A/N: Yay, I’m posting something! I really shouldn’t be writing, but I had to take a break from studying. This is a two-parter. I’ll post the second chapter sometime next week (hopefully). I know Brad is only a year older than Rob, but this is AU, so I can make them just as old as I want (lol). Anyway, thank you for reading and I’d love you if you left me a review. Just tell me what you think. :)

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Part 1

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Brad Delson was running late for the wedding rehearsal. It could have been worse—he could have missed it altogether, but at the thought of Dave’s terrible wrath, he decided it was better late then never.

As he pulled into the shopping center parking lot and killed the engine, Brad could only imagine the horribly slow and painful death Dave would probably have planned for him by the time he arrived. A death at the hands of his best friend didn’t seem like a great way to die…

He got out of his car and slammed the door, hurrying toward the tiny dry cleaning shop that sat in the very corner of the shopping center, nestled between a card store and the ice cream parlor.

Stepping through the doorway, Brad pulled the sunglasses from his face and strode to the counter, glancing around the tiny area before focusing his attention on the empty space behind the counter. One minute passed; then another, and Brad finally grew impatient.

“Goddamn,” he hissed. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

A sudden rustling from the back room was the only answer to his question, and Brad sighed and tapped the tips of his fingers against the glass top of the counter. His anger only intensified when a tall, dark-haired kid in khakis sauntered through the doorway. He was obviously taking his own sweet time.

Brad nearly groaned. Dave would never forgive him.

“May I help you?” the kid asked sardonically.

He crossed his arms over his chest and Brad rolled his eyes, sneering at the defiant tone in the boy’s voice. Charming. Brad had almost forgotten how much he hated teenagers.

“I need to pick up a tux,” he said sharply. “Brad Delson.”

The kid cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side, fixing his gaze on Brad’s face. A couple seconds of silence passed, and Brad resisted the urge to shiver as the kid looked him over. Normally, he would have protested the way the dark eyes appraised his entire body, but Brad had more important things to worry about.

“Check?” the kid finally asked, a cheeky grin flitting across the clean lines of his face. “Credit card? Cash? What did you say your name was?”

“Credit card,” Brad answered cautiously. “Brad Delson. Why?”

He reached into the pocket of his slacks and retrieved his wallet, fishing out his card and handing it to the boy behind the counter. There was another uncomfortable moment of silence, and Brad began to wonder why the hell he hadn’t taken Dave’s advice and rented a tux.

“I’m Rob.”

“What?” Brad blinked, pulled out of his thoughts by the sudden statement, and he realized that the kid was watching him intently with a predatory smirk.

“I’m Rob,” he repeated. “Rob Bourdon.”

“Rob?” Brad asked uncertainly. “Well…nice to meet you.”

He glanced down at his watch, cursing when he remembered that the rehearsal had started almost half an hour ago. Dave would definitely kill him. When he looked up again, Brad realized that Rob was still watching him, his gaze steady and his thin lips twisted into an overconfident smirk.

“What are you staring at?” Brad asked irritably. “Look, kid, I’m in a hurry and I’d—”

“I’m not a kid,” Rob snorted, his eyes flashing. “I’m twenty-one years old.”

Brad closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in utter frustration. He was having a hard time understanding why this kind of shit always seemed to happen to him, and Rob’s smartass comments certainly weren’t helping. Obnoxious little shit.

“Well, Rob,” Brad said sarcastically, “I’m late for my friend’s wedding rehearsal, and I really, really need to be there. I need my tux.”

Rob studied Brad in interest. The kid was practically beaming. Brad groaned and glanced toward the racks of clothing that stood behind the counter.

“Please,” he said desperately.

He watched in muted fascination as Rob shot him a cocky grin and retreated to the back of the shop, searching through a certain clothing rack for a moment before deftly retrieving Brad’s tux.

“Here you go,” Rob announced. He returned to the counter and handed Brad his credit card; then the hanger. “May I help you with anything else, sir?”

