, I've got my own transportation. As long as it isn't sushi, or oysters, I'll be just fine," he said, taking the piece of paper, and folding it carefully into his wallet.

"No sushi, no oysters. Can' stand seafood, m'self." Wade beamed as if Christmas had been announced to come early. He suddenly felt as if a huge weight had been taken from his shoulders; not so desperately lonely, not faced with another night of nothing. "Promise."

Ian could almost feel the happiness oozing out of Wade's body. "Sure thing," said Ian, feeling a little bit happier himself. Clare would tell him that it was good that he was getting out a bit more, even if it wasn't on Angelus business. "Still, what time do you want me there for supper? Six? Seven? Five?" he said, grinning.

"Come at quarter-to-six," Wade beamed. "By that time I'll have finished all my chores an' my music practice, anyway, and I'll have started on dinner. Mom'll probably drop in, she always does early on Fridays."

"I'll be there with bells on, Wade," said Ian. "Anything you'd like me to bring, other than an appetite?"

"Nah. We're all cool." Wade ran a hand through his fringe of spikes, looking shy. "T'anks. It's... I don't get out a lot or have many guy-friends. Been hangin' around a lot of girls lately. I love girls, they're really sweet, but... they kinda tease me a lot 'cause I'm the only guy and talk about girly stuff, and I don' mind being teased, but... y'know."

Ian lowered his glasses, and stared at Wade for a moment. "Now you're sounding like me. Not the girls... well, I like girls, but the shy bit... You sure you aren't me?"

Wade made a show of peering over at Ian mock-seriously. "Nah. Hair's the wrong color an' the wrong length an'... you're the wrong height, man."

Ian laughed at this. "You got the eyes right. One of them, anyway. You're too tall to be allowed, anyway."

"Means doorways suddenly get interestin'," he grinned. "And I would've really liked basketball if I hadn't kept on fallin' over."

"But you swim," Ian said. "With your size, you would have made a great defenseman for lacrosse... Que sera sera," he shrugged.

"Prefer the water." His smile was dreamy. "Always have."

"Whatever you say, Poseidon," said Ian with a grin.

Wade stared at him for a heartbeat of moments before shaking his head, color rising to his cheeks. "Uh," he said intelligently, followed by a quick, "See you on Friday, right?"

"Yeah, sure thing, Wade, Friday," Ian answered, slightly puzzled by Wade's reaction. Maybe he didn't get the reference.  "Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

"Cool. I hope wild horses won' get too jealous anyway." Wade grinned at him, funny moment apparently over. "Got a meet to go to, y'know. See you later?"

"Yeah, see you on Friday, Wade," said Ian. "I've got my three o'clock class to get to anyway. Later!" Ian picked his bookbag back up, and stood up from the table.

Wade pulled his knapsack over his shoulder again, grinning. "Have fun. Don' work yourself too hard before Friday, y'know."

"As long as you don't," said Ian. "Have a good week, Wade," said Ian. `Now, let me think, I've got my three o'clock, practice, then homework, patrol... At least Wade doesn't have to worry about that last bit.' Ian picked his bookbag up, and headed out the door, waving to Wade.

The next Friday, Wade absently pottered around the Salter's kitchen as he prepared the evening meal. As he had been doing it for a very long time, he was able to easily multitask as he slid a lasagna into the oven and wiped his hands.

"What's the root of eighty-one again, Wade?" Simon hollered from the living room. Danny was currently playing with rapt fascination a video game; as he lay on his stomach and battled it out with dragons and bishounen, his twin was happy to lie crossways behind him with Danny's legs on his back.

"Nine," Wade hollered back. "Fifteen years ol' and you haven' memorized that yet?"

"I forgot!"

Rolling his eyes and grinning, Wade quickly repulled his hair into a ponytail; long blue locks had begun to escape. Both twins had been extremely relieved to see a smile on their brother's face. Ever since he'd fallen out with Rayya - which he hadn't mentioned, but had been easily guessed - his smiles were rare. Now he seemed almost jovial, a parody of old Wade, messing around in the kitchen in preparation for a friend. Both twins had whispered wildly to each other about the possibility of it being the violet-eyed brunette, but Wade had set down firmly the fact that it was a boy.

"Think we should eat the pumpkin pie or the strawberry pie for afters?" Wade wondered aloud.

"The pumpkin pie," Simon suggested. "That way I can have more."

"Greedy pig, y'know?"

“I'm a growing lad!" Simon shrieked theatrically. "If I waste away, I'll never make it to my next audition!"

The doorbell rang. The purple-spike-haired twin immediately jumped up; placid Danny didn't even notice. "Me! I'll get it! I'll get it!"

Racing over, he opened it up.

Standing outside the door, holding a motorcycle helmet in one hand, was Ian. His `cycle was parked in the driveway, shining black and silver in the last few rays of evening sun. Smiling a bit at the violet haired boy, Ian said, "Are you Wade's brother? I'm Ian. Nice to meet you."

Simon gawped at Ian, then gawped at the motorcycle, taking in the older boy's double-colored eyes and then his mode of transport. When he finally found his voice again, it was filled with fervent awe. "You are so the coolest friend my brother has ever had."

