I Think We Got Love, Zanna, Don't!

Saturday. Skittery's party. I didn't want to go.

Actually, I hadn't wanted to do much of anything for the past week. I'd managed to get myself dressed and out to the Regional band performance, but other than that, nothing. I'd only left the house for school, and only left my room for meals.

I'd never imagined myself as the lovesick, heartbroken type. But then again, I'd never imagined myself falling in love before either.

Everyone talks about love, how much they want to be in love, how love is a divine gift. Fuck that. Love hurts. The reason I had spent the past few weeks with a consistent, burning pain in my chest, constantly churning and whirling, was because of love. My love for Bailey, and then my love for Skittery.

Because what else could it be? I didn't hate him; I just ached to hold him again, to feel his hair curl around my fingers, his lips throbbing against mine. I kept telling myself that if I could ever get him back, I would never let him go. If I had to go live with him to make sure he was always with me, then I would. My mom wouldn't be happy about that, but I would do it anyway, if that's what it took.

It just didn't seem like Skittery wanted to come back. Every day at lunch, Spot would sit in his lap and they'd go on and on about being boyfriends, doing things boyfriends do. I wanted to vomit. Even the knowledge that the other guys were all on my side, rooting for me, didn't help much.

So now I was lying back on my bed, flipping through one of my Allan Ginsburg anthologies, listening to the London Philharmonic Orchestra play through Holst's Planets, and wishing I could make myself get up and go to the party. But I couldn't. It was hard enough watching Spot and Skittery at school everyday; I shouldn't have to deal with them on weekends.

Zippy was scratching and whining at my door, but I didn't get up to let her in. What had happened between Zippy and the Talent Show? Zippy was supposed to be our puppy. But no; now she was mine. Unfortunately, I didn't really want her so much anymore.

The door opened and I jerked up, surprised. "Mom! You could knock first!" Zippy bounded up into my lap and I stroked her absently as my mother crossed her arms and stared at me.

"What?" I said finally.

"Tell me what's wrong," she demanded. "You only act like this if something is really wrong, so tell me. I'd like to know."

I frowned at her. "Not like you'd care about what's going on in my love live. You'd probably be happy to hear what happened to me."

To my surprise, her expression softened. "Did Isaac break up with you?"

I curled my knees up to my chest and rested my head on them, not looking at her.

"Aw, Ducky..." I blinked; she'd stopped calling me that pet name in seventh grade. "Why?"

I lifted my head to look at her, cautious about her interest. "There's a lot of reasons."

"There usually are." She shut my door and came to sit on the edge of my bed. "But Ducky, I can't think of a good reason as to why he'd leave you. A good, honest, solid reason. Help me see things his way, if you can."

"He thinks I treat him like a girl." I couldn't believe I was telling my mom this. Hadn't she tried to kick me out of the house when she first found out? What was this sudden change of heart?

"Do you?"

"No. His..." I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to share this information with her, if Izzy would want me to. "His older brother abuses him, and he doesn't fight back. I didn't want to see him hurt, so I fought back for him, but he got mad." I sighed, and Mom put her hand on my foot. "He told me I shouldn't have beat up his brother, that he didn't need me-"

"Wait." She put her hand on my forehead and leaned forward. "Is this what happened on New Year's? Why you had those bruises around your neck?"

"... Well... yeah."

"This boy tried to choke you?"

"Isaac's brother?" I coughed, slightly embarrassed. "Um, yeah. Twice."

Now it was my mother's turn to look shocked. "You put your life on the line for Isaac, and he's foolish enough to break up with you? My goodness, Danny!"

I hadn't thought about it that way before. Joe had tried to kill me. But I'd never thought about the effect our fights would have had on me; it was all about making sure Skittery was okay.

"Well... I guess..." I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. "But there's also Paul."

"What about Paul?"

"He kissed Isaac at the Talent Show. So Isaac and I got in a fight and broke up. Now Paul and Isaac are seeing each other."