“No, thank you,” Brad said tightly. He rolled his eyes and started to turn away, but he was stopped when Rob reached across the counter and grabbed his hand.

“Hold on,” the kid said.

Brad watched as Rob grabbed a sharpie and scribbled something on Brad's palm. When he pulled his hand away, Brad peered at the scrawling handwriting and realized that it was a phone number. A phone number? He looked up and Rob grinned at him, his dark eyes dancing.

“Thanks,” Brad said uncertainly.

“Call me sometime,” Rob said with a laugh. “If you’re ever lonely or something.”

Brad nodded and started toward the door, sneaking a quick glance over his shoulder, and Rob merely grinned and gave him a tiny wave before Brad shook his head and left the shop.

As he draped the tux across the back of the passenger seat, climbed into his car and started the engine, Brad wondered how the hell an obnoxious, overzealous twenty-one-year-old smartass had managed to pick him up in the middle of the local dry cleaner’s.

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Dave was not happy.

“Brad,” he said tightly, folding his arms across his chest and glaring down at his friend. “How nice of you to join us…almost an hour late.”

Brad cringed and stuffed his hands into his pockets, shrinking under Dave’s hard gaze. He should have known better than to expect Dave’s forgiveness; his best friend didn’t take these things lightly, and Brad knew all too well that Dave would probably be livid for days.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I had to pick something up, and this kid—”

“Just stop it,” Dave hissed. “Stop talking.”

Linsey smirked and Brad glared at her, a growl rising in his throat. But Dave shot him a warning look, and Brad bit his lip and swallowed the retort; still, he couldn’t help throwing a nasty look in Linsey’s direction.

“Brad, I need to talk to you outside,” Dave said. He spun on his heel and started toward the doors of the church, and Brad followed, thoroughly chagrined. He felt like a kicked puppy. At that moment, Brad wanted to call Rob Bourdon and blame him for everything.

As soon as they’d exited the building, Dave stopped and turned to glare at Brad, his eyes narrowed in anger and his mouth pulled into a tight, grim line.

“I’m sorry,” Brad said again. “I really am, Dave. I tried to be here on time.”

“I know,” Dave said wearily, his gaze softening. “I know. I just…you knew this was important to me. And when you didn’t show, I thought you were—”

“I’m sober,” Brad said irritably. “Why don’t you believe me, Dave?”

“All right!” Dave exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. “I know you’re sober, Brad! When I didn’t see you, I thought that maybe…maybe you’d gone back—but only for a moment…”

“You don’t trust me,” Brad said, disappointed.

Dave sighed and rubbed at his eyes in obvious frustration, and Brad felt a twinge of guilt for repeatedly putting Dave through so much shit that he didn’t deserve.

After some tears, a lot of fighting and a year of rehab, Brad was sober. He was done with booze and drugs, and he never wanted to go back. Dave knew that. But he had still put Dave through all of the heartache and pain. Brad felt horrible, and Linsey would never let him forget it.

“I do trust you,” Dave said wearily. “I’m sorry, Brad.”

Brad nodded and stepped forward as Dave sighed and pulled him into a hug, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek and offering him a tiny smile. Brad knew he was forgiven.

“Let’s go,” Dave finally said, pulling away. “Linsey’s probably wondering where we are.”

Brad glanced down at the number scrawled onto his palm in permanent marker and the kid’s face flashed through his mind. Although Brad hated to admit it, he was curious. Rob Bourdon intrigued him.

Dave started up the steps of the church and Brad followed, stuffing his hands into his pockets with a grim smile.

---

Two nights later, Brad sat in his car and stared at the door of the dry cleaning shop.

He’d been sitting there for almost half an hour, contemplating his next move and wishing he’d had the nerve to call Rob. It might have been easier, but Brad didn’t like telephone conversations. They were too impersonal and detached. And in spite of himself, Brad wanted to see Rob again.

