No-one Messes With My Peter!

by Toby Johnston

Chapter 2

Truth and Daring

Peter turned. Eyes opening wide, locking eyes with me. I saw his tears welling up again. I pulled him in close as he buried his head back in my shoulder and started crying again.

I guess I sort of threw Coach Buell for a loop with that confession. He looked at me for a few seconds and then dismissed us. Telling us to go right to the bus, no showers, we'd just call it a day. I sat right up front with Peter, holding his hand tightly in mine. He was still just staring straight ahead, kind of catatonic. Alex sat right behind us; kind of awkwardly keeping his arm around Peter's shoulder. I quietly texted my mom with my free hand >>911 I have to spend night w/Peter!<<. Coach Buell was across the aisle, on his cell phone the whole time, talking quietly, but he kept looking over at us.

We pulled into the circle back at school. I could see the parents' cars lined up for pick up, but the parents were all gathered in a small cluster over by the steps. Our Headmaster, Mr. Winchell, was standing one step up, talking to them. He looked very serious. Some of the parents were turning their heads and watching our bus as it pulled in. Shit! This wasn't good. Peter was right; everyone was going to know. I held him tighter and whispered "I love you" in his ear—I didn't know what else to say.

Coach Buell stood up and told us all that Mr. Winchell wanted to talk to all of us before we went home with our parents. He had us congregate in the breezeway between main building and woodshop—it was one of my favorite parts of our school. From there, you could look out past the old farmhouse that was our cafeteria and beyond that to the athletic fields.

Eventually Mr. Winchell came over with Mr. Buell, he talked to us again about what had happened. It was kind of the same talk the coaches had given us, but different, I don't know, it sounded better coming from Mr. Winchell. He just said it better—and it seemed more comforting. He even brought up our school motto—Sua Sponte. That's Latin for 'Of his Own Accord'. Before this, he'd always talked about it in terms of 'owning our own education'—that the teachers were there to teach, but we also had to be there to learn. Now he was putting a whole new spin on it—more like a life lesson in owning our path. It kind of made sense.

Then he cut us all loose, but came over to Peter, knelt down and put his hand on his shoulder. He asked Alex and I to step back. He can be kind of scary, but he wasn't now, all of a sudden he reminded me of my grandfather—like comforting. He spoke quietly to Peter for a while. I could see Peter nodding at what he was saying, but I could tell he was sniffling a little too. That started me crying too. I really tried not to, but I just felt so bad for him, and the tears just started flowing. Now Alex was hugging me tightly. I hugged him back just as hard—wondering why I hadn't realized he was such a good friend before this.

Finally, Mr. Winchell stood up and put his arm around Peter's shoulder and walked him over to his mom. My mom was there too. His mom gave him a huge hug and spoke quietly to him then told him to get in the car. She looked at me too, and nodded, so I gave mom a quick hug and hopped in, sliding over to hold Peter in my arms. Alex leaned in and gave us both a last hug and then he jogged off to his dad's car. I didn't know what to say, so I just kissed him lightly on the cheek and whispered again that I loved him and that everything would be okay. He gave me a weak smile and leaned into me, resting his head on my shoulder. I guess that was an improvement, maybe.

I still held his hand tightly, rubbing my fingers back and forth on the back of his hand to comfort him. Our moms talked for a little bit and then my mom said goodbye and Peter's mom got in and we drove off. Peter's was a second home for me, so I knew to kick off my muddy cleats before we even got inside. Then I knelt down and helped Peter with his as well. God his feet are so cute and adorable, just like every other inch of him!

Mrs. Benedict started bustling about the kitchen as soon as we got inside. I could see her pulling out ingredients for Spaghetti Bolognese—one of her signature dishes and one of our favorites. She might be Mrs. Benedict now; but she born Silvia Antonelli in Boston's North End—she knew her Italian food! My mouth started watering; especially knowing that she'd also be making her garlic bread—yummmmm!

She ordered us to go upstairs and shower—it might have been because we were both still hot, sweaty, and dirty from the game. As we found out later, it might have also been so she could think through 'her talk' that we got—seriously embarrassing!

I led Peter upstairs to his room and closed the door. Finally, we were alone—in our own little Peter-Michael cocoon. No adults. No teammates staring at us. He was still just kind of standing there; not really talking or anything. I wasn't sure what to do next, so I just hugged him and started blathering. Trying to say anything that I thought would make it better—even if I wasn't so sure about the future myself! I think I said stuff like this wasn't the end of the world. So what if he's gay, I am too. He's still Peter. Soccer superstar and goal scorer. Straight A student and math genius—thank God one of us was! Trombone player, hockey player, lacrosse player—Ethan Allen was all about the Scholar-Athlete.

