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'Ingenious'

Part 1

Charlie Dalton was never a person to acknowledge the word of authority. He found that his somewhat Byronic personality was stifled continually, especially since his admittance into dear old Welton Academy, and any sort of nonconformity seemed appealing. Though Mr. Keating was enough to brighten up the dreary 'Excellence' of his school day, there was nothing to do the same for the days he was to promptly return to the Dalton Estate in Connecticut. If there was ever a human on this earth who could strike fear into Charlie's heart without holding a paddle in their hand, it was most certainly Mrs. Lily Dalton- his darling mother. Gentile and lovely as Lily was, her son the spitting image, this banker's wife's hand was one of iron and gloved in velvet. This velvet was removed only around her husband, and her son, who had felt the sting of flesh across his face before. Sometimes for Charlie, it hurt worse than a paddle. But, for some reason, it was only when he refused to practice his clarinet. This was the woman who, after quite a few calls and one silently hostile meeting, convinced Headmaster Nolan to allow Charlie's return to Welton, providing he kept his nose clean. Charlie himself would have been more pleased to return to an iron maiden after miraculously escaping, but he did not dare to tell his mother this; Mrs. Dalton was not a lady to be trifled with.

When Charlie made his way up the aged bricks of the Estate's walkway, Charlie stared out over the landscape of grass and noticed the ancient and crooked tree silhouetted against the grey sky. It was the type of dreary day one can only understand if one has lived in or visited New England. The moisture from the oncoming rain could be felt around Charlie's neck, even with the thick wool muffler his grandmother had sent over from England last winter, and he shivered. Where was Neil? He was supposed to be with him for this week of holiday- they had planned it out at school. They stayed behind after a meeting- the mere thought of it hurt like a twisting fork in the chest- and it was arranged then. Neil would have come out to Connecticut, stayed for a week, and then Charlie would have gone back to Delaware to stay with Neil's family until school started up again. Though Neil's family was never an endearing prospect, Neil was the reason Charlie kept visiting, not because it was convenient travel-wise. He closed his eyes for a moment and continued up the path to the front door. The elegant white home stood ominously above him, and the black door was less of a welcome than it had been in years previous. There was no snow to greet him yet, which would always put Charlie in a sore mood around Christmas, but the quiet which surrounded him did the job.

The door creaked with utmost familiarity of his childhood as he stood on the threshold, as the affable face of the family butler made his way over to him in the usual bustling manner, "Welcome back, Mr. Dalton," he took his coat and bags, but Charlie kept his scarf on, "Thank you, Nigel. Do you know where my mother is?" Charlie didn't bother to ask where his father might be- it was well-known that he was unreachable during the weekdays. Sometimes he slept at the bank; Charlie's father was a man who refused to live off his parents money, and insisted on working for his living, though it was wholly unnecessary.

"She's in the drawing room, sir."

"Thank you," Charlie said again as Nigel walked up the stairs, "And the name is Nuand-" The words caught in his throat, and Nigel turned, "...Nevermind."

Mrs. Dalton lounged on a sofa as comfortably as she could in her restricting skirt, smoking a cigarette. Charlie ventured that, if he had been born a woman, he would be exactly like his mother.

"Charlie," she said elegantly, ruining his attempt to surprise her, "You've arrived." She moved to embrace her son, and he complied, only after noticing that it was somewhat awkward for her to stand there holding him as his hands lay, limp at his sides. For all her intimidating attributes, Mrs. Dalton was the only woman yet who could comfort her son, who wanted to collapse into her and weep, but couldn't. Charlie was numb inside, and Mrs. Dalton knew it.

"Your father will be coming home early tomorrow to see you, he's having a busy day today," she said gently, touching his face. Charlie attempted his usual pleased smirk, but it somehow didn't work, "I'm tired," He said, barely able to look at his mother without tears welling in his eyes, "I think I'll go and sleep until dinner."

"You go ahead, darling," Mrs. Dalton said, with the most understanding Charlie had ever seen in the woman. He nodded and left, climbing the spiral stairs to his room.

Never had Charlie slept above the covers, but once he hit the pillow, the exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks. The last thought he had before falling into near-unconsciousness was where his dog may have been.