Ian's cheeks tinged slightly pink. "If you say so," said Ian, a little humiliated at the sudden and unexpected praise. "Can I, uh, come in?"

"Sure." With a grand flourish, Simon held the door open for him. "I'm Simon, call me Si or Spike if you can't manage that, most people can, pretty easy to tell me apart from Wade and Danny, being that I am so the only awesome one in this family. The other two're boring. Hey, you look way too stylin' to be a college tutor."

"I'm an English tutor, but I'm still a junior at Roanoke. As to stylin' ... I just wear what I like to wear." Ian shrugged a bit as he went in the door. "Anywhere you want me to put this, Si?" he asked hefting up his helmet.

Simon took it, looked at it thoughtfully, then set it down on the rack with the coats. "It'll do fine there. Come on in. Wade's busily playing Papa Salter in the kitchen like he usually does."

"Sure thing," said Ian. Ian followed Simon into the house, and through a hallway, until he reached the kitchen. Ian sniffed the air; he could already taste the meal in his mouth. "Dear Lord, whatever it is that you're making, Wade..." Ian let his voice trail off.

Wade turned around to smile at Ian, straightening up from checking through the door of the oven. "Lasagna. Recipe I got fro - " He paused, a momentary shiver of pain moving over his face before he erased it deliberately. "Great recipe anyway, y'know. It'll be ready in a little bit. Hope you like pumpkin pie. Hey, want a drink?"

"Excuse me, but I can't of heard you right. Pumpkin pie? You made pumpkin pie?" Seeing the slightly confused look on Wade's face, Ian continued, "I love pumpkin pie. Oh yes, sure, I'll take something to drink. Whatever you've got is fine," Ian said, answering Wade's question.

"We have soda. Hope you can stand Mountain Dew or Coke." Wade beamed. "I like making pies."

"Or," Simon drawled from the living room, "you can mix the Coke and the Mountain Dew together in a drink I like to call... death."

Ian answered Simon back, "No, you'd need to add at the very least root beer before you can call it `death.' Preferably root beer and orange soda, but it works almost as well without the orange." Ian turned his attention back to Wade, "And I like eating pies. And, Mountain Dew is just fine."

"Good. All Salter men like eatin' pies, and you've just been adopted for the evening to help eat dinner." Wade washed his hands in the sink. "Danny! Simon! You two set the table now, y'hear?"

Grumpy teenage noises arose from the two as the twins picked themselves up off the floor.

Ian smiled and asked, "So, need me to do anything, Wade? I feel kinda left out," he said, pointing to the twins dragging themselves over to the kitchen table.

"Nah," Wade said fondly. "They like doin' it."

Both twins glared mildly at their brother. The identical spit image of each other, they would have been impossible to tell apart had it not been for clashing clothes and hairstyles; self-proclaimed 'awesome' Simon had short, spiked hair, a lot of silvery piercings in one ear, and was currently wearing deliberately baggy jeans and a short sleeveless top. Danny, the sleepy-eyed other, had longer shaggier dark-violet hair to his shoulders, a t-shirt announcing how cool Vegeta was, and jeans baggy because he'd stolen them off Wade and had to winch them up with a belt.

"Hey," Danny suddenly said, perking up. "He has eyes like Yuna's. Like on the preview for Final Fantasy X."

Ian looked over to Wade, who was smiling like a madman. "Alright, alright, I'll do it. Boys," he said to the twins. "Can I have your attention, please. Look at my eyes, and keep looking at them." Danny and Simon looked at Ian's eyes, while Ian concentrated. As he was looking at them, the hazel and blue colors blended into one, and the blue eye that used to be on the left was suddenly on the right, and the hazel eye that was on the right was now resting on the left side of Ian's face. "Well?" Ian asked when it was over.

Matching looks of horror, awe, and a little more horror came over the twins' faces.

"I wish mine did that so bad," Simon professed.

"... that's cool," Danny affirmed. "Creepy, but cool."

Ian chuckled and shook his head. "Well, at least I've made a favorable impression with your brothers, Wade."

"We're not jaded yet," Simon said cheerfully, laying out the tablecloth. "Wade has no friends. He's friendless. Chronically so. You're like, fresh meat."

"Well, isn't that... nice to know. I'll keep that in mind, Si. Oh, and I don't think I ever caught your name?" Ian asked Danny.

"Danny," the teenager muttered.

"He doesn't speak," Simon explained. "Just grunts sometimes."

"That ain't very nice," Wade reprimanded him.

"Oh, that's alright. Half the lacrosse team speaks in grunt. I'm quite fluent." Ian grunted at Wade and Simon, then moved his eyebrows around a bit, and moved his head to the side, then looked back at Danny.

Danny paused thoughtfully.

"... Whatever," he affirmed, then went back to laying out the forks, obviously having gone to the Squall Leonhart Conversation School.

"Worth a shot," said Ian, grinning slightly, and shrugging. "So, how've you been, Wade?"

"Bin fine," he said cheerily. "Practicin' for a composition next week. My first one. I'm so sweatin' bullets over it."