He glared at the door, fiddling unconsciously with the steering wheel cover and cursing under his breath. It was ridiculous. Brad didn’t even know the kid, but he remembered that Rob’s eyes were dark, dark brown; they were so dark that Brad felt as if he’d fallen into them…

A sudden tap on the car window startled him out of his trance, and he turned his head to see Rob grinning at him through the glass. Heaving a sigh, Brad opened the door and stepped out of the car.

“Hey,” Rob said cheerfully. “Waiting for me?”

“Maybe,” Brad said moodily.

Rob laughed and glanced down at Brad’s car in apparent interest, and Brad studied him, reluctantly admitting to himself that Rob was attractive. He was cute, but he seemed young and naïve and Brad was willing to bet that Rob Bourdon didn’t know what the hell he was getting himself into.

“You could have called,” Rob said. “I didn’t give you my number for nothing.”

“I don’t like talking on the phone,” Brad muttered. “It’s too impersonal.” He expected Rob to laugh at that, but he didn’t. The younger man merely nodded and turned in the direction of the shop.

“I was just about to close up,” he said pointedly. “Come help me.”

Brad locked his car and followed Rob through the doorway. He stopped at the counter and glanced around, waiting as Rob closed and locked the front entrance.

“The owner’s on vacation,” Rob said, skirting around the edge of the counter and disappearing behind one of the racks of clothing. “Tahiti, I think. He asked me to watch the shop for a few days, and I needed the money.” He reappeared with a broom in hand and set about sweeping the floor.

Brad watched him in silent curiosity. He was content to listen to Rob talk; the lull of his voice was rather soothing. With a sigh, Brad leaned against the counter and propped his chin on the palm of one hand, concentrating on the way Rob’s ass moved beneath the baggy material of his pants.

“So I’ve been skipping class,” Rob continued. “I mean, I didn’t go very much before, but like I said…I really needed the money, so I thought Why not? I don’t have anything better to do…”

“You shouldn’t be skipping class,” Brad said without thinking.

Rob stopped sweeping and looked at Brad, an amused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Dave would have been so proud, Brad decided, to hear him—Bradford Delson, of all people—say such a thing about school.

“How old are you?” Rob asked suddenly.

“Twenty-four,” Brad replied, straightening and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’ll be twenty-five in January.” He contemplated the thoughtful look on Rob’s face as the temperature of the tiny room suddenly seemed to spike about twenty degrees.

“I think you’re attractive,” Rob remarked, fixing his inquisitive gaze on Brad’s face.

“Really,” Brad said somewhat sardonically. “And here I thought you’d scratched your phone number into the palm of my hand because you liked my tux.”

Rob cocked an eyebrow and walked to the counter, leaning across the glass case and propping his head up on one hand. Brad stepped forward as well, balancing his weight on the edge of the counter and narrowing his eyes in a suspicious stare.

“You don’t even know me,” Brad murmured.

“I know,” Rob said.

Brad closed his eyes as Rob leaned forward and kissed him, and all he could feel at that moment was a tremendous sense of relief. Rob ran his tongue experimentally along the chapped skin of Brad’s lips and shivered, and Brad opened to the kiss after only a moment of hesitation.

It wasn’t dramatic and Brad didn’t see any fireworks, but it felt so good that he couldn’t pull away. The kiss was slow and open-mouthed, and Brad found himself lifting his hand to cup Rob’s cheek as their tongues wrestled in a slow, lethargic movement that was both primal and incredibly arousing.

Rob finally pulled away, and Brad opened his eyes to find the younger man smirking down at him. Normally, Brad would have been angry, but he couldn’t find the energy to speak, so he simply waited.

“I’m not asking you for anything,” Rob finally said.

Brad was confused, but he nodded.

“Promise,” Rob said firmly. An empty silence settled between them, and Brad caught a flash of determination in Rob’s eyes before the younger man backed away from the counter.

“I promise,” Brad said, although he didn’t know exactly what he was agreeing to.

Rob smiled in response and began to sweep the floor again. Brad watched him, tapping his fingers absently against the glass top of the counter. The silence in the tiny shop seemed to surround them both in giddy uncertainty, and Brad felt the air was so thick he could have cut through it with a plastic knife.

