Dislcaimer: see previous chapters

Warning: Contains some mild slash, if you don't like it, don't read it. All flames will be used to cook marshmallows with so I can make smores.

Note:I'm going to change from Spots POV to Jacks POV throughout this so don't get too confuzzled.. Italicized words indicate thought.

Apology: Yeah, I'm a big fat liar. But it's my senior year and I've got a lot of stuff to do and now that my term paper (the spawn of Satan) is done I'll actually be able to concentrate on this story again. Until my senior project comes nearer to do but I promise I'll actually start writing again.

Chapter 4

Spot

It was warm for a September day so when I pulled into the nearest BP, I put the top down on my car before I got gas. Jack grinned as the top folded in the back of the car, allowing the light breeze to ruffle his hair.

I filled the gas tank and got my wallet out. "Are you coming in?" I asked Jack as I walked towards the building.

He shrugged before answering. "Sure," got out of the car and followed me to go pay.

We both made our way to the drinks before going to pay. My eyes widened slightly when I saw that they had JOLT, this will make for an interesting trip, I thought as I grabbed a JOLT COLA out and waited for Jack to make his pick before heading for the check-out.

Jack reached into his pocket, but I slapped his had away. "I've got it, you're fine," I told him, handing the guy behind the counter my money. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "What?" I asked him as we walked out.

"I can help out now and then with money right?"

"Yeah, but there was no need to then, I had enough with the thirty dollars I gave him," I said, opening the plastic seal around the can of caffeine goodness.

"The next time we stop, I'm buying, I don't care what it -" he stopped upon hearing the 'pop' that my JOLT gave off when I opened it. He looked around before his eyes settled on the drink in my hand, it even looked like it was smoking. "What is that stuff?" He asked, looking at me strangely.

"JOLT," I answered him. "It's twice the caffeine and two times the sugar of regular soda or something like that."

He shuddered as I told him about the drink in my hand. "Can I try it?" He asked, I could tell he wanted to see for himself just what this strange stuff was.

I handed the can to him and got in the car and started it. "Holy shit," he said as he handed it back to me. "That shit is fucked,"

I just nodded at his choice in words and took another drink.

"Save some of that for later," he said as he walked by me and to the passenger side door. Needless to say I was curious as to what he had in mind that would need me to have a lot of energy.

We pulled out of the BP and drove on the turnpike until I saw the exit for New York City. It had been nearly three hours and I was starting to get a little stir crazy. "This is the part that takes forever," I told him as we went in the tunnel under the Hudson River.

Jack looked like a little kid at Christmas as we drove through Manhattan and then into Brooklyn via the Brooklyn Bridge. I don't want to brag, but when I lived here, I owned that bridge. We stopped at a Motel 8, neither one of us caring much about the luxury of a Crown Plaza Hotel, we were content with just having a free breakfast.

I parked close to the front door and the two of us made our way into the lobby, the kid at the desk looked familiar, but I couldn't put a name to his face. "We'd like a room," I said as I walked up to the desk.

He looked up and began typing at the computer. "How many nights?" he asked. I looked over at Jack who raised two fingers.

"Two," I told him, beginning to get my wallet out of my pocket before Jack hit my shoulder.

"I said I'd pay for whatever we got next," he said, gently laying a hand on my shoulder where he had hit me.

I gave him a look but let him, I decided to pay him back later, whether he wanted me to or not.

"Name?" the kid said. I looked at his bronze colored name tag and saw the name Damien. I went to school with a Damien, he was one of my old friends.

"Damien?" I asked, looking at him.

"No, that's my name," he said, looking at me like I was an idiot.

"No shit, dumbfuck," I said, giving him my trademark smirk. "I'll soak ya' if ya' look at me like dat again," I could slip back into my Brooklyn accent so easily when I wanted to.

Damien looked at me for a few seconds before I saw the realization flash across his face. "Gabe?" he asked quietly. "Is it seriously you?"

I nodded.

"Dude, what happened? You look like a girl," he said, grinning at me. I knew he was joking, but I had to look down and make sure I suddenly hadn't grown boobs.

"No I don't," I said, pouting.

"Man, you're wearing eyeliner and you're, if possible, skinnier than you were when you lived down the hall."

I glared at him, but I knew he had caught me there, I had gotten skinnier and I was wearing eyeliner. Hey, it's a habit, I cheer for Christ sakes. "Can we just get the room?" I asked, trying to steer him away from the subject of me.

Jack, in the meantime, seemed to think this was all quite funny and decides at this time to humiliate me. "You know," Jack said to Damien. "He's a cheerleader now." That's it, he's definitely not getting any!

"No shit?" Damien asked. "You're a cross-dresser too?"
"Remind me to cut your dick off later," I told Jack. "No, I don't wear a skirt, I get to wear pants," I muttered, glaring daggers into Jack's back.

Damien laughed. "So, who's name am I putting this under?"

"Mine," Jack said. "Sullivan, Francis Sullivan," he told him sliding his credit card towards Damien. He's lucky, I'm not old enough to get a credit card yet. I don't turn 18 for another three weeks. Actually, my birthday is the same day as our Homecoming game.