"Composition?" Ian asked. "When are you playing? Maybe I could make it, or something. Moral support, and all."

"Wednesday morning." Wade checked the timer on the oven. "Down in the music hall. Anybody sits in who wants to laugh at us compositioneers, y'know? Jus' doing a piano piece, no vocals, but I'm still nervous as anythin'."

"Nerd," Danny grunted briefly by way of sympathy.

"As long as you play before ten am, I can make it," said Ian. "I'll be your little cheering section."

"Nine-thirty. That'll do." Wade bustled back into the kitchen, grabbing the soda out the fridge.

Ian caught the soda that Wade tossed at him, and opened it up, pouring about half of it down his throat. "You get thirsty riding on a motorcycle," he said, then burped a bit. "`Scuse me."

"Isn' it dangerous?"

"You sound like my mom, Wade," chuckled Ian. "I haven't had any problems yet, and I'm careful. I've always managed to come out on top before, never had an accident. Anyway, it's a good way to clear your mind, just driving."

"I do the same thin' in the water." Wade grinned at him, then eyed the twins. "And, no, you two can't have motorbikes."

"Cloud had a motorbike," Danny persisted stubbornly.

"I don't care." The oven beeped. "Right. You guys ready for dinner?"

Ian's eyes lit up. "You know I am; haven't had anything like lasagna for months... Where do you want me to sit?"

"At the table." Wade grinned as he pulled on oven mitts. "Anywhere you want. Mom can't make it tonight, so we won't be interrupted or nothin'."

Ian went over to the table, and sat down at one of the set places. Wade brought the food over to the table, and Ian sat, beaming happily. As the twins sat down Ian asked, slightly shyly, "Do you... uh, say grace?"

"Yeah, we do." Wade grinned. "I usually say it, but if you want to tonight, that'd be just gravy, if you wanna." He went to the fridge to get the salad, putting it down before seating himself next to Ian.

Ian smiled and said, "I'll do it, then." Ian closed his eyes, and went to say a prayer. Feeling slightly nervous, the only thing he could think to say was a prayer that Clare had been teaching him; in Latin, of course. "Benedic, Domine, nos et haec tua dona quae de tua largitate sumus sumpturi. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Mensae coelestis participes faciat nos, Rex aeternae gloriae. Ad coenam vitae aeternae perducat nos, Rex aeternae gloriae. Amen." Ian looked up from his folded hands at the three sitting around him. I must have sounded like an idiot.  What a time to blank out.

"Amen," the others chorused.

"You Catholic?" Wade asked helpfully.

Danny, who knew all the words to One-Winged Angel, gawped. "... I want him as my brother."

Ian blushed quite a bit at Danny's comment. "It's just... something a friend of mine is teaching me. She's really big on Latin, and it was the only thing that I could think of at the time... Baptist, actually."

Wade looked slightly relieved that he hadn't offended him in some way. "Yeah, us too. My pastor never taught me any Latin, though." Chuckling, he half-stood to grab the serving spoon, pulling the platter of lasagna over so that he could serve some first to Ian as the guest. "Pity."

"You want to learn Latin?" Ian asked, slightly puzzled, as he took the plate passed to him. "That's not a very common want."

"Nah. Danny's the one who wants that, right, Dan?"

Danny nodded curtly. "Yes."

"Well, I'm afraid that I only know a little bit. I'm double majoring in French, though," replied Ian, taking fork in hand.

Wade began serving to the twins. "That hard?"

"Sometimes l'imparfait and I get into a bit of a fight, but it's not too awful bad. Just have to study a bit harder, is all. So, how's your week been?" Ian asked, as he began to eat the supper set before him.

"Busy. Man, those professors give us sooo much homework, y'know? But it's really kinda fun. Well, not the homework, 'cause it's homework, but being at college, y'know? Takes my mind off it."

"I know what you mean," Ian said. "College can be kicking your butt, but you still love it, just because of the experiences and the people. It's a never-ending cycle."

Simon looked at them both in derision. "You guys are nerds. You suck."

"Ten minutes ago I was cool, and now I'm a nerd. Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Ian said with a sly smirk across his face.

"Well, you looked cool, but you have the heart and soul of a geek," the first twin said sadly. "No wonder you're friends with him."

"Ah, a geek in a cool guy's clothing, eh?" Ian said. "I guess Wade and I are just two great big dorks. Though, he's obviously the bigger one, isn't that right?"

"Well, literally." Danny dug his fork into his food. "...Big dork and small dork."

Ian smiled and shook his head, slightly. "Maybe that's why I seem to like Wade. We've a common thread in our dorkdom. I'll have to have you over to my place sometime, Wade. I'll introduce you to the dog and ferret."

"Wade should show you his turtle," Simon piped up, rocking back in his chair. "S'the coolest turtle ever, man, it bites your finger if you say it looks ugly. I think that's the neatest trick. We could make megabucks off it."

"Don' go teasin' Livvy when I'm not here," Wade muttered.

"I'll have to see Livvy after supper, Wade. I'm sure she's a lovely turtle. I can't tell you the last time I've eaten like this. Thanks a lot, Wade," Ian said, with a shy grin on his face.