"Hmph." My mother rolled her eyes. "What does this Paul have that you don't?"

"Well... shiny blonde hair and striking blue eyes? Small frame and pretty features? And he's definitely not a threat to Isaac's masculinity."

"If Isaac's biggest priority is protecting his masculinity, then he's going to live a very lonely life." She put her hand on my cheek and smiled slightly. "Ducky, maybe I don't understand gays, but I know how you feel. Isaac must be crazy, to give up a boy like you."

I stared at her, stunned and moved. "Mom...what changed your mind?"

"About you? Well, it was a lot of things. The way your face lit up when he called you. Listening to you protest your need to be with him when he wasn't feeling well. Mostly, though? Zippy."

"Zippy?" I looked at the sleeping ball of fluff next to me. "How?"

She put her hand in my hair and shut her eyes. "I wish you'd never seen what happened to Bailey. If life was fair, I would've come home early that day and either prevented what happened or been able to at least save you from seeing her body. But when I couldn't do either of those things, Isaac came over to help you. That was a pleasant surprise to me. He went to you, helped you, stayed with you until you were comfortable. And then, before I could even get the blood out of the carpet, he brought you this." She leaned over and scratched Zippy's neck, making my puppy open her eyes and yawn. "What's her full name?"

I sighed. "Zipporah."

"That's pretty."

"Isaac picked it. It was the name of Moses's wife."

Mom blinked. "He's religious?"

"Jewish." I cocked my head. "Why?"

She shook her head. "Never mind."

We were quiet for a moment. "Mom?"

"Yes?"

"... I should tell you. I think..." I paused, biting my lip and looking at the bed. "I think I'm in love with Isaac." She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. "Mom..."

"Danny, are you sure about this?" She turned to me with wide eyes. "Are you sure this... lifestyle is what you want?"

I smiled slightly. "Even if I didn't want it, I don't have a choice. I'm stuck with it."

She put her head in her hands and I leaned back against my headboard, waiting for the yelling to start.

But, after a long moment, she simply lifted her head and looked at me. "Did you mention once that Isaac was having a birthday party today?"

"Um... I think so."

She smiled. "Then I'm the wrong person to be admitting your love to."

I actually had to think a minute before I could understand what she was saying. "Are you serious?"

"Ducky," she sighed. "He makes you happy. If he has any brains in his head, he'll come back to you." A smile crossed her face. "And I think he's more intelligent than he gives himself credit for."

Woah. Hold the phone. Say what? My mother wanted me to go to the party? She wanted me to get Skittery back? "Mom, I-"

"Not now, Danny." She got up off my bed and went to my closet. "You need to get dressed and get your present ready."

"Present? Mom-"

She turned to look at me over her shoulder, smirking. "You know what you want to give him. What you should give him."

I raised my eyebrows and thought about it for a moment. When I realized what Mom expected me to do, I twitched in surprise.

"Danny?" She prodded.

I shook my head and grinned at her. "Mom... I love you."

"I love you too, Ducky," she replied with a slight, sad smile. "And I'm sorry if that hasn't been evident lately."

I stood and went to her, letting her hug me briefly before advising me to wear my black pants with the pale green shirt. I just smiled and took the clothes as she gave them to me.

Life suddenly seemed just a little bit better.

The strangest thing about Skittery's party: Skittery was nowhere to be found.

At least for me he wasn't. Every time I entered a room, he left it. I finally managed to corner him about two hours after I arrived, catching him in the kitchen as he set up some more snacks.

"Skittery, what's wrong?" I demanded. "Why are you avoiding me?"

He glanced at me, looking gorgeous in a pale blue shirt and mahogany slacks. "Spot... I think we need to stop this game before it goes too far."

"What do you mean?"

He reached into the kitchen drawer and pulled out a knife, using it to cut celery stalks into smaller pieces. "We're not boyfriends. It's all pretend."