Damien nodded, typing something on the computer again and handed Jack his credit card back a few minutes later. "Here you go. And this is the key to your room. Unfortunately, the only room we have available right only has one King sized bed. Is that okay?"

We both shrugged nonchalantly and Jack took the key from Damien before we both headed off to our room. I waved at him and nodded, following Jack to our room.

Once we were far enough away from the front desk I turned to Jack. "Do you think he did it on purpose? Giving us a room with only one bed? I don't believe the bullshit about only having one room available," I said as we arrived at our room.

"You're paranoid," he told me, tossing his bag on the table in our room. I set mine next to his and looked at him.

"I am not."

"Are too," he said, slowly making his way towards me. I didn't bother to back away, I didn't feel like playing hard to get, I was already hard enough.

"Maybe I am," I whispered. Jack was now no more than a few centimeters in front of me, our noses almost touching. He grinned at me and picked me up and threw me on the bed. And when I said threw, I mean it I had just been man handled by Jack. Not that I'm complaining.

Jack

Spot was lying on the bed, flat on his back and he had never looked more delicious than right now. He got up onto his elbows and raised one hand in a 'come hither' motion. I obeyed immediately, not wanting my sexy boyfriend to wait any longer than necessary.

I climbed onto the bed next to him and stretched out on my side so I was facing him. "I don't care if you are a cross-dresser, you're hot," I said, wondering what he would say in retaliation.

"Oh, yeah," he said. "Guess what."

"What?" I asked. He just shook his head and leaned in closer to my ear.

"You're not getting any," he whispered, gently taking my earlobe between his teeth.

"What?" I asked again, my eyes wide. He didn't just say what I think he just said. Did he?

"You heard me," he said, getting up off the bed. "I would have forgiven you for telling Damien about me being a cheerleader, but you called me a cross-dresser. That can not be forgiven so easily," he said, looking at himself in the mirror and frowning.

He grabbed his bag and pulled out a pencil, I found this quite odd until I realized that it was eyeliner and not an actual writing pencil. He stopped and looked at himself again and sighed.

I got up and walked over to him. "You look fine," I told him, rubbing his shoulders.

He just shook his head and ran his hand through his two-toned hair. "Yeah, right," he said, leaning back into me.

"You do," I reassured him. "You look great." He just looked into our reflection, I could tell he was looking at himself then to me and back again.

"No," he said, leaning back into my arms. "You do. But I still look like a twelve year old girl."

I tried hard not to laugh at the absurdity of that statement, but failed miserably. "Don't make me feel like a pedophile, please," I told him, hugging him tighter to me. "You're a sexy, seventeen year old guy."

He smiled and turned around so he could look me in the eye. He tilted his head up and wrapped his arms around my neck. "Am I really sexy?" he asked shyly, tensing in my grip until I assured him that he was indeed sexy.

"Well," I said, kissing him on the top of his two-toned head. "Are you going to show me around New York City or not?" I asked, breaking through the sexual tension that had fallen over us in the last five minutes. He nodded, grabbed the room key, his wallet and my hand before heading towards the door. As soon as we had entered the lobby he let go of my hand, much to my dismay. "What was that for?" I asked him as soon as we had gotten out onto the street.

"I didn't want to get jumped," he told me, eyes searching for something on the road signs. "My friends are kind of homophobic."

We walked down the street for a while, getting pushed around by a few thousand people before Spot stopped and turned down a narrower, less crowded street, for which I was thankful of. I was born in New York and live there now but it's so much less crowded where I live that going to the biggest city in this part of the United States is a little shock to my system.

He stopped after going down past a few buildings, stopping in front of a large apartment complex. "This is where I used to live then my dad got a better job so we moved next door to you and I've been there, invisible, for the past four years," he said, gesturing towards the building.

"You weren't invisible," I told him, putting a hand on his shoulder before remembering that his friends wouldn't like it and removed it.

"Well, no. I guess you're right. You can't beat the living fuck out of someone whom you can't see," he said scathingly.

I flinched. I had never taken part when some of my friends would beat up the "freaks" as they called the people they weren't friends with. I remembered back in eighth grade when he moved here, they actually gave him a bloody nose and broke a few of his fingers and a rib. They really did a number on him. They had also not been suspended, just given a weeks detention.

I could tell that Spot was thinking about the same thing as me because his hand, the one they broke fingers on, went to his chest and traced the rib that had been broken. "I'm sorry about what they did to you," I told him, trying to offer comfort without touching him.

"It's not your fault," he said vacantly. "It's mine."

I looked directly into his eyes after tilting his face up so that he was forced to look at me. "It's NOT your fault. I repeat, not your fault."

He laughed and his eyes turned cold. The look on his face scared me, there was no warmth in his eyes, and his laugh sounded hollow. It was not a look I wanted to see ever again. "I'll never let that happen again. Do you hear me? You're safe with me."

"Until they make you choose," Spot said, but his expression softened slightly and he leaned into my touch. I hoped to God that he was wrong and that no one would have to make me choose between him and anything else.

Okay, this chapter is going to be split up into two parts, the other should be up within the next week. Key word: should. But I'll try my hardest to get the second half up AQAP.