'You think it's really anything? I mean... does this usually happen?'

'Does it matter if it's really anything? It's like Keating says. Carpe Diem, right? If we feel something, we should go for it.'

'So what are we waiting for?'

"Carpe Diem..." Charlie half-awoke and stared at his ceiling, framed by the four-poster bed. He had seen him again. He wished that he would get out of Charlie's head, out of Charlie's thoughts, and out of his dreams. Yet, it was the only piece he had left of him. If Charlie could sleep forever, just to be next to him, to feel his body heat, he would do it. Charlie would join him. Friend, lover, it didn't matter. Neil was the first person he had known at Welton, and also the first to be able to tolerate his attitude, which had been less suave and more obnoxious during Charlie's sophomore days. Was it love? There was definitely love between them, but there wasn't time to find out if it was at all brotherly and only lustful. Charlie dreamed of that night, and the nights after that. Each moment appeared in a dream. He turned on his stomach and fell back to sleep, slowly, inhaling the smell in his home that mixed with Neil's image burned in his head.

The luggage room was dark, empty, and far away from everyone else. It was easy enough to sneak out to a Dead Poets meeting, as long as the Spaniel at the end of the hall was kept happy with a few dog treats. This was no big thing. Neil had never had a girlfriend, and Charlie was willing to share experience. The thought had never crossed the other's mind, until Meeks had said that he would try anything once, prompting Charlie to propose sex. That's when it stuck in Neil's head- he wouldn't say that he saw Charlie in a different light, but the idea seemed more and more inviting.

Charlie skipped the awkwardness of it, getting Neil close enough to his face to pull him in by the tie. In actuality, Charlie had never kissed another man before, and found that it wasn't so different than kissing a girl, and kept loyalty to his amazing ability to never falter at any hint of adversity. The hair was different, though, less rigid from hairspray, shorter, and easier to run fingers through without getting caught. After a few moments Neil pulled away and sat to the side, a horrified but stimulated look on his face.

'Do you want to continue,' Charlie had asked, 'Or should I just go to my room and finish myself off?'

Neil hadn't answered, he just sat there with a confused look on his face as he stared at Charlie.

'Fine then,' Charlie said, standing and walking towards the door, 'You really shouldn't tease people like that, I may not be able to-'

Neil had risen and almost leapt across the room to Charlie, who was now surprised to be backed up against the finely carved door. His mouth being ravished by a tongue that was astonishingly more conditioned to this sort of position. Well, Charlie would be damned if he wasn't going to be dominant in this. He did his best to push Neil off, but Neil was larger than he was and bony, so this was harder than it seemed. Charlie was able to push Neil into the seat he had been sitting in, and expertly slipped the leather of his belt off. Neil had gasped in a terrifying manner at the first hint of contact, but soon relaxed as it continued. It was charming, Charlie thought. He himself was quite hot now, and expected a return of this favor, which he sure enough got. Halfway through Charlie has to fight the question that plagues his tongue; has Neil done this before, or does he just have some kind of preternatural ability to send Charlie into ecstasy? Charlie had cascaded into passion before, but nothing like this. Neil was a whole different ballpark... There was no fooling Neil, because he already knew how much of a bastard Charlie was, so there was no prelude of sweetness that Charlie would present with the ladies. It wasn't necessarily rough, but neither of them would be coming out of this unmarked

Even the buckle-marks the young mens' backs the next day were worth it. And while Meeks smirked all-knowingly and shaking his head, Todd shrunk away, Knox was somewhere else with his desired girl in mind, Pitts was looking confused, and Cameron was suspiciously looking on, Neil and Charlie blithely mentioned a small row between the two boys that was now resolved. Keating had turned away and pretended he wasn't listening.

When Charlie awoke, the sun was gone from the sky, and Choxie was licking his face.

"Down, Choxie," Charlie said sleepily, sitting up, somewhat regretting his decision of an over-affectionate labrador, who left promptly with a wagging tail.

Charlie rubbed his eyes as if trying to rub Neil's image off of the insides. He would have given anything to remove the image, to forget his friend, just to stop the twisting fork in his chest.

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