“Good,” Rob finally said.

“Good,” Brad murmured.

---

Dave’s bachelor party was well on its way to being a total disaster, and Brad had never felt so helpless. Clutching his soda tightly in one hand, he leaned against the wall and watched Mike and Chester across the room, their heads bent together as they discussed something in hushed tones.

“Hey.”

Brad started at the unexpected greeting and turned to see Dave standing a few feet away. Cringing because he knew that the party was already showing signs of dying off, Brad nodded to his best friend and shifted to make room against the wall. Dave complied and stepped closer.

“Hey, Dave,” Brad said.

“Enjoying yourself?” Dave asked tonelessly, his eyes fixed on the two men at the opposite side of the room. “There’s a stripper in the other room, you know.”

“I know,” Brad said despondently. “I’m sorry, Dave. I didn’t think it would—”

“Don’t,” Dave muttered. “Don’t apologize.”

Brad glanced across the room and found that Mike had disappeared, leaving Chester to settle down in one of the lounge chairs and sip quietly at his beer. Nodding in Chester’s direction, Brad nudged his best friend and shot him an imploring look.

“You should talk to him,” he said encouragingly. “I think he’d want to talk to you.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Dave replied without blinking.

“He came to the party,” Brad said pointedly. “That has to count for something.”

Brad knew he was grasping at straws, trying desperately to convince Dave that his relationship with Chester could be salvaged. But Dave merely shook his head, and Brad knew that there was no convincing him otherwise. Biting nervously at his lip, Brad turned and found that Chester was staring in their direction.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” Dave finally said.

But as soon as the words left his mouth, Chester stood up and started toward them, the expression on his face unreadable in the dim light of the living room. Brad felt his best friend stiffen and he knew that Dave was nervous, but he had no desire to stick around and listen to their conversation.

“He’s walking this way,” Dave whispered uncertainly, stating the obvious.

“So talk to him,” Brad said quietly. “I’ll be in the other room.” He turned and walked away, glancing over his shoulder to see Chester lean down and say something into Dave’s ear. The dazed look on Dave’s face made Brad think briefly of Rob, and he wondered what the kid was doing.

With one last look at Chester and Dave, Brad smiled and made his way into the kitchen.

---

When Brad finally arrive back home, Rob was sitting on his front step. As he climbed out of his car and shut the door, Brad couldn’t help the frown that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“How long have you been waiting?” he asked as he approached the younger man. “You could have called me, and I would have come to…”

Brad trailed off as he realized that Rob wasn’t even looking at him. His eyes were still trained on the wet concrete of the front walk and his hands were stuffed deep into the pocket of his hoodie. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and Brad scratched distractedly at the tip of his nose before he sat down next to Rob on the step.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

A moment of silence passed, and then another, but Rob didn’t lift his gaze from the ground. Brad sighed and shifted closer to the huddled figure and reached out to brush the back of his hand across Rob’s cheek.

“Don’t touch me.”

“What?”

Puzzled, Brad withdrew his hand and peered over at Rob, trying to catch a glimpse of his face. But Rob turned his head and looked in the other direction, and Brad was left speechless. The night air was chilly, and Brad thought of going inside, but Rob’s behavior was starting to worry him, and Brad didn’t feel comfortable leaving him sitting on the front step in the cold weather.

“Do you drink?” Rob asked after a while.

“No,” Brad said, surprised by the question but relieved that Rob had decided to speak. “No, I don’t. Not anymore.” He paused and reached out to touch Rob’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. This time, the younger man leaned into the touch, turning to bury his face in Brad’s chest and heaving a melancholy sigh.

“Good,” he said, his voice muffled in the fabric of Brad’s shirt.

“What’s wrong?” Brad asked softly, wrapping his arms around Rob and ducking his head to press a kiss to the top of the silky dark hair. “Why did you want to know?”