Ouch. That hurt. "Who says we're not boyfriends?"
"Spot..." He sighed and put the knife down, turning to look at me. "Spot, Snitch was my boyfriend. You were a fling. I'm sorry, but that's-"

"You've been such a fucking jerk lately," I snapped. He shook his head in surprise. "Don't you deny it, you have been. You're harsh and sullen, even to me, and especially to Snitch."

He scowled. "God, I'm so sick of people trying to be all self-righteous with me! Just 'cause I broke up with Snitch doesn't mean I'm fucking Saddam Hussein." He snorted grossly. "God forbid."

"You know what, fuck you." I crossed my arms over my chest. "You were more fun to be around when you were with Snitch."

"Okay, you and me? We're so done." His face twisted angrily. "We're over!"

"Newsflash, hon." I smirked. "If it barely lasted a week, 'we' never were."

He glowered at me. "What do you know?"

"Stop being pissed at Snitch. He doesn't deserve it. If anyone deserves it, I do."

Skittery turned to the refrigerator, pulling out a pan of brownies. "Spot, you didn't call me-"

"Izzy, I've called you other things! Cliptip, Ikey-Mo, the ever-popular kyke!"

"Do you want me to be pissed at you? 'Cause you're doing a good job."

I leaned back against the counter, sighing. While the idea of dating Skittery had been nice, it turned out to have been a bluff. I figured it out early on. He was only touchy and kissy when Snitch was around. Otherwise? Nothing. I'm not stupid. He was using me to try and hurt Snitch. He hadn't struck me as manipulative or mean. Nor had I ever found him the type to hold grudges.

Loves brings out the worst in people, I guess.

Sigh-inducing.

Skittery was totally still in love with Snitch.

"Skittery, just..." I shook my head and started out the kitchen door when the doorbell rang. "I'll get that for you."

He stood by the sink, looking at his chopped up celery. "Thanks," he responded quietly. I hesitated, then shrugged and went to the door. Upon opening it, I got quite a shock: Snitch stood outside, his hair sticking up and curling in the humidity, dressed in green and black, his letter jacket draped over his shoulders. He smiled coldly at me.

"Surprise."

I shook my head and stood back to let him in. The others, sitting in the front room, came to see what was going on. "Hi Snitch."

"Hi." He took off his jacket and folded it up, placing it on Skittery's coffee table. "Bobe here? Mr. Koehns?"

I had no idea who Bobe was. "Mr. Koehns is out shopping. Why?"

Snitch shrugged. "Curious. I need to talk to Skittery."

"I'm not sure if he'll listen-"

"He will. He has to." Snitch shuffled his feet slightly. "Where is he?"

"Kitchen." Instantly, Snitch set out for the kitchen. I started to go after him, but Pie Eater held me back.

"They'll want to be alone."

"Maybe we should all leave," Blink suggested. "After this, they'll spend the night either bitching or macking, so the party's pretty much over anyway."

We all agreed, and as the others got their coats, I hung back a bit, worried for a reason I wasn't quite sure of.

"Spot?"

I jumped and whirled around. Race stood behind me, splendid in a black shirt and blue jeans. His cheeks were flushed, and suddenly my heartbeat sped up.

"Do you, um..." He grinned sheepishly, shyly, adorably. "I was wondering if you'd like to go to Sonic with me?"

I blinked. "What about Skittery?"

"I have total faith in Snitch. You and Skittery are pretty much over."

I smirked. "Then I'd love to."

Life was starting to look up.

Sigh-inducing.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I dropped the knife onto the counter, wincing at the loud clang that echoed through the kitchen. Tears of embarrassment sprang to my eyes, and I fought to keep them back.

"Skittery."

"What?" I snapped, angry at being interrupted, especially by Snitch.

"What are you doing?"

I turned to look at him, humiliated. "What does it look like?" I brandished my forearm at him, displaying the diagonal brick-red lines, cuts from earlier in the week that had already scabbed over. "I'm giving myself another fucking tattoo?"

"Skittery, please don't fight me-"

"Oh, he doesn't want to fight!" I laughed cynically, hating the noise as it sprang from my mouth. "Then why'd you come here?"