I thought what I was saying would help, but it didn't seem to. He started shaking his head, he was still talking through his tears, but I could make out, "I'm so sorry, Michael. I fucked up so bad. I've ruined us!"

"No, no, no. What are you talking about. You haven't ruined anything, Peter."

"But I have. I have. I did everything with those boys that they talked about. And I liked it. I wanted to do it. I'm dirty and disgusting!"

Okay, I really wanted to know exactly what they had done together. I was certain it was nowhere near dirty and disgusting; unless everything I wanted to do with Peter was equally dirty and disgusting! But I knew better than to go there—way too soon for that, if ever.

My mind swirled trying to think of a come-back to that one, "Listen Peter. How long have we been best friends?"

"Ten years"

"Ten years. That's like 3,650 days."

He giggled, "3,652 actually. There are two leap years in there."

"Okay 3,652 days, times 24 hours in a day. That's something like 75,000 hours."

"A lot more, that's 87,648 hours."

"Thanks, Mr. Idiot Savant. Eighty-seven thousand whatever. Okay, and for how many hours were you doing your dirty, disgusting stuff with those boys?"

Peter thought for a second, "Two hours maybe"

"Okay. Two maybe not so smart hours, two maybe way too horny hours, against eighty-seven thousand whatever hours. Don't you think that's kinda lopsided?"

I got him to smile. He actually smiled. My favorite 'Peter and those beautiful, soulful, brown eyes' smile. I pressed my point home, "I fucked up too, you know."

The smile stayed; I knew I had won him back, "So you fooled around with some boys too?"

I laughed, "I wish. I wasn't clever enough to set that up. But I did fuck-up. I wasn't brave enough. I wasn't trusting enough to tell my life-long, best friend that I was gay."

"It's not like I was brave enough either. I guess we both messed that one up."

"Okay, so maybe we both should trust each other more. I was just so scared. I love you so much and I was terrified I might lose you."

He nodded, "Me too. I guess neither of us was being very brave, or trusting. But Michael, are you really sure you're gay? I mean you haven't actually done anything with another boy right?"

"I haven't done anything with a real boy, but I am absolutely, one hundred percent sure I'm gay. Boys are all that excite me. Boys are all that I think about, that I fantasize about—especially this boy!" I emphasized, squeezing him tight.

"Not any others?" he challenged me playfully.

"Honest? Lots of others. I think about some of our classmates. I scope out cute boys when I see them—especially in our team showers."

I saw a flash of realization cross his face, "So you were checking out Hunter last week!"

I nodded, "I was. He's seriously cute, right? I was scared when I thought you'd caught me."

"I thought you were staring at him, but then I talked myself out of it, since I couldn't begin to believe you'd be gay."

I figured it was time to man up. To really trust Peter. To really trust us. I pulled back just a little so I could look him in the eyes, and just blurted it all out in one continuous stream, afraid if I paused that I'd chicken out, "I love that's wrong...I'm in love with you...I have been for a long time...and I am gay I want you as more than a best're all I ever wanted...I want to hold kiss make love with you...I want to go to school and college with you...I want us to spend the rest of our lives together...I want to grow old with you."

I gasped for air. Peter giggled, "Fortunately I speak 'Michael'. I know where to insert the spaces in between your words. I'm pretty sure you want to kiss me." Then he darted in and gave me the softest, most wonderful, most stomach fluttering kiss I'd ever had. Okay, I guess it was the only boy kiss I'd ever had, but still it was all those other things.

We pulled back and he gave me the most beautiful smile, "A kiss like that?"

I tried to stop panting—and yes, I was hard as a rock by now, and I could tell that Peter was too, "Well, I was thinking more like this…" And I slipped my hand up behind his head and pulled him towards me ever so slowly; opening my mouth and positioning my tongue right at the edge so he'd know what I wanted.

I tilted my head; Peter tilted the other way. Our eyes were wide open, locked together. I could feel his lips coming soooo close. His warm breath competing with mine. And then they touched. Lips to lips. A soft kiss. A tender kiss. An 'I love you' kiss. Our tongues sliding past each other, touching, caressing. In my mind, I was funneling all of my love and years of desire into him; and I could tell he was doing the same.

I've no idea how long we kissed. I was completely lost in the moment. The world could have ended, and I would have been a deliriously happy boy. Eventually, we both pulled back. Our eyes still locked together. Panting, grinning from ear to ear. I saw a hunger in Peter's eyes that I'm sure was reflected in mine! Then we dove back in again. More urgent this time, as if we were trying to express the pent-up years of hidden love and desire all in one kiss.