"Hey, no problem. The twins jus' would've eaten it all anyway and gotten fat."

"We are not fat!" they chorused indignantly.

"The things that I missed out on by being an only child," Ian said slyly.

"I was an only child once," Wade said sadly. "Then these guys came along. Man, they made my life suck." He winked surreptitiously at Ian.

"You could always try selling them to the gypsies. Though, I doubt they'd give you much for such old and surly brothers," Ian replied.

"Wade's always trying to sell us to the gypsies," Simon tattled.

"Must not want you, then," Ian chuckled. "Gypsies are getting lax in their child bartering these days."

"I'd have to pay the gypsies to take 'em away, y'know!"

Ian sniggered into his lasagna. "Have you got that much money?"

"Nah, it's why they're still here." Wade mock-sighed.

"Hah, hah. Very funny."

Ian set his fork on his empty plate, and sighed. "Wade that was delicious, really superb. Thumbs up, man. When's dessert?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"... I'll get it," Danny volunteered, picking up his and his twin's plates as he darted into the kitchen. Simon gathered Ian's and Wade's.

"No sticking your finger into the whipped cream," Wade said sternly.

"You've got them trained," Ian said with a grin. "When I dirty something up at my place, I've got to take care of it myself, or the dog'll get to it."

"Well, these guys are harder to make go on walks than dogs." Wade grinned at Ian. "They never get up and it's illegal to put leashes on 'em and they whine..."

"Walking Bruce is an adventure, let me tell you. He's a Rottweiler, and weighs more than I do; if he really wants to go somewhere, he can. You meet the most interesting people that way," Ian said with a soft grin, remembering his encounter that summer with the other Angelus.

"You're a dog-kinda guy, huh?"

"Oh yeah," came Ian's enthusiastic reply. "I love the big furry things. They love you unconditionally. I've always had one around since I was a little kid. I got Bruce when I moved to college. Love him to death. What about you?"

"Wade always wanted a puppy when we were younger," Simon butted in, setting down the pumpkin pie as Danny got plates. "Used to go on and on and on about it but Mom wouldn't have one in the house so he got a turtle instead. Pretty pathetic, but the turtle's pretty neat."

Ian was almost drooling over the pumpkin pie. He wasn't expecting to have one of those until Thanksgiving, and here was one staring him in the face. "Well, as long as you're happy with the turtle, that's all that counts," he said. "Now, about that pie..." he beamed.

Wade grinned, simply divided the entire pie into four quarters and gave each person one. "Feedin' frenzy, sharktwins."

Ian looked down at the pie, and an almost evil grin crossed his face. Three minutes later, there was nothing left on the plate but a few scattered crumbs, and some whipped cream. Ian looked up from his plate, and said, "Wade, I haven't eaten like this in forever. Thank you. I should do this more often."

"Yeah." Wade was practically glowing, scooping up some remnants with his fingers and eating it off - whilst looking slightly guilty, as if someone was going to hit him for his sudden lack of manners. "It's been way fun. Usually I just talk to the twins 'bout how school's goin'. You like Mr. di Rossi as your English teach, huh, guys?"

Danny made an affirmative snort; Simon immediately beamed. "Yeah, he's neat, and don't you ask the next question because yes we've done all our homework and can we go now?"

"'Course," Wade said graciously. "After you stack the dishwasher. C'mon, Ian, let's leave 'em to it." There was a dual chorus of groans.

Ian took a last drink of water, then set his glass down on the table, having it whisked away by Simon only moments later. "What now?" he asked. "A discourse on metaphysics, a serious discussion on whether or not the name `Sustenance Constitutional' is a good name for a band, or maybe I you can show me around the house?"

"Let's do all three, only don' ask me about the metaphysics." Wade stood up. "C'mon. Let's take a traipse around the grounds."

"The Salt-Ah Manor," Simon drawled from the kitchen. "C'mon, longhair, hurry up with those plates."

Ian got up from his chair, and went over to where Wade was waiting. "So, where to first?"

"Outside, mebbe?" he suggested. "It's still light out and I just wanna go turn off the sprinklers."

Ian nodded and followed Wade outside, to the garden. Ian closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, taking in the scent of rich, moist soil. "Really nice garden you've got, Wade. Wish I had some room to garden at the apartment; always loved that sort of thing."

Wade grinned with no small amount of pride. The back yard was neat and trimmed into submission; at the moment all the summer flowers were blooming, and there were beautiful red and pink rosebushes hanging in heavy sprays by the fences. It was a typical, beautiful affluent-suburbia-flower-fancier garden. "Me'n mom get in here every weekend and I make the twins go weed if they have a fight," he explained as he went over to the tap near the hose. "Those pink roses, they're my babies. We've had pink roses since I was about ten 'cause I always thought they looked like strawberry icecreams." He suddenly blushed a little. "I bet that's wussy, huh?"

"Nah," said Ian, grinning. "I grew jasmine and lavender, because it smelled like the perfume that my mom used to wear when I was little. I'd say we're about even."

Wade raised his hand to prompt Ian into a high-five. "Mom always said there was nothin' more manly than a guy workin' in the garden."