"Skittery, we need to talk-"

"I don't want to talk."

"You'd rather bleed all over your kitchen counter, trying to get up the balls to do both wrists and just fucking end it?"

I stared at him, surprised and ashamed.

"Skittery, you can't just run and find a knife every time something goes wrong-"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do. You're not my mother."

His eyes narrowed. "No, 'cause your mother's a stupid tightass bitch who won't even come to her son's eighteenth birthday just because he's queer!"

My jaw dropped. Suddenly, I couldn't feel anymore; my heart was pounding just looking at him again, and it felt almost as if the cuts on my arm were throbbing, blood trying to break out from behind the barriers, but I didn't feel any pain or pleasure. I was just shocked that he would talk about my mother that way.

"Like you're one to talk," I responded finally. It was weak, but it was all I could think of to say.

"Skittery, my mom made me come here."

"Oh did she? Why? To say good-bye to your friends before she sends you off to a group to smite your gayness."

"Skittery-"

"Because God forbid she be happy with the way you are!"

"Skittery, please-"

"What right do you have to call my mother a bitch when yours is no better? Worse, even. You have to deal with your mother's bitchiness day in and day out. Sure, mine ignores me, but that's better than constant insults."

"Skittery, if you'd shut up and listen-"

"Why? So you can call me a Christ-killer again? Or are you going to get more creative this time, with a little help from your bigoted mother?"

"Shut up about my mom!" He cried, his fists clenched at his sides. That was good; I wanted him to be angry.

"All right then. We'll move on to your father, and just how much like Daddy you are."

His entire expression changed, from flared nostrils and furrowed eyebrows to clenched teeth and warning eyes. "I'm not like my father."

"Oh yeah? What about that bloodthirsty temper you're trying so hard to hold back, huh? Maybe I broke up with you because I'm scared of what you might do to me, to our kids if we had any?!"

"Bullshit!"

"You're violent and angry, Snitch! Just like your father!"

"You don't even know my father!"

"You told me your story and that's enough! You're just like him!"

That was it. He grabbed me and roughly pinned me to the back wall. His face contorted with stubborn rage, and even though I was scared, I felt a cold kind of pleasure knowing that I had finally gotten him to want to fight me.

"C'mon!" I taunted, grinning wildly. "Hit me! I know you want to! Hit me!"

The kitchen went silent, except for our heavy breathing. Snitch stared at me, his eyes roaming my face, and I waited for him to rear back and break my nose.

Strangely enough (or maybe not so much), I was excited at being so close to him again. His hands covered my wrists, his face was barely an inch from mine, and, most exciting of all, with each breath he took, his chest brushed against mine. Each one of those gentle touches sent me closer to changing my mind, making up with him instead of fighting.

"Do it," I said again, shutting my eyes. "Come on. Be a man."

"No."

I opened one eye. "But-"

"I can't." His hands fell away as he took a step back. "You fucking pissed me off, Skittery. I really want to hit you. But I can't make myself do it."

"Why not?" I'm sure I sounded ridiculous, almost pouty, but I didn't understand. He'd hit anyone else. Anyone else would hit me. What was the missing link?

"Skittery, I can't." He looked up at me, his cheeks blushing pink. "You can't hurt someone you love, because then you hurt just as bad."

I stared at him for a moment, trying to decipher what he had just said. "Wait... you..."

"I love you." It came quietly, his eyes fixed on his feet. "That's what I came here to say. I'm sorry about kissing Blaine; I knew even then that I'd rather be with you, but goddammit, Izzy, I hurt so bad, it was like Bailey had died all over again. I was hurt and angry, and I shouldn't have called you that name. I'm sorry, and I love you."

I didn't know what to say. I'd spent the past week being angry at him for beating my brother, for being stubborn and temperamental, for kissing Blaine and using a racist term. But now I could remember how sweet he was; a flood of memory, and of realization: he beat up my brother to protect me; his stubborn temperament was balanced out by his honesty and the quick, sweet apologies; he wasn't the only guilty one here, even if that's how I had been treating him.