Peter had obviously done some space inserting by the time we broke this kiss. "I'm in love with you too, Michael. All I've ever wanted is you. And yes, I want to grow old with you too!"

"Does that mean we're engaged?"

Peter giggled, "Yes. But we should probably keep it between ourselves for now. Not sure our parents would approve of our being engaged at thirteen!"

"Yeah, that would trigger way too many 'we need to sit down and talk' sessions! I can wait on formally announcing—but we are going to go to the same Prep School next year. I can't be away from you."

Peter hugged me tighter, once again kind of melting into me, "Me neither." We just stood there for a while. I buried my face in his sweaty neck and just inhaled him; reveling in his special scent that I'd caught snatches of as we'd grown up together, but now I knew he was going to be mine to enjoy every day.

I could feel his arms wrapping around my back, his hands softly roaming up and down my spine. I gave a little moan of approval as I reached around and pulled him tightly against me. I feel his rock-hard shaft press up against mine, pulsing against me. I knew mine must have felt the same pressing up against him.

I reached out and started pulling his black and green jersey up over his head. He raised his arms, and my eyes feasted on his beautiful tight stomach and chest as they slowly came into sight. His shorts were next, my fingers slipped into the waistband of his soccer shorts, and I slowly pushed them down over his nonexistent hips. Once over his butt, then they dropped down along his coltish legs and hit the floor. I stopped there, pulling him back against me wearing nothing but his jock strap—a fantasy I'd played over in my mind time and time again.

He shivered after a few seconds and whispered, "Are you going take off my jock?"

I shook my head in his neck, "Nope. I've fantasized about holding you this way ever since I first saw you wearing one in the locker room. It's like they made these straps to frame your adorable little butt."

"Well let's complete the fantasy then." He quickly stripped off my jersey and shorts, then grabbed my hand and pulled us over to his closet. There, he opened the door all the way, revealing the full-length mirror, then he moved back to me, pulling us back together. Two almost-naked, only jock-clad boys, half-facing towards the mirror. I didn't think I could get any harder; but I did!

What a sight—me and my Peter. Two lean soccer players. Mid-way through their growth spurts. Leaning into each other with a relaxed comfort of having known each other almost all their lives. Equally clearly, very excited as the two jock-clad mounds attested. I watched in the mirror as I traced my hands down his back, following the edge of the two straps down along his dimpled butt.

I squeezed. Hard. He moaned and thrust into me. I started shaking—like my whole body was so overwhelmed that it couldn't handle the excitement.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, I could hear the concern in his voice. "We can stop if you want."

I turned my eyes from the mirror to him, looking at him with fierce determination, "There is no way in hell I'm stopping anything. I don't care if your mom comes in the door! I'm just excited, that's all."

His smile grew wider, which I love, 'cause it makes his dimples really stand out and makes him look even cuter if that's possible. Then his smile turned into a wicked grin, "Okay then, you asked for it!" And with that, he ground hard into me.

I moaned, probably too loudly, as I felt his hard-on pressing urgently against mine. I instinctively thrust back, equally, if not harder. No more talking at that point, at least not coherently. There was a lot of moaning, a lot of whimpering, some giggling, a ton of panting. Our hands were all over each other.

I was trying to touch him everywhere at once, failing miserably of course, but with no loss of enthusiasm. I know we weren't 'having sex', but in my mind, we were absolutely making love. With every touch, every moan, every thrust, I was trying to channel my total love and desire from my body to Peter's; and I promise you he knew it!

No surprise, we were heading towards the obvious ending—you could hear it, feel it, sense it. I thought I was a bit away from 'the moment', but when Peter sank his fingernails into my butt, I lost it. That little bit of pain shot right through me, and I started shaking, spasming, arching into him. He held onto me tightly—which probably saved me from falling over! I could feel my cum spurting out into my jock and trickling down past my balls.

As I was gasping for breath, Peter gave his final, urgent thrusts against my spent but still rock-hard cock. Oh my God, how amazing it was to hold him in my arms as he came, with a lot of squealing and whimpering! It felt like I was coming all over again—obviously the most intimate thing I had ever done in my life—and it was with my Peter!

Senses were flooding in from all over. I was surprised that I could feel his cum seeping through my own jock, but I remembered that the pouches are kind of a mesh material. "Your cum is on me, it oozed through my jock," I whispered.

His face still buried in my neck, I could feel him nodding, "I felt yours too, that's what made me cum!"