Ian shook his head, grinning, and high-fived Wade. "Try telling that to the lacrosse team."

"Okay," he said innocently. "Any of 'em taller than I am?"

Ian looked Wade up and down for a moment, before he answered, "Not really, no."

"Then I'll be sure to tell 'em if I get the chance."

"I still say that you'd make a great defenseman, if you could handle a lacrosse stick."

Wade shook his head. "Nah. I kinda stay away from contact sports, though lacrosse ain't really."

"We all run around with dorky helmets and gloves and pads. You don't get hurt too often. It's given me a scar or two in the past, though." Ian slightly hiked up his left short leg, and the edge of a fairly large scar was visible, disappearing beneath the fabric. "Never bled so much in my life," said Ian. "We won, though," he added.

Wade just laughed. "Not my thing. I don' like blood."

Ian raised his eyebrow and looked up at Wade wryly. "At the time, I didn't really care for blood, either."

"Wouldn' think so, no." Grinning, Wade beckoned him back inside. "C'mon."

Ian followed Wade back into the house, and asked, "Where now?"

"My room?" he suggested. "Not many other rooms in the house unless you want to trash the twins' bedrooms and read their secret diaries, but that's kinda petty."

"Your room's fine. We'll save the diary reading for later." Ian followed Wade, and tramped up the stairs after him, until they reached the second floor.

Wade lead him down the corridor to his room on the end; wide and spacious and painted, unsurprisingly, blue, it was neat and tidy and organized. The main feature was a piano and an aquarium where a tiny orange-and-black turtle swam peacefully; thick sheaves of music paper lay on top of the piano.

"Nice room," said Ian, looking it over. He walked over to the aquarium and piano, and looked down at the turtle swimming around in it. "This must be," Ian paused, trying to remember, "Livvy, was it?" Wade nodded an affirmative, and Ian continued, "'Lo, Livvy. Pretty little thing, isn't she? She looks so happy swimming around in the water; got lovely bright markings on her, too."

Surprisingly, the turtle stopped, swimming to the bottom of the tank to stare at Wade and his companion. Wade gave an embarrassing little wave to the turtle before he knew what he was doing, and hoped Ian didn't notice. "She is really gorgeous, y'know. Very sweet."

"Shy?" Ian asked Wade without really expecting an answer. "Turtles and beauty..." Ian said, a look of thought crossing his face. "For, lo! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land," quoted Ian, looking down at Livvy as he said so.

Livia immediately did the turtle equivalent of bouncing, swimming up and down in sudden circles. "That's sweet of y'," Wade whispered to Ian, "but she can't sing."

"Neither can I, but that doesn't stop me from trying every now and again," Ian said with a chuckle. "Simon said if you called her ugly she'd bite your finger; well if you call her lovely, she'll swim around happily. She certainly is a smart turtle." Ian picked up a sheaf of sheet music, looked at it, and asked, "So, what are you playing?"

"At the moment?" Wade leaned back against his piano slightly. "Practicin' for group display, Rufus Wainwright. 'Complainte De La Butte', though don' ask me what it all means 'cause I'm not the one singin' in French."

"'Lament of the Butte,'" Ian threw back. "It's a place name, or something like that. Good luck with the playing, though."

"Oh, it's pretty easy," the blue-haired boy said confidently. "You should see the guy who plays the accordion."

"Accordion," Ian said. "Interesting. And I'll be listening to this, will I?"

"Nah, this is for another class. I'll be doing my own composition." Theatrically, Wade shuddered. "Nervous."

"Hey, I'm sure you'll do okay," Ian beamed. "Just don't wear tweetybird band aids when you play, it won't look professional," he said with a wink.

"Oh, my fingers'll have healed by then," he said seriously. "I'll be fine. No Tweety Bird for me."

"Good. Just take care of yourself between now and then, and you'll do fine. Care to give a demonstration?" he asked with a sly grin.

Wade blushed red. "What? On the piano, y'know?"

"No, on the air guitar," Ian grinned. "Of course on the piano, you Jolly Blue Giant."

"Jolly Blue Giant?" Wade burst out laughing.

"Yes, Jolly Blue Giant," Ian grinned. "It's fitting. You're big, blue, and blissful; now play that piano, before I come up with another stupid name for you."

Wade sighed, pulled his piano bench up, and slid down into the seat gently. Absently, he fingered the C-chord, brushing his fingers over the keys. His posture was perfect and it was obvious he had been at the instrument a very long time. There was an odd regret in his face, as well; wistfulness. "Any requests, man?"

Ian looked at Wade sitting at the bench, and said, "Well, you said you play jazz at a hotel bar? How about some of that? You know `Heaven' by Ella Fitzgerald and Louie Armstrong?"

Wade immediately broke into a smile, fingers moving over the keys as he began to play softly. "I think I'm shyest 'bout playing for people I actually know," he confided. "Strangers're easy."

"Then," started Ian, reaching over to a hook on the wall where a hat was hanging, he took it off, and placed the overly large fedora on his head, shading his eyes. "Pretend you don't know me," he beamed.

Wade burst out laughing, resting his head against the top of the piano, somehow managing to keep the song going underneath his fingers. "That makes it harder!"

