A/N: I really wanted to write something. So, here's a nice oneshot!

Wilke's POV

What's that rule about sleeping with the enemy again?

Is there even a rule?

I can't remember as Emmett's mouth slides lower and lower, reaching a place I've never gone a day without thinking about, and slipping even lower. I bite my lip, feeling shivers run up and down my spine, enjoying every minute of this blatant treachery.

I know, if Toby ever found out, he'd never speak to me again. I mean, Emmett wrecked his relationship with Simone, wrecked Bay's life, and now I'm...fucking him. I would be considered a bastard or something of the sort, and I was fairly certain he would hit me.

But, as Emmett moved back up, slowly kissing my lips, and I tasted his soft mouth and felt his smooth skin, I knew it really wouldn't matter anyway.

"SHould we really be doing this?" I can barely get the words out, my breathing quick and my heart beat sporadic. Emmett, of course, doesn't answer. I take this as a sign to keep going, but guilt is gnawing away at my chest, and I finally force myself to move away, searching the small room for my clothes. I'd never seen Emmett's room before, not until now, and I'm surprised by all the photography. I didnt even know he took pictures.

Honestly, until today, I'd only ever thought of him as 'The Deaf Drummer' and Bay's boyfriend. I'd never considered fucking him, never thought I'd ever have to get to know him extremely well. He was The Deaf Drummer and he would remain The Deaf Drummer until his services were no longer required.

And then, just this afternoon, I'd caught Toby shoving him and Bay running out to help him. An awkward greeting had been followed by an even more awkward seperation, and I'd stepped in to lighten the mood. That's what I was good for: lightening the mood. We'd talked or, attempted to, and then...well, then this had happened. In a blur of quickly moving hands and confusion I'd suddenly realized that all I wanted to do was fuck him.

And, so I had.

Almost, we hadn't quite gotten to that yet.

Emmett was watching me, face angry. Apparently, he'd been enjoying himself. I ran a hand through my hair, pulling on my boxers and jeans, trying to look apologetic and eager to leave at the same time. I was good at this look, the "Sorry, gotta run, had fun" look as Toby had dubbed it. Equal parts contrition and control, positively lethal. We'd agreed it was my biggest accomplishment.

It didn't work on Emmett. Being deaf had given him incomparable reading skills, and I could tell he saw right through me. He stared at me as I slowly yanked on my shirt, trying to both studiously ignore him and studiously NOT at the same time. It was hard being a one-night stand kind of guy.

We gazed at each other, our comunication skills so elementary it wasn't worth the effort to try and speak. I waited to see if he would, but was relieved by the complete and total stillness of his hands.

"Well, I have to go. See you later, I guess?"

He nodded, eyes on my lips, and I grimaced a bit. The tension was building, the awkwardness of the situation smothering me, and I desperately wanted to leave. But, something was keeping me there, something in Emmett's eyes. He had something to say, I could just tell. What it was, I didn't want to know.

Still, I waited, just to make sure. Just to see if he was going to be a coward, or the badass I'd come to recognize him as. He sized me up, then lifted his hands. His left hand formed a shape, pointer finger and thumb sticking out and forming an arc type thing while his other fingers stayed curled, and he tapped it to his right shoulder. I burned bright red, recognizing this sign from a conversation we'd had last with with Toby.

"Guilt?" I demanded and he nodded.

"You," He pointed at me, "Feel," middle finger bent, slides straight up and out across chest, "Guilt."

That god forsaken motion.

I shook my head, showing him through facial expression alone that he was being ridiculous. He smirked, pointing at me again.

"You feel guilt." He said it again and my face burned.

"So, what?" I snapped and he crossed his arms, looking depressed. There was a bit of a pause, then his hands were at it again.

"Me too."

I couldn't help it, no matter how treacherous, I had to kiss him again.