We both sort of collapsed into each other for a while, just enjoying the post-cum euphoria. I felt his heart pounding against mine; our chests heaving together. I was so deliriously happy; I just kept grinning into Peter's neck.

Finally, he shifted a little, "We should get in the shower like Mom told us to. Now we smell like sex, on top of sweaty soccer player!"

"Ummm. I love smelling like sex with you," I whispered, hugging him tighter, "But okay, I guess I could jump in the shower with you!"

His ensuite bathroom was a real plus—no running out into the hallway. There was no sex in the shower, not this time anyway, but there was a whole lot of touching. We washed each other's hair, then bodies. I guess it was more sensual than sexual—though we were hard as rocks the whole time! We intimately explored each other as we washed—everywhere!

Happily naked, we walked back into Peter's room to change—that's when I realized I really had nothing to change into. My soccer kit was dirty and sweaty; my school clothes were not much better. I kind of stood there contemplating a bad and a worse choice when a pair of boxer briefs hit me in the face!

I managed to catch them as they dropped, and grinned, "Your favorite pair?"

"Yup. I want you to wear them. And keep them."

"Ahh, how sweet. My first present from my boyfriend, or my fiancé I guess."

Peter grinned, "More like I'm marking my territory, but sure, you can call it a gift!"

"Marking your territory?!" I challenged, "Maybe I'll have to give you a hickey then!"

Peter pursed his lips for a moment, "Hmmm. I might like that idea! Where are you thinking?"

Okay, I wasn't ready for that question! I had to think quickly, "Well…it'd have to be kind of hidden, wouldn't it? I'm not sure Ethan Allen is ready for a gay hickey on your neck!"

"Yeah, you might be right. We'll have to figure out the best place!" as he turned and threw shorts and a t-shirt at me.

I liked the idea of being his territory, and happily slipped into his boxer-briefs, sweat shorts and t-shirt. Peter clones, we then thundered down stairs just like always and burst into the kitchen—which by now was a mix of wonderful smells—spaghetti, Bolognese, and Mrs. Benedict's garlic bread. She uses French bread instead of Italian, it's really crunchy, tons of butter, and lots of garlic—oh my God, it melts in your mouth!

She was all smiles as we entered the kitchen, looking at Peter, "You seem to have bounced back nicely! What turned your whole outlook around?"

Peter gave her a big hug, which was good, 'cause I just turned bright red and silently hemmed and hawed. "I love you, mom. Yeah, I'm better. I have a boyfriend…no, a fiancé, we're gonna get married!" I rolled my eyes, so much for us keeping it secret!

"A fiancé? Married? This weekend. I have plans!"

"Silly mom! Not this weekend. After college, or maybe high school. You've got time!"

She turned to me and held out her arms. I didn't hug her very often, but it was nice—after all, she was my second mom. "I will be very proud and happy to have you as my son-in-law, Michael! I assumed you boys would figure each other out at some point—I'm glad you finally did! Now, do you want to talk now or after dinner?"

"After dinner please Mrs. Benedict. I don't think I could talk during dinner."

She took pity on us, or at least me anyway, and served up my favorite meal. How we made small talk during that meal, I'll never know, but we did. It was pretty weird. One moment we're talking about school and soccer; the next I'm thinking about us and her, and whatever this talk is going to be!

She didn't let us off the hook. We had to clean up after dinner—she's big on sharing responsibilities. Then we went into the family room and sat down. She did say it was fine if we wanted to hold hands or cuddle—yea! So, we did. Hold hands anyway; I wasn't ready to cuddle in front of her!

She did talk to us about what happened. She wanted to know everything, and we pretty much told her—though I think Peter held back a little on what the stuff was with those other boys. She did talk to us a lot about relationships, that part wasn't so bad. I got really embarrassed when she started in on safe sex though. I got the impression that she was very happy for us; but concerned like any mom would be. She did say that she thought we were both very obviously in love!

All in all, as 'parental talks' go, I guess this one wasn't too bad. When she was finished, we all watched a movie for a bit and then she went up to bed. That's when Peter shifted, and we did cuddle! He moved around and lay against the back of the couch on his side, motioning me to lay on my back in front of him. As soon as I stretched out, he snuggled against me and put his head on my chest.

We really did watch the movie for a while longer. I really liked having Peter cuddled up tightly against me. I liked having my arm wrapped around him. I liked holding Peter and keeping him safe. His hand was kind of gently roaming my torso as we lay there—like our shower, it seemed more sensual than sexual. Until he hit my nipple—I gasped; it went instantly hard! Who knew nipples were so sensitive—that had never happened when I touched them.