"Try and help a guy out," chuckled Ian. He took the hat off, and put it back on the rack. "Better?"

"Much." Relaxed, Wade half-closed his eyes, getting lost in the melody momentarily as he hummed underneath his breath. Looking back at Ian, he smiled. "Actually, much better."

"Good. Go ahead and sing, if you want to," Ian said. "I can tell you want too. Just don't expect me to sing Ella's lines. My voice is bad enough, without me singing falsetto."

"Nah." He looked shy again, humming a few more lines, his deep voice a soft velvet rumble before he stopped. "I always wanna sing when I get to a piano, but s'just me."

"I always sing along to Five Iron songs, but that's just me," he answered. "Standing at the peak where two waves meet. Are you just behind the other side of music? Peering like a flower never taught to grow..." he repeated quietly, with a grin. "It's my favorite band. Ska."

Wade's fingers stopped on the piano. "Pretty rhymes," he smiled. "Never heard a Five Iron song, y'know? I'm kinda tradish about my music."

"Five Iron Frenzy," Ian added. "That's their full name; really fun Christian ska band. Anyway, really nice piano playing, Wade. Thumbs up," he said, making the hand signal as he said so.

Wade bowed low and dramatic over the piano, standing up to push the chair in. "I'm not good with anythin' happy lately," he admitted. "Only have real spirit with the sad stuff. Beethoven and me, we've been pals."

Ian's face took a more concerned look to it, and he sat down carefully on the edge of Wade's bed. "You feelin' all right, Wade? Anything you want to talk about, guy to guy?"

He laughed, albeit slightly nervously. "Hey, man, don' wanna dump my problems on you."

"Hey, I'm a good listener. We've all got our troubles every now and then. Sometimes it helps if you talk to someone about it. If you need me, I'll be here for you," came his warm reply.

"I know." Wade looked up. "I'm really grateful, Ian."

"If I ever need somebody to talk to, I'll be knocking down your door, you hear?" he said with a half grin."

Wade immediately smiled. "I'm here'n ready and open for anything you wanna talk about."

"Good, I'll take you up on that offer when the time arises," came Ian's reply. "Now that we've got the melancholy out of our system, what's next on the game plan?"

"I'm game for anythin'," came the cheerful reply. "We could always go downstairs and let the twins kick our asses with some violent video game action."

"I had a Super Nintendo, once..." mused Ian. "Let's do it. Grrr, gamefaces," he growled, scowling and trying to look slightly menacing.

Wade also attempted to look menacing. It failed slightly. "Yeah. We'll kick 'em to Ohio."

"Good, my grandparents can take care of them, then. Your brothers won't want to leave, once gran'ma starts feeding them," Ian said chuckling and heading out of the room, and back down the stairs to the first floor.

"Never had grandparents," Wade mused.

"All the more reason for them to meet mine; I'll give you a cookie the next time gran'ma sends me a batch," answered Ian.

The tall boy laughed, taking two-steps to get down to the bottom of the stairs and peek into the living room. Simon and Danny were busily playing a noisy round of Tekken, which mostly consisted of Danny beating the crud out of Simon with noisy Dragon Breath SFX Loud Squealing Bloodspattery Kicks on the Playstation. Simon, unconcerned, merely yelled abuse. "You're really lucky."

"Mind if we sit in a round or two?" asked Ian as Simon's character's health bar dipped to zero, signaling the end of the match.

"... watch out," Danny advised. "Wade can't play for anything."

"Hey, untrue," his brother protested sunnily. "I kick you two in at Virtual Chess."

"Then you'll have all the more fun grinding our bones into the floor," Ian replied.

Simon smirked. "Kill them, longhair."

Ian picked up one of the discarded controllers, and sat down on the floor. "Not kill, merely... embarrass and humiliate us," he grinned.

"I will spindle, fold, mutilate and misuse you," Danny intoned.

"Oh, no maiming; darn. I was looking forward to that. I haven't been maimed for quite some time," came Ian's dry counter.

"Do not sass me," Danny intoned again. "I am Lord Killasaurus."

"Lord Killasaurus, how nice to meet you," Ian said, grabbing a nearby pillow, and making use of it. "Shall we?"

Simon coughed. "Quick. What's your fighting name?"

"Call me... Archangel. And yourself?"

"I'm usually Corporal Bloodmassacre, but I'm reffing this tournament." The twin beamed. "Right. Archangel vs. Lord Killasaurus. Any bets? Wade?"

"My money's on Archangel," his brother grinned.

"I'll do my best," came 'Archangel's' answer. "Ready, Killasaurus?"

"I have been ready since I was born."

Simon nodded, satisfied. "Fight!"

Ian chose a character with hair slightly reminiscent to his own, Hwoarang. Thirty seconds later, they were battling. In a fury of fists, feet, and throws, the Lord Killasaurus and Archangel were set out to defeat the other. Ian threw his fingers into `button mash' mode, and it seemed to be working. He was pulling off some of the neatest looking combos that he'd ever seen, and had no idea how he was doing them. Less than a minute later, it was all over. Danny's character was lying on the ground, defeated, while Ian's had almost three-quarters of his health bar left.