And he loved me.

"Snitch..." I began, stepping forward. "Snitch, I'm sorry too. Really. You... you didn't deserve the way I've been treating you. I meant to apologize after our performance, but when I found you kissing Blaine in the dressing room, I just... that really hurt. I hadn't expected that kind of retaliation. I'm sorry, overall." I ran my hand through my hair and looked at him. "And I missed you. Spot was right. I have been bitchy lately, and it's 'cause you keep me happy. You do things that piss me off sometimes, but I think, in the long run, you're the one I want-" I cut myself off when he lifted his hand and used it to wipe his eyes. "Snitch?"

His voice shook when he told me, "Please don't make me cry. I hate crying."

I couldn't stand being away from him anymore. I walked to him, placed my chin on shoulder, nuzzled my cheek against his. His arms clasped around my waist, and I shuddered, amazed at how good it felt to be back. His chest pressed firmly against mine, his fingers clenching in the small of my back, his faint scent on ink, soap, and a cologne I never did recognize.

"I love you, Snitch," I whispered.

His lips glided over my neck and I shivered. "Love you back, Izzy."

We stood contentedly in the kitchen for a moment, his heart thudding against my chest. His hair brushed softly against my cheek, and I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. I leaned back to look him in the eye. "Snitch," I whispered, adjusting his choker and gently kissing his Adam's apple. "Let's go upstairs."

He hesitated. "Izzy... I don't think..." I rubbed my thumbs over his cheekbones, and he cut himself off, sighing, his breath warm against my skin.

"C'mon," I smiled at him, taking his hand and leading him to the staircase. I tripped on the third stair, fell, and he collapsed next to me. We lay there, giggling at each other, suddenly nervous until he placed his hand over mine and leaned over to kiss me. I swear I almost fainted, it felt so good to kiss him again. I put my hand in his hair to draw him closer, and his fingers worked to un-tuck my shirt.

"Snitch," I said, pushing his hand away. "Not here."

"Why?" He was almost pouting.

"My dad will be home soon."

"... Oh. Good enough." He stood up, then slipped his arm around my waist as we went to my bedroom and shut the door.

"At least we know Joey won't find us this time," I muttered, sliding the lock into place as Snitch sat on the edge of my bed.

"What are you planning on doing up here, exactly?" He asked, putting his hands on my waist and drawing me into his lap. I shrugged amiably and kissed his mouth again. Within minutes, he'd stripped my shirt off and was working at my belt while I nipped his neck, glad for the familiar taste of it.

"Oy," I groaned as his hands finally found their way into my pants. "Snitch, I-"

"Shut up," he responded with a short laugh. "Izzy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I kissed his mouth and moved my hands under his shirt, tracing his scar with my fingernails. "For what?"

He lifted his face to look at me. I smiled. He grinned. Our lips met, and he fell back onto my bed, taking me with him, his hands still working in my pants as I stroked his chest and stomach, priming myself to do to him what he was doing to me.

After, we hid under my pale blue sheets, breathing heavily and completely unable to keep from grinning, to take our hands from each other's bare skin. His fingers dug into the muscles in my shoulders, and I pressed my chest against his, enjoying him.

"I almost forgot," he said suddenly, laughing. "Happy birthday, Izzy."

I nuzzled his nose with mine. "Thanks."

"So was what we just did illegal?"

We both laughed. "Only if you turn me in. Are you going to?"

"... No. It's not like we did anything really bad anyway."

"No. Just really messy."

He bit my shoulder and hummed against my skin. "I have a present for you."

"There's more?" He laughed and tossed the sheets back, letting cool air chill our moist skin.

"Yeah, but it's downstairs in my jacket pocket." He reached over the side of the bed to grab his boxers and pants. "So you can either hold on up here while I run down and get it, or you can follow me?"

