It was difficult for Cole to get riled up about much of anything, but goddamn it, Drew had fucking shoved him. And then the little ass monkey ran and cried to the Big bad Cox, earning some (admittedly, relaxing) time in a fucking closet.

No one treated Cole Aaronson that way. No one.

And the goddamn icing on the cake? That douchebag got keynote speaker.

Cole glared at his pulmonology essay on cystic fibrosis. It wasn't fucking fair. He was supposed to have everything that stupid riffraff Drew had managed to snag without any trouble. He hadn't even broken a damn sweat.

And Cole? He was left with a whiny, horse-obsessed girlfriend, a trustfund crybaby-reputation and one helluva horny old man. It wasn't much, and it sure as hell wasn't any consolation prize.

Cole shoved his essay away, deciding to just call Drew out on it. Maybe he could get in a good left hook while he was at it. And then drinking. Lots of drinking.

Mostly because Drew would probably kick his ass to Pluto and back by the time it was all said and done. Cole had to get the damn power back somehow; there was no way Drew would get to have it all.

Either way, this was going to end painfully. Cole hopped off his bed, grabbing his cell phone on the way. Good as Lucy was in the sack, this was still the perfect excuse to get out of watching "Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken", which would then culminate in tearful sex.

"I know, baby girl," Cole crooned smoothly into the phone at Lucy's protests. "We'll do it next weekend, okay? You too." He slipped the phone into his pocket and jerked on his coat. The anger boiled just under the surface, and he sure as hell couldn't finish his essay till he'd seen this through.

Angry wasn't him, and it was intolerable.

XXXXXXX

He'd spent the better part of an hour before locating Dr. Mahoney, who told him none-too-politely to fuck off; she didn't know where Drew had scampered off to. It sounded like they were having a tiff (especially if the charlie horse she'd laid to his shoulder was anything to go by).

Cole stalked the hallways, avoiding Cox and Turk on his way. The last thing he needed was to spend his weekend in these halls, and he would be if flagged down by either attending. He finally headed for the quieter ells of the school's hospital, poking into random rooms and offices. If there was one thing he knew about Drew, it was that he didn't like to be too far from the patients, whether he was on shift or not. The other thing he knew was that Drew had taken to sleeping in random rooms to avoid waking Dr. Mahoney up.

He grinned as he finally found Drew in Dr. Cox's office, sleeping on a rather uncomfortable looking couch in the corner and curled around a pillow, his face tense and frustrated.

Cole debated the age old pranks, such as painting Drew's nails or doing some weird make-up thing. He hadn't brought either of the necessary items with him, so he settled for yanking hard on Drew's casual tee shirt, pulling him hard to the floor with a thump.

"What the fuck, Cole?" Drew snapped, rubbing his eyes. "I've been up for over twenty-four hours; what the hell's your problem?" He waved his hand then, shaking his head to clear it as he got to his feet. "You know what, I don't care."

"I do!" Cole shoved him back down the couch. "Where the hell do you get off, huh?"

"Look, if this is about the stupid keynote speaker thing—"

"It wasn't stupid," Cole snapped. "Why the hell is everything not a big deal to you? Why can't you let the people who want it actually go for it?"

Drew's eyes sharpened and narrowed. "Like you wanted it? You just wanted it so you could get another grand from your trust fund a year early."

"Oh, a trust fund joke," Cole muttered. "Dawg, I've heard that one before." He didn't say how much it still cut.

"You think you'd be used to it by now." Drew stood again, standing in Cole's personal space. "Look, if I were you, man, I'd back the fuck off and find something else to whine about." He glared at him. "You don't even know what wanting something is like."

"Just because you're a convict who made bad choices doesn't mean jack to me," Cole retorted, but not backing down from Drew's intimidating stance. "We all know that once a gunner, always a gunner."

This seemed to do the trick, and before Cole had time to even smirk about it, Drew's fist had come crashing into his face, knocking him onto Cox's desk. He looked up in startled surprise, blood trailing from his split lip.

"You fucking hit me, you douche," Cole managed to sputter, blood spattering against his hand.

"That's the usual response when someone's being a dick," Drew replied bluntly. "Besides, you broke the deal. You fucking spoke."

The anger boiled again, and Cole charged towards him with a raised fist. It was obvious he'd never been in a real fight, because Drew caught his wrist and whirled him to the door.

"You don't want to do this, man. Look, you want this crap so much, work harder. Quit trying so hard to be the cool guy and it'll happen," Drew said harshly, breath catching at Cole's earnestly angry face.

What the fuck, Drew…let him go already.

But he didn't, and Cole stared back at him, hair mussed from its usual "artfully messy" style. His lip bled a bit still from where his teeth had smashed into it, and his dark eyes were uncharacteristically serious for him.

Drew wasn't used to seeing him look this real. Oh, he was used to the fake anger, the pouting disappointment when something didn't go his way…but this unbridled rage and hurt on the other guy's face…he hadn't seen looks like that since his father saw him in prison last.

"One punch, man," Cole muttered, flexing his wrist in Drew's grip.

"You want one? Fine. Take it." Drew stepped back finally just to get away from the situation, holding his arms out. "Whatever it is that makes you feel better at night."

Cole clenched his fists, white smile in place again as he raised his fist, aiming to strike that ruggedly handsome face. He approached Drew cautiously, as if the other man would strike back at him the moment he got within arm's reach.