Rob pulled away with a sniffle and wiped violently at his nose, and Brad felt a wave of concern at the hopeless look in his eyes. Brad was afraid to push, afraid that Rob didn’t want to share what he was feeling, so he merely reached out and gently entwined their fingers.

“It’s nothing,” Rob finally said. “I just had to know.”

He gripped Brad’s hand a little more tightly, and Brad gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He wouldn’t ask again, he decided, until Rob was ready to tell. However long that may be.

“Would you like to come inside?” he asked gently. “I can make you some coffee or tea…”

“Alright,” Rob whispered.

Brad released his grip on Rob’s hand and stood, turning around and helping Rob up off the step before he fished his house key out of his pocket and stepped toward the door. In a matter of seconds, they were safely inside the house, and Brad closed and locked the door.

“Coffee?” he asked, tossing his keys onto the entryway table. He shuffled down the hallway and into the kitchen, glancing at the answering machine on the counter before turning back to Rob.

“No,” Rob said quietly. “No coffee.”

Confused, Brad turned to look at him, and then suddenly, he found himself being pushed up against the kitchen counter and Rob was kissing him and they were pressed together so tightly that Brad could barely feel his legs.

They kept that up for some time, their mouths joined in slow, sensual kisses and their moans intermingling in the warmth of the kitchen. Brad’s hands were fisted in the front of Rob’s hoodie, and Rob’s hands had traveled down to cup Brad’s ass.

Brad could barely breathe.

Finally, he pushed Rob away, confused by the younger man’s behavior and angry because he wanted an explanation. Rob gazed down at him through narrowed eyes, his lips parted in a half-smirk.

“What are you doing?” Brad asked irritably.

“Kissing you,” Rob deadpanned. “What did you think I was doing?”

“You were crying less than five minutes ago,” Brad said, ignoring the obvious sarcasm behind the question. “What are you trying to—”

Rob cut him off with another kiss, capturing his mouth so suddenly that Brad had little time to react. And by the time he’d recovered sufficiently enough to push Rob away, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. This time, the kiss was hungrier; more aggressive. Brad groaned as Rob’s teeth tore at his lips, and with each passing second, the kiss seemed to grow even more violent.

By the time Rob tore away from the kiss and started biting at the sensitive skin of his neck, Brad had decided that Rob Bourdon was going to drive him fucking mad.

“Were you planning on fucking me up against the counter?” Brad snarled, tightening his grip on Rob’s shoulders and gasping as the younger man nipped warningly at the hollow of his throat.

“Yes,” Rob mumbled, shifting and pausing to lick thoughtfully at the skin underneath Brad’s chin. Brad nearly stopped breathing.

“But I—ah—I don’t know what you…what I was…” Brad couldn't remember what he'd planned on saying. Thoroughly distracted, he bit his lip and moaned, his breathing harsh and ragged, and Rob merely shifted and pressed him farther into the counter. The kitchen was filled with the sounds of Brad’s panting and moaning, and Rob showed no sign of stopping his actions; he continued to inflict the delicious torture on Brad’s skin.

“Stop,” Brad muttered, attempting to swallow past the lump in his throat. When Rob ignored the request, Brad pushed at his chest. “Rob, stop it.”

“Why?” Rob growled, pulling Brad even more tightly against his body.

“Rob, stop!”

Brad finally shoved Rob away, angry with himself for ignoring his instincts and allowing Rob to seduce him so easily. The look on Rob’s face was nothing short of incredulity. The kitchen was enveloped by an empty silence. Both Brad and Rob were still, each trying to unnerve the other with a violent look.

“I think you should leave,” Brad finally said, his voice hard.

“Fine,” Rob hissed, and then he turned and stalked out of the kitchen, and Brad heard the front door slam only a couple seconds later. It was then that the reality of the event finally hit him, and Brad reached out to grip the edge of the counter in an attempt to steady himself.

Rob was absolutely infuriating. Still, Brad couldn’t help feeling a sense of loss at the younger man’s absence; and with his thoughts still focused on Rob, he sighed and stumbled across the kitchen floor and began to make himself some coffee.

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End Part 1