I was completely comfortable at the moment, flopped back on my bed, soft sheets against my skin. I shook my head and reached for his hand; he quickly zipped his fly and hooked his fingers with mine. "I'll hang out up here. But put your shirt back on in case Dad's home, okay?"

He nodded and slid his shirt over his shoulders, buttoning it as he left the room.

I sighed heavily and put my hands over my face, still grinning helplessly. Snitch and I had spent more than a week apart, but it felt like longer. I spread my fingers and stared at the ceiling, thinking about how I'd been too angry to realize how much I missed him, and too stubborn to see how much he missed me. Rolling over onto my side and trying in vain to peel damp sheets from my skin, I shut my eyes and wondered just how I'd been lucky enough to find my bashert and generally be happy with him.

"Izzy?" I felt someone's hand in my hair, and sat up, wrapping the sheets around my waist as Snitch smiled at me. "I have it."

He sat next to me and placed a black box in my palm. I blinked at him. "I hope you didn't spend too much."

"Not a cent."

I frowned, then snapped the box open. Inside was Snitch's class ring.

"It's a diamond," He said sheepishly, "'cause I was born in April. And I know it's band designs and not dance, but, um, I like band. Oh, and it's got my name on it, but I figure that's the point, 'cause if you wear it, it means you're mine, and no one else can have you."

I grinned at him and kissed his cheek, slipping the gold ring on my finger.

"Is it too big?" He asked, chewing on his lower lip.

To my surprise, it wasn't. "No. I guess we have the same ring size."

"That's lucky." I turned to him; his face was colored in a perfect shade of pink, and I found myself falling for him all over again.

"Thanks Snitch."

He grinned sheepishly. "No problem, dude."

"Mine's in my bedside table, if you want it?"

He looked surprised at the offer, as if he hadn't even considered the idea that I would want to exchange.

I smiled; how sweet was he?

"Just take it," I said, reaching to open my desk drawer and pulling out a black box of my own; Desert Vista's class rings all come from the same provider, so even though I'm a year older than Snitch, our rings were of a similar make and style. Mine was silver, slightly slimmer, with an amethyst jewel and different designs, but still basically the same. I took my ring out of the box and handed it out to Snitch. He simply stared at it.

"What?" I said, smirking slightly. "Don't like the color?"

"No..." He took it gingerly, as if he thought it might break in his hand (which, considering the price, it very well might have). "I dunno. I just..." He slid the ring on his hand and studied it, tilting his head onto my shoulder. I kissed his hair and hugged him.

After a moment, I released him, reaching over the edge of the bed for a pair of discarded flannel pajama pants, pulling them on without lifting the sheets.

"Okay, now you're being ridiculous," Snitch said with a laugh. "I have sucked that thing myself, or did you forget?"

I put a finger on his lips. "You make it sound so nasty." He shrugged, and I shook my head. "You're a dirty bastard."

"I'm a sixteen year-old guy. The two are synonymous."

I pursed my lips at him, then helped him remove his shirt before flopping back onto my bed. "I hope the two year age difference won't cause any trouble."

"It's not really two years." Snitch put his arms around my waist and snuggled into my chest. "My birthday's in April. I'll be seventeen then."

"Still illegal."

"Then the law can bite me." He nipped my skin and I laughed, pushing him away. "Izzy?"

"What?"

"The Valentine's dance is next week."

"And?"

"Well... are we going?" He looked up at me, his hazel eyes wide and hopeful.

"Do you want to?"

"I'd... I'd like to. I think. The popular kids won't be expecting us to show up because of what happened at Winter Formal, so there's really nothing to worry about. Besides..." He linked his fingers with mine. "We said we were going to push back at them, right? They weren't going to hurt us anymore. If we make our stand at the dance, then maybe... maybe we'll be safe to go to prom together."

His face was warm against my chest, and I smiled, running my hand over the smooth skin of his back. "Okay. We'll go."