He instantly picked up on my reaction and started rubbing circles through the shirt. I was squirming and softly moaning it felt so good. I vaguely felt his hand move down; then snake its way up under my shirt—so lightly grazing across my fluttering stomach as he sought out his target. Through the shirt felt awesome; skin on skin was amazing! Peter flicked, rubbed, pinched, tugged—trying all different ways to get a response from me. Like he'd found a new toy and was trying to understand how it worked.

He didn't let up, his fingers dancing left and right across my chest—sending shudders all through my body! Peter pushed my shirt up my chest and I helped him strip it off over my head. His head went left and his fingers went right. I was twisting under him, trying to be so quiet and not being very successful!

Finally, he moved up and whispered in my ear; okay, sort of whispered, his tongue was flicking in my ear the whole time. "Let's go upstairs. You are being way too noisy."

I nodded and bolted up off the couch, reaching out to help him up. Of course, my crotch was right in his face as he sat up. He giggled and poked the obscene bulge in my sweat shorts, "Excited much?

I just grinned and pulled him up; where his equally prominent bulge pressed up against mine, "Almost as much as you!"

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine, fixing me with those big brown eyes, "I love you Michael, so much. I want you. Now!"

I grinned, "I love you too!" Then grabbed his hand and half led him, half dragged him upstairs; remembering at the last minute to grab the bedroom door handle so it didn't slam shut. Our clothes didn't make it to the bedside, left in a trail across the room. I pushed him back onto the bed and climbed in beside him, then I stopped.

Kneeling at his side, I just looked down at the most beautiful naked boy I'd ever beheld. His silky brown hair kind of all messed up. His eyes sparkling and wide. His smile slightly parted as he panted with excitement. His lean chest rising and falling; just like his stomach—which was just so sexy with that groove that ran all the way down the middle.

Umm, and yeah, there was his rock-hard cock. I drank in every little detail. It proudly arched up and off his lower abs. So hard and excited, it was pulsing up and down with his heartbeat. I ran my finger lightly up his shaft—it was so velvety soft. And hot. I mean seriously, like on fire hot to my touch. Mine never felt that hot no matter how excited I was!

I ran my finger left and right just under the rim of his head. Smiling as I heard his stifled gasps and moans. His dark head already glistening with pre-cum. From there, his lean muscled legs extended down the bed, his knees slightly bent, and ending in those cute little feet.

I guess I kind of lost myself in admiring him—my eyes sweeping up and down his body. Each time noting some new, wonderful, beautiful, little detail. I was almost afraid to reach out and touch him; fearing if I did he would disappear and it would all be a dream.

"What are you doing?" he whispered—as if it were inappropriate to speak too loudly.

"I'm looking at you," I whispered back, "This is the first time I've really seen you naked."

"You've seen me naked before," he smiled quizzically.

"Well yeah. In the gym, at our houses, the pool. But those were always fleeting glances. Flicking my eyes over quickly before I got caught. I've never gotten to 'really look' at you naked."

He smiled, the most innocent happy smile, for a naked boy with a boner! "I think you're gonna get a lot of chances to really look at me naked from here on."

"I hope so. I want to look at you every day for the rest of our lives and still be as blown away as this first time!"

He reached his arms out, "Enough looking. Come 'ere."

I shifted over and lay down on top of him, propping myself up with my elbows. Our cocks slid in next to each other. He wrapped his legs back in around me. We kissed. Softly at first—delicate, little 'I love you' kisses. Then more urgent, 'I need to have you' kisses.

Boys did what boys do as we kissed. Our bodies instinctively moved against each other. First slowly. Sensing new feelings. Teasing. Building. Then, like our kisses, harder. Faster. Passionate. Both of us whimpering in each other's mouths. There was no thought of slowing things down. I came first; Peter maybe two shots behind me. We both bucked our way through our climaxes. I loved lying on top of him; holding him in my arms as he came—feeling him arching, spasming, shuddering.

As the amazing feelings subsided, a whole other set of firsts flooded my brain. Our hearts were beating in synch. One of us inhaling while the other exhaled—like we were trading breaths. I was acutely aware that I was cold—now aware of the cool air hitting my sweaty body. I shivered.

I could feel Peter doing something with his legs. Then his arms. He'd managed to get the edge of the comforter and pulled it up over us. We snuggled into our own little cocoon. There was still a boy-mess in between us, but neither of us seemed to mind. We kissed and whispered for a while; then the yawns set in.

I shifted off Peter onto my side. He rolled and scooted back into me, "Will you spoon me? I want you to hold me."