Drew didn't however, remaining perfectly still and breathing shallowly in anticipation of the punch.

Cole finally dropped his fist and flopped on the couch. "No fun if you don't fight back, man," he mumbled, crossing his arms angrily. He felt the couch dip beside of him, felt Drew's leg leaned against his own as the older med student faced him on the couch.

"Look, it's no secret that I really don't like you, alright? But don't come around here blaming your shit on me because you want what I've got." Drew's eyes darkened further in the dim lighting of the room and he glared at his leg. "It took me a long time to get where I'm at now, and I'm not letting some crybaby with a free ride through med school take that away from me."

Cole couldn't help feeling like someone was taking the good toy under the Christmas tree. He glared at his own legs, arms still crossed, biceps brushing against Drew's chest where they sat. He looked up to retort, locking gazes with him finally. They both still breathed quite shallowly as the adrenaline continued pumping, still ready to fight or fly.

Drew's hand dropped to Cole's shoulder. He swallowed hard before he tried to speak again. "Med school's a competition, I'm not gonna lie. And I've seen kids like you get swallowed for breakfast whole. If you wanna hit me over this, fine, but if you don't fucking start acting like a half-ass doctor, you're gonna bomb out."

"You took everything that I wanted," Cole finally muttered petulantly, but he didn't shake off Drew's hand. It felt heavy and warm on his aching shoulder (he'd have to explain the bruise to Lucy somehow; he was beginning to like the idea that he'd just tell her he slipped on the floor while bringing in a choking child or something stupid like that).

"If I took it, it's because you let me," Drew retorted passively, dark eyes searching Cole's face for answers, for reason, for anything that could tell him why the fuck this kid dared talk about this like it was all a game. "You're not serious enough for it. Grow up and maybe you can take it back."

Drew got up to leave, but Cole stood and yelled at him again, shouting something about gunning down the old keynote speaker, something about sleeping with their superior and having his nose so far up Cox's ass that it was no wonder he got to have everything.

Cole didn't finish his ranting insult, wishing so much he'd just kept his fucking mouth shut, because the next thing he knew, they were both in the floor, scrapping and punching whatever they could reach. The adrenaline kicked in again, his weary body slow to respond to the punches and quick to jab back as best he could.

It was true, he'd never been in a real fight, but Drew didn't seem to have much on him either except height and a little more experience. When they finally rolled to a stop by the window behind Cox's desk, Drew's eye was purpling and blood trailed from his nose. Cole was sporting a rather large fist-print on his cheek, his lip bleeding again.

Drew glared at him, breathing hard and fast. "Happy?"

"I feel better, if that's what you mean."

"Don't care." Drew wiped his nose, blood staining his sleeve as he coughed and looked at Cole again. "You're such a fucking kid, I swear to god."

"Says the homie that hit me," Cole shot back, wiping the blood from his mouth.

Drew made a strangled, frustrated sound that Cole hadn't heard from him before except the one time Cox was yelling at him to intubate a coding patient, and Drew hadn't been able to. Instead of throwing another punch, though, Drew shoved him against the floor, and holy shiznite, he tasted blood.

And that was because Drew was kissing him, forcing the blood of his split lip into Cole's mouth. It took a few shocked seconds as the endorphins rushed and his heart pumping that Cole began to respond in kind, fists tangling in Drew's shirt and teeth biting at his lip.

Drew hissed in pain, digging his fingers into Cole's hips. "No biting; they teach that in kindergarten."

"I went to private school; biting was allowed," Cole retorted in defense, but Drew's only response was to kiss him quiet again. And Cole knew they shouldn't be doing this; Mahoney would have his fucking ass on a ventilator when she found out. He could do without Lucy, who was so weird that she might want to watch or something.

That or hop the fence with Dr. Reid or Dr. Mahoney, seeing as Lucy talked about them both constantly.

When Cole felt hands slipping under his shirt, he jerked back, head hitting the carpeted floor. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Drew shot him a glare. "What the fuck do you think?"

"This is gay, man. We're not gay."

"Agreed. Shut the fuck up."

Cole tried to protest more, but hands slipped past his boxers to grip his half-hard cock. It sprang to life, hardening more against Cole's better judgment. His hips thrust up to meet Drew's hand, and he jumped when Drew's hips came down against his own, an answering erection finding friction against his hip.

"So not gay," Drew muttered against Cole's throat, bringing a hand up to grip at the younger's shoulder. "So not fucking gay."

Cole almost wanted to say something smart-assy just because he knew Drew was two steps away from having a sexuality breakdown (not that Cole was far behind, because goddamn it, he wanted this). He didn't fancy reopening his lip though, and so his hands came down to push against the fabric of Drew's jeans.

Drew made a whining grunt noise in his ear, biting at the lobe and meeting his hand. It was quick and rough, unfamiliar jerking movements that tore against the silence of the room. Drew collapsed to the side of him when they were done, breathing still hard and his face still tense.

Cole lay there for a long moment, not wanting to say anything about what'd just happened. He knew already by unspoken agreement that he and Drew would probably never talk about this again. Hell, it'd probably never happen again.

So he got up without words and left Drew sitting in the floor of Cox's office. And he still said nothing when Drew showed up, his black eye fading a week later, and locked the door behind them in Cole's dorm.

xxxxFINxxxx