"Great!" He hugged me briefly, and I found myself enchanted by him. Maybe it was just the fact that I was fresh off my eighteenth birthday, but I felt like, I don't know... like I was in charge for once. Snitch tended to be the one giving off the leader-vibes, but for some reason, I felt that I had complete control over him. He was supposed to be the head, the big guy in charge, but I had him wrapped around my little finger.

It was kind of invigorating.

"Do you want to stay the night?" I asked, toying with his fingers.

"I dunno... I don't think my mom will let me."

"You said she was okay with it-"

"Doesn't mean she'll be okay with me spending the night at your place." He sat up, and moonlight fell in blue-purple stripes over his face, illuminating his pretty eyes and gorgeous smile. "I should probably call her."

"But tatellah..." I grabbed his hand as he started to get out of bed, and he turned to look at me, his eyebrows raised. "I... I don't want you to leave yet."

A grin spread over his face. "That's so cheesy, dude."

"It's true!" I protested. "I mean, a week's not a very long time, but you have no idea how many dreams I had to kick myself out of so I wouldn't miss you, and how much I didn't want to see you because I knew you'd just break my heart again with that look in your eyes, and-"

He put his hands on my face and kissed me softly. "Don't tell me I don't know," he murmured. "Because I do." He kissed me again, this time stroking my cheekbones until I opened my mouth to moan, allowing him to slip his tongue inside. I pulled him closer, almost into my lap, dipping my fingertips under the waistband of his slacks.

"Wait." He pulled back and grinned sheepishly at me. "Don't start that. I can't stay." He stood up and put his shirt back on, using one hand to comb his hair back.

"Not even for a few more hours?" I felt slightly ashamed that I was almost begging. "We can, um, watch a movie, or something?"

He turned back to me and laughed affectionately. "All right, all right. Stop looking at me like that. I'll stay a little longer."

I beamed as he came back to the bed and cuddled into my side. We argued for a moment over what to watch before eventually deciding that having the TV on, whatever channel was playing, was a good way to cover up all the noise that Snitch loved to make when I touched him certain ways in certain places.

When I finally had to see him off, it was almost eleven at night, and we spent a half-hour standing outside his car, just talking and teasing and joking. We were finally forced to separate when my dad sleepily poked his head out the upstairs window and said that Snitch's mom had just called and demanded he come home.

Snitch sat in the front seat of his car, smiling up at me. He looked tired, but happy. I reached down and grabbed his hands, my heart fluttering when I saw my ring glinting on his finger.

"I'll see you at school, " He said after a few moments of complete silence. "Okay?"

I nodded, and he squeezed my hands. "Snitch, I love you."

He lifted my fingers to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. "I'm glad I can finally say I love you back."

Silence fell comfortably between us. His hands still clung to my fingers, our link now swinging briefly for Snitch's mild amusement. "I guess I'd better go," he said at last, releasing my hand. "See you later."

He slammed the car door shut, and I tapped on the window, grinning when he winked up at me before taking off down the street. I stood on the sidewalk for a moment until the cold finally settled in and forced me back inside.

I leaned back against the door and locked it, my head swimming with glee. I had come to another realization outside: as much as I controlled him, he controlled me. The rest of our time together would be spent as a constant struggle, like two boys arm wrestling, and caught in an eternal dead heat; one would finally waver for a moment, seeming like the other would win, until they locked back in the middle again, only to start swaying the other way. That's what we would be like, my Snitch and me.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

.::AUTHOR'S NOTE::.

I struck a deal with Dakki: if she wrote me Snittery "flangst" (her term, not mine), I'd post this chapter. So if you're seeing this, it means she wrote and posted my Snittery flangst, so you should probably go read that too, LOL. As soon as you're finished reviewing, that is.

I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Honestly, I did. It was just... fun. And enjoyable. I don't know. Ignore my rambling.

I have a paid account here now, ahahaha. That's the big reason I struck this desperate deal with Dakki. I want to see how many of you are reading and not reviewing ::mean glare, but not really::

Okay, I'm out. Ta kids, see you next chapter (which, by the by, is the last one save the prologue. OMG!!!!1!1!!111!!)