Of course, I'd like nothing more. I melded myself into his back, my not-soft cock tucked in between his cheeks. He pulled my arm in tight against his chest and sighed, "I like this. You make me feel safe."

My heart swooned at that, "I'll always protect you, Peter."

He squeezed my arm, "What were you going to do to those B&F boys?"

I chuckled, "I have no idea. But I was going to make them pay for what they did to you! I guess it's a good thing Mr. Buell stopped me; otherwise I'd be spending the night in juvie!"

"And fighting off some hulking kid named Bubba instead of snuggling with me!" he giggled, "I appreciate your trying to defend me; but I'm glad you're here with me instead of in juvie."

I started to answer, or at least I think I did. Somewhere in there we both fell asleep. I stirred a little bit during the night, cuddling back into Peter each time. I loved burying my nose in the crook of his neck, inhaling that incredibly intoxicating, wonderful scent that is Peter— a little bit of Baby Powder, slightly sweaty, all boy. I'd smelled him before, like sometimes when we were fooling around and wrestling. But now he was mine—to hug; to hold; to protect.

It was late morning when I finally stirred. I opened my eyes and looked right up at Peter, propped up on his arm, looking down at me. I grinned, then giggled, "You watching me?"

"Just admiring my knight in shining armor."

"Does that make you my prince? And I'm your champion?"

He nodded, suddenly looking more serious, "I like having you as my boyfriend and champion. I think we're going to need to be each other's champions."

I raised an eyebrow, "How so?"

He took a deep breath, "Have you thought about what school's going to be like on Monday? It'll be the first day we're in school and everyone knows we're gay."

I furrowed my brow, "I guess I hadn't thought that far ahead." I grinned, "I've been too caught up just trying to handle the last fourteen hours when my best friend became my boyfriend!"

"Well you know me, I always think ahead and worry. It's what I do. You always just shrug your shoulders and go with the moment."

"Yeah. Not sure if that's a better way to do it or not. But maybe we're a great team because we're different like that." I pushed myself up to a sitting position, "Okay. Let's think about this—what will happen on Monday? We'll walk to school, same as always—oh wait, no we won't. We need to bring our three posterboards for Mr. Buell's class, so we'll drive to school."

Peter threw his hands up dramatically, "See? Things are already different!"

"Calm down my prince," I laughed, "So everyone will know we're gay—so what? Alex and the soccer team knew Friday. He was fine with it. I think most of the team was too. That's a good chunk of the 8th graders and the cooler 7th graders—heavy social influence."

"Okay yeah, but what about the others?"

I just shrugged my shoulders, "What about the others? I think most guys won't care one way or the other. Some will be relieved that you and I aren't competition for the ladies. Will there be some that avoid us, or say stuff, or are assholes? Probably. But those guys were assholes already, like Fullman."

"So, you think we just go right in like nothing's different?"

"Yep! Be bold. Be proud. We're both still Peter and Michael. Soon to be graduating seniors. Scholar-athletes par excellence. Triple lettermen—soccer, hockey, and lacrosse. A-students, more or less. People will be looking at us sure—trying to see if we have Gay tattooed on our foreheads—which we don't. This will be big news until the next drama arises—then we're yesterday's headlines."

"I guess there's no other way. Not like we can roll back to last week when no one knew."

"I wouldn't want to! Sure, last week no one knew; but that included me and you. Last week I thought I'd lose you as my best friend if you found out I was gay, and you thought the same thing. I'm still mad about those assholes at the soccer game, but I'm thinking you and I are one helluva silver lining!"

Peter smiled, reaching over and tracing along my jawline, pausing when he got to my dimpled chin, "I always wanted a dimpled chin like yours. I thought it made you look so determined. The day we first met, I went home and squeezed my chin together and held it, trying to make mine look like yours!"

"I'm guessing that didn't work," I smirked, reaching up and stroking Peter's sharp, pointed chin.

"Nope, I was so disappointed. Then I tried a pen cap. I leaned my chin on it for a whole hour. That lasted longer, but hurt too much! I kind of gave up after that."

"Well now you got a determined, dimple-chinned boyfriend! Am I nervous about Monday—yes. But I've got my best friend—boyfriend. We've got Alex and some key others. It'll be okay. I know it!"

"Have I mentioned this morning that I love you?"

"Not yet, I was beginning to wonder!" I leaned in, "C'mere and give me a kiss!"

Peter pulled back, "Wait! I haven't brushed. Dragon breath!"

I slipped my hand around his neck and pulled him in, "I don't care. Kiss me!"