There was a stunned silence afterwards, as Ian Hunting Hawked and Screw Pirouette Kicked Danny into submission; Lord Killasaurus was rarely beaten.

"Wow," said Simon, impressed. "You kicked the crap out of him."

"Told you he was cool, y'know?"

"I admit defeat," said Lord Killasaurus.

"Dang," said Archangel, hardly believing it himself. "Oh, err... I acknowledge my worthy adversary, and praise his valiant effort."

Danny nodded graciously. "This is pleasing to me."

"Who's next?" beamed Ian.

"Me," Simon said, jumping over to take the controls. "I suck really hard, but I've got to defend longhair's honor."

"Pick a character, and let's go, Corporal," Ian said as Simon went to the character select screen.

Simon was, after a few minutes, soundly thrashed by Ian once more; shaking his head in mock-dismay, he went to sit beside his brother. Wade finally took the controls and grinned at the brunette.

"Man, you killed all of us so far."

"You don't really want to know when the last time I played a fighting game was," came Ian's reply, looking rather meek. "So, let's get this over with."

"Agreed, y'know?"

Ian and Wade faced off in a fury of electronic fists and pixilated feet for upwards of two minutes. In the end, though, Ian's character stood triumphantly over Wade's fallen hot chick. "Good game," said Ian, after the word `Winner!' flashed across the screen.

"Well, he lasted longer than I did," Simon said sadly. "The Salters lose hands down to the Michaels. It must be something in our DNA that makes us suck hard."

"Well, I'm older, and, err... I have no idea. Genes it is, then," said Ian grinning from ear to ear.

"I want those genes," sulked Danny. "Clone him."

"I think they have laws against that," Ian said, "Sorry."

"When I am president they shall be able to clone whoever they wish," Danny said gravely. "The streets will flow with the blood of the unbelievers, Ian."

"I'll remember that one, Danny. Remind me never to politically oppose you. Any chance of becoming a high-ranking party member that you won't seek to kill after the paranoia sets in?"

"Yes, but I'll probably eat you to retain my vampiric powers. Sorry."

"Is it safe for a vampire to feast upon a lycanthrope?" grinned Ian.

"Can we group and kill goblins?"

"Goblins? Hmmm... I don't see why not."

"And kobolds."

"Um, sure thing," said Ian, not really knowing what he was agreeing to. "Whomever you want to kill, as long as I don't know them."

"And Sephiroth."

"Right, people I know, and that guy. What about your brothers, though?"

"He don't wanna kill me," Wade said cheerfully. "I feed him."

"Okay, so Wade'll feed our reign of terror. He's big, too, so he can intimidate people. What about Simon?"

"Decoy," both twins said in unison.

"Wonderful, when do we start?"

"When they uncover a horde of stolen Nazi gold, apparently," Wade said, rolling his eyes.

"Wonderful," said Ian, with a sly grin. "As soon as you do that, I'm in. So, now that I've kicked your butt, what's next, Wade?"

"Back to my room and leave the hellions to their own devices?"

"Works for me," Ian said, putting the controller down, and standing back up, Ian followed Wade back up to his room, after bidding the twins goodbye.

"What d'you think of them?" Wade asked fondly, closing his bedroom door behind them. "Awful, huh?"

"Never had any brothers or sisters, myself," came his reply. "They're not too awful bad. Always wished that I'd had a younger brother when I was little."

"You can take one of mine," Wade said generously. "We got a spare."

"Eh, yours are already pre-trained. I'd want one I could guide myself, shape him in my own image, that sort of thing," Ian said with a smirk.

"You'll have to convince your parents to give you another one then, huh?"

Ian looked at Wade with a slight air of disbelief. "Wade, I'm twenty-one. If I don't have any siblings by now, I doubt I'm going to get any. Anyway, I don't even /want/ to think about my parents doing it. That's just seems so... wrong."

The blue-haired boy grinned and collapsed back on his bed. "Yeah, that's kinda what I felt when my mom started datin' again."

"Yeah, I kinda guess that would be weird. So, uh, if you don't mind me asking, how long's it been since your parents split up?"

"Since I was six." Wade put his hands behind his head. "Pretty long time."

"Yeah, it is. So, um, you want to talk about anything else?" Ian said, sitting down on a chair backwards, facing Wade. He could tell that something was bothering the blue one; he'd seen it in his face earlier that night, and during the week before. "Anything you want to get off of that chest of yours?"

The smile froze on his face. "Why d'you think there's somethin' wrong?"

"I don't know, is there?" Ian asked, slightly apprehensively. "If I'm wrong, you have the right to tell me off. Like I said before, I listen really well," he said quietly.

Wade's face fell. His relaxed posture stiffened. "M'sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't realize that - you could tell - I been trying to, y'know, be cheerful'n all, but - "

"Hey, don't worry about it. If you don't want to talk about it, you don't' have to. It helps, sometimes, if you do, though," said the Angelus with a smile.

"S'nothing," Wade said softly. "I just... lost a friend lately."

"Hurts?" Ian asked quietly. He watched as Wade nodded slowly. "It hurts, doesn't it?" Ian inwardly shuddered, remembering past events involving former teammates.