So, he did! My mouth was kinda dry, but it was still really nice. Then my stomach growled—signaling the end of the serious discussion, and the end of cuddles—for now. We scampered into the bathroom to shower and brush our teeth—fun soaping everywhere and lots of minty kisses!

Once again, I was shopping at the 'Peter Boutique' for my clothes. There's something really nice about wearing your boyfriend's clothes. It's like he's hugging you all day. And you kind of get to look like him; especially when it's us 'cause we kind of look like each other to begin with.

His mom wasn't up yet, so we slipped quietly downstairs and started getting breakfast ready. Well Peter did, he actually knows how to cook some stuff. I was the sous-chef. We got coffee going. I did a package of Pop-Tarts in the toaster—to tide us over until real food was ready!

Peter got the bacon going on the skillet, then started making batter for waffles while directing me on cracking eggs to make scrambled eggs. I only had to fish a few shells out of the goop. Pretty soon, wonderful smells were permeating the air. That got his mom up and we greeted her with a cup of coffee as she came into the kitchen—service with a smile!

She put the finishing touches on the breakfast while Peter and I set the table. Then it was game on, devour at will, eat until you're stuffed! I had waffles with syrup—real Vermont maple syrup of course, then waffles with strawberry jam, then bacon and eggs. Mrs. Benedict just watched in amazement and muttered something about going shopping—we just grinned and continued wolfing down breakfast. I did slide my foot over under the table and gently caressed Peter's while we ate; not trying to get him excited or anything, I just needed to touch him. I saw his eyebrow shoot up, then he smiled and kept eating.

After clean-up, Peter and I settled in the family room where I looked at my cell phone for the first time since before yesterday's game—a shit-ton of texts, uh-oh. I scanned who they were from, checking a few from Alex first. Okay, more than a few, clearly he was worried—guess I should have checked earlier. I texted him back right away, letting him know all was good, that Peter was fine.

The three dots came back right away, so we chatted back and forth—yes, I had spent the night; yes, I was still there; yes, we'd slept in the same bed; no, I wasn't going to share any details over text…but I did throw in devil and eggplant emojis just to tease him; yes, we are officially boyfriends; thanks, for the congrats. Then he asked if Peter and I wanted to hit the movies with he and some of the gang this afternoon. I told him I'd have to check in with my mom and Peter's—but hopefully yes.

Peter went off to talk to his mom while I called mine. I thanked mom profusely for letting me go with Peter yesterday, explaining that it had taken a while, but he was doing a lot better now. I was deliberately playing up the dual angle of 'concern over Peter and her motherly wisdom'. Then I hit her with the big ask—could we go to the movies and then Peter come to our house for the night?

Surprisingly, she didn't say no right away. She asked a bunch of questions and then deferred, saying she'd have to talk to Peter's mom. Shocker, Peter came back with basically the same response from his mom. So we made ourselves scarce, retreating to the family room to be good boys and start our homework—which we'd have to get done anyway if there was any hope of the movies and a back to back sleepover.

I went back to the flood of texts first—since I had only answered Alex back. Most of them were fine.

Some supportive: >>Heard you and Peter are an item—cool!<< Me: >>Thanks

Some disbelieving: >>Dude are you really gay?!<< Me: >>Yep<<

Some joking (maybe): >>Can I get a blow job?<< Me: >>Only if we're trading!<<

There were only two that were outright homophobic—from numbers I didn't recognize of course, brave douche bags! They got blocked.

Peter had pretty much the same, including the nasty ones. Guess we'd have one or two jerks to deal with come Monday. Peter shrugged his shoulders, "I guess all in all, those aren't bad odds!"

"See, I told you it'd be okay." Please God let me be right! I did get a little smile from Peter after that, so maybe he was feeling a little more confident.

We pulled out our books, diving in on the next chapter of To Kill a Mockingbird. We were sitting on opposite ends of the couch as we buried our noses in our books. Occasionally, I'd glance up under my eyebrows and just stare at Peter. He looked so cute concentrating while he read.

Finally, he caught me, and we both got silly grins on our faces. He kind of nudged me with his sock-clad foot, "Stop looking at me. It's distracting."

I tried to put on my best pout, the smile wouldn't let me. "But I can't stop looking at you. I have to keep checking to make sure this is real!

He gave me a stern look, "Read. Otherwise, we won't be able to do a double sleepover."

I sighed; he was right. I stuck my nose back in my book and tried to focus. I did stretch my legs out alongside Peter's; my bare calf sliding along his—we both had soft hairs coming in. It felt really nice having his warm skin against mine. I wasn't trying to start anything, I just needed to stay connected. Like I wouldn't be able to breathe if I wasn't.