"I just... I'm still not over it, I guess." Wade closed his eyes. "Hurts like hell and... this friend was real important to me and life just doesn't seem right any more."

"Friends depart, and memory takes them, to her caverns, pure and deep. -- Teach me to forget. Wish I knew what to say, Wade... I really do..."

Wade smiled at Ian's words. "You already said things. Thanks for bein' a friend, man."

"Sure thing. You want an ear, you can borrow mine. So, happier things," he said, trying to get Wade to smile. "Puppies. Kittens. Strawberry Jam. Boxes of hamsters. Fresh laundry. Sunrises..."

"The ocean. Sun on water. Music. Smell of breaking bread," Wade put in with a grin. "The way whipped cream sounds when it comes out the canister..."

"A fresh box of cereal and a lot of milk. Mountain streams, pouring into rivers. Prayer. Grandma's cookies. Hugs from your mom. The way that, sometimes, you can look at something for hours on end, and still marvel at it's beauty, and find new things in it."

"The girls when they're happy. Bein' alive. Wakin' up on Christmas morning and listening to the twins pulling open paper."

"Thanksgiving supper, Eas..." Ian paused. "Girls?"

Wade blushed. "I have a bunch of friends who're girls," he said, almost apologetically; there was a hint of pride in his voice, though. "Gwyn, Lissie, Theresa, 'Gina, ... 'Ayya. When they're happy and safe I just feel... content."

"You've been holding out on me," Ian grinned at Wade evilly.

He went redder. "S'not like that. They tease me. I'm, like, the youngest outta 'em, except for 'Gina - oh, and Priscilla."

"Okay," said Ian. "I'll let it go at that. Next time, though, I won't be so easy on you - Spanish Inquisition; I'll bring out the comfy chair."

"Anythin' but that."

"Yes, you'll stay in the comfy chair until lunch, with only a cup of coffee at eleven."

"S'torture."

"Confess, or something."

"I confess!... what'm I confessin'?"

"I thought you knew."

"I'm just the victim here."

"What good are you, not even knowing your crime? Fine, the charge was... making a really good supper."

"M'I guilty?"

"Yes, and your sentence is you have to do it again. Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Ian laughed.

The blue-haired boy beamed. "I can do that."

"Same bat-time, same bat-channel?" asked Ian.

"You got it."

"You'll have to come over to my place at some point, you know. Got the apartment all to myself. Just me, the dog & the ferret. Make it a guy's night, or something."

“I'll cook you dinner and we can watch a movie or somethin'," Wade said, immediately perking up. "That'll be great, man. The twins're old enough to look after themselves by now."

"I was thinking more along the lines of pizza, but you cooking supper is just fine," said Ian. "The twins'll be fine. You need to get away from home life every once in awhile, anyway."

"Yeah. I can't stay at home forever."

"As much as you might want to sometimes, it's inevitable. You planning on moving out during college, or after?"

"Sometime during. When the twins learn to look after themselves just a little bit more. I think."

"I'll warn you, the dorms can be rough," chided Ian. "Some floors are really bad about drinking and stuff. Once, I was sitting in my room, watched a girl run by, wet and wrapped up in a towel. Did a double take. Then, I watched my neighbor run by, soaking wet, and in his boxers. They shut the door, and I turned the music up."

Wade raised both of his eyebrows and tried to hide his grin. "Sounds dangerous."

"Oh, quite. Sex, drugs 'n rock n' roll, my friend. The next year, I got an apartment."

"Good idea. I don' think I could live on a dorm, y'know."

"It's very hectic, you don't have a stove, full size refrigerator, and you're sharing a room with a perfect stranger. Still, I had some good times there. Though, I wouldn't give up my apartment or dog and w- ferret for anything," he said, thinking back.

"Your ferret sounds awfully cute." Wade grinned at Ian, warm and bright. "The twins wanted one when they were younger, y'know."

"Clare? Clare's an absolute sweetie. She loves riding around on my shoulder. And, watching TV when I'm gone, oddly enough. I'll introduce her to you when you come over. When do you want to do that? I've got a lacrosse game next Friday afternoon..." he said, his voice trailing off as he tried to remember his schedule.

"Sounds like Livvy. She likes me leaving the stereo on." The blue-haired boy put his hands behind his head. "Want me to come watch the game? I mean, I'd kinda... Like to. Lacrosse is neat."

Ian smiled at the boy on the bed, and said, "Sure thing. It's at 4, on the field... I'll be the one wearing a mask and carrying a big stick. Just like everyone else. If you want to, afterwards you can come over to my place, and just hang."

"That'd be cool."

"Good, I'll see you then," said Ian warmly. "Don't get an awful lot of visitors to my place, so you'll excuse it if it's bachelor messy."

"Promise." There was a little moment of silence, then; "Ian?"

"Yeah?" asked Ian, with a hint of concern in his voice.

Awkwardly, "Thank you for... y'know. Bein' friendly'n all. A friend."

"Hey..." Ian said, blushing slightly. "Well, you're welcome, I guess. Thanks for being my friend too, Wade."

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