Eventually, the murmuring from the other room subsided. Peter's mom came in and sat down, looking serious. We both sat up and looked at her expectantly.

"Don't think that back-to-back sleepovers are going to be a normal thing," she admonished.

We both grinned—success!

She looked at me, "Your mom and dad want to talk. To both of you. Together. So, we decided that this one time, it would be a good idea. I'll drop you at the movies; she'll pick you up. But between now and then, hit the books. And Peter must be home by noon tomorrow!"

I groaned at the 'talk to both of you, together' comment. But I guess it was kind of a stretch to hope that one talk with Mrs. Benedict would be all we'd have to do. We did manage to knock out English and Math; then ran upstairs to pack up, and just a little kissing and groping while we did that!

I think we both were on edge as we headed into the movie theater—this would be our first 'post-outing' get together with the gang. I wanted to hold Peter's hand something fierce, or put my arm around his waist, or shoulders—but each of those seemed like a not good idea. We both tried to give each other smiles of encouragement—not sure it did much good. They were more like grimaces.

In the end, we didn't have to be nervous. We spied Alex right away—he towers above everyone. He waved and led a whole group of guys from school in our direction—they were all smiles and fist bumps. No talk of being gay or anything; it was almost too normal—as if it were last week, and there had been no 'soccer game incident'.

It took me a little while to figure it out, but eventually there were enough little comments from the guys that I began to put two and two together. Alex had obviously invited a select group from across the student leaders—the school president and treasurer, a couple of jocks, academics, even some of the theater guys.

I finally confronted him when the two of us went to get some snacks. He tried acting all innocent at first, but he had a totally guilty look on his face, and quickly caved.

"I figured it would be good for you and Peter to know that you had guys who would stick up for you. Who don't care if you're gay or straight; just care that you're good guys."

"So you rounded up all these guys?"

"I didn't have to. I only called a couple—they did the rest. These guys are here because they wanted to be; because they like you; not because they got asked or strong-armed."

I looked back at the guys gathered around Peter. They were all talking, laughing and goofing around. Peter looked totally relaxed. Happy. Animated.

I started to get a little emotional. I might have even teared-up, but I'd deny it. Maybe all our worry of this morning about what would happen Monday at school was totally wrong. Peter and I would have each other; obviously we'd have Alex and the guys here today. That was a pretty good start!

I looked up at Alex, "Thanks. You didn't have to do this. But you did. It really means a lot to me; and to Peter."

Alex shook his head, "Of course I had to do it. We're friends. That's what friends do. Everyone we asked came. No one even blinked an eye. There were some guys we didn't ask—we need to be a united front come Monday, and sideline those assholes."

"Sounds like you got this all planned out!"

"I do," he grinned proudly, "I figured you guys would either be too wigged out to think of it, or having too much fun now that you're boyfriends!"

"Who said we're boyfriends?!" I protested.

"You denying it?"

I was blushing so hard I couldn't have even if I wanted to, I cracked a huge grin instead, "Well, technically we're not boyfriends." I paused for dramatic effect, "I believe the proper term is fiancés!"

He laughed, then looked at me, his eyebrows shooting up, "Wait! Seriously? No shit!? You guys move fast!" Then he smirked, "So…did you do it?"

My turn to smirk, "A fiancé doesn't reveal!"

"No fair! Come on, I don't need blow by blow…unless you blew each other!"

Fortunately, our arrival at the front of the line precluded any further interrogation on Alex's part—for now. I knew it was only a delay. I guess any horny thirteen-year-old wants to know sex details; doesn't matter if they're gay or straight. I ordered a raspberry slushy and popcorn for Peter and I—we always shared.

When we rejoined the group, we made our way into the theater and took our seats. The movie All Quiet on the Western Front, was totally awesome! Peter and I did hold hands through most of the movie. Nothing else of course 'cause we were sitting with the guys—but I think even if we'd been alone, we both would have been totally absorbed by the movie!

In a gaggle, we made our way out to the parking lot—the whole time talking about our favorite parts. Only our peeling off to the waiting parents ended the boisterous replay! Peter and I threw our duffels in the back of mom's car and piled into the back seat, still fighting the battle in the trenches with the guys on the sidewalk!

Mom smiled at us in the mirror as she pulled away, "So you enjoyed the movie?"

We then treated her to a full replay, maybe not exactly in order, of the movie. She didn't seem to mind that we might be spoiling it for her—but then it's maybe not a girly movie. It was pretty violent. Mom had us put our gear up in my room right when we got home, but said she and dad wanted to have a 'serious talk' with us as soon as we were settled in—ugh!

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