Taylor

"Can I get you anything for your stomach, Taylor?" he asked me for the third time.

"No, that's okay," I repeated, glancing at Scott briefly.

"Maybe he should spend the night, Dad," Scott said, all too casually - it sounded so like something some conniving brat on Family Matters or something might say. But Frank merely nodded thoughtfully, rubbing the slight stubble on his chin.

"You'd have to not keep him up, Scott."

"Dad," Scott whined.

I just found myself smiling a bit, feeling a bit displaced (kind of like finding out you were really a year older or younger than you were, or realizing something that throws you off), and declined.

"I can make it to my room. But - not - for a few minutes," I added weakly as I suffered from post-vomiting nausea. Scott arched a brow at me, but didn't question me about my decision. It would be hard to spend a night alone after spending the last two with Scott, but maybe I needed it. It was like walking away from a dream, but since the dream had been turning into a nightmare, it didn't break my heart too bad.

"Wonder when Zac and Dave will get back," Bob commented, sitting in a chair and propping his bare feet up on the coffee table, upon the Scrabble board, causing the letters to scatter a bit.

"Where'd they go?" Clint was back in the room now.

The rest of us shook our heads, not having the slightest clue.

"They're probably just running amuck around the hotel." Frank checked his wristwatch. "Though it's a bit after nine . . . hope they get back soon."

A silent lapse took over the room for a while, a bit awkward, but suiting. I certainly couldn't think of anything to say, and was concentrating on thinking of anything except that photo . . . the caked blood . . . I think I love you . . . - no, stop. Think of Scott. Memories flickered in the back of my head. Singing in the hotel room. Becoming temporarily out of my mind when he'd taken the sudden initiative to begin his exploration of my body, only to be cut short by remembering he had somewhere to be. Waking up in his hotel room. The first soft, experimental kiss we'd shared . . . even if a bit shaky, so perfect.

My eyes snapped to Scott as I had a strange thought. Was it because we were two boys? Was God punishing me because I'd found love in the heart of someone who shared my gender? My heart skipped a beat. I hadn't really even thought about that. I was with him - another guy. If my mom and dad knew . . .

That's why I haven't told Dad about the pictures, I told myself. I have a feeling if he found out, he'd find out about me and Scott . . . I love Scott . . . and it must be wrong . . .

But . . . how could this be wrong? . . .

"Tay?"

I heard the whisper-soft voice somewhere in my subconscious, but couldn't quite latch onto it. I came to attention when I felt a firm but gentle shake from the hand on my shoulder. My heavy eyelids managed to pry themselves open, and Scott was smiling at me slightly. His voice spoke so affectionately, rich with the emotion I felt, too.

"Sleepyhead . . ."

Oh - had I been sleeping? I noticed the room was devoid of Frank and Bob, but Clint was continuing with his book with the lamp in the corner casting soft shadows on his concentrating face. The television was on lowly, and I could hear the shower running.

"You just seemed so tired . . . and I didn't have the heart . . ."

"What time is it?"

"Eleven or something. Do you want me to walk with you down to your room?"

My room . . . argh, my head was fuzzy now. "Yeah . . . that'd be nice."

"The premiere's tomorrow." He stood and tugged me up by the elbow. I sighed, still sleepy.

"Yeah. At like three, right?"

Scott nodded as we headed for the door. "Meet me for breakfast tomorrow?"

I accepted quickly. "Call me, okay?"

Dave

There were mixed emotions as Zac and I stood there feeling stupid and looking at the artsy photos of pretty turquoise hummingbirds and lilting yellow honeysuckle dripping into a pool of water. My heart thudded a little. God . . . we'd taken the film and it had turned out to be nothing but nature shots. Good shots, but not quite what my friend and I had in mind.

"Oh, shit," Zac sighed quietly as I slid the pictures back into the cheesy paper envelope scrawled with the name Dave.

"Well . . . it was worth a shot, anyway," I said, perking my voice to try and cheer the both of us up. Our shoulders sagged on anyway.

"Sorry I wasted your time."

Zac let out another sigh and flopped back down on the bench, either mad, or disappointed, or a mixture of both. I managed a half smile and shrugged, patting my palm with the pictures.

"Nah, it wasn't a waste. It was kind of fun playing Get Smart."

That got a small but appreciative smile from Zac.

"I always thought 99 was a hottie."

"Not quite as sexy as the Chief, though," I said jokingly.

Zac made a small face. "Yeah, Chief was always real arousing when he and Max were stuck in the cone of silence."

We both broke grins, and I plopped myself down next to him ungracefully.

"Well . . . what do you think we ought to do after that waste of money?"

"I dunno," he mused. "I have five bucks left, we might as well buy a consolation prize or something."

"Hell, we deserve it. We were being good, watchful little brothers, right?"

"Guardian angels," he nodded, recalling our earlier conversation.

"I say we buy something really dumb and give it to Scott and Tay," I grinned.

"Ooh . . . like . . . KY jelly or something."

Upon this, we both burst out laughing, feeling a hundred times better.

"Oh, God, they'd hate us . . . hahahaha . . . they'd probably take it as a hint, too."

Zac wrinkled up his nose. "If they haven't already."

"Hm . . ."

We looked at each other, our cheeks pink.

Zac and I wandered aimlessly up and down each aisle. Randomly, we'd pick up something incredibly useless and/or stupid, such as a box of Just For Men or a Packmen lunchbox, and announce loudly, "Well, we got what we came for!! We can go home now!!"

"Hey, you look like you need one of these, Dave," he spoke up, and I discovered he was holding up a tiny pink collar that said "FLEA-NO-MORE," on the tag. I scowled.

"Fine, Zac, I love you too."

"I know you do." A smirk crossed those lips of his.

I glared at him, grabbed something without looking at it, and chunked it at him. It hit him in the back of his head as he was putting the collar back where he found it. He jumped.

"HEY!"

I laughed, and he stooped to pick up my grenade off the floor. It was a lime green tube of something with an annoying-looking pink plastic top. Zac got an evil gleam in his eye, and looked prepared to chunk it right back, until something caught his honey-caramel eye.

"Glowtion," he read from the label, and then made a weird face.

"Wha?"

"Glowtion. Glow-in-the-dark lotion." Zac was still looking at the label. Then he burst into laughter. "AHAHAHAHA!!!! This is TOO FUNNY!!! Okay, we really can leave now . . . this will be Scott and Taylor's three-day anniversary present, with love from their Guardian Angels!"

I just laughed, confused. "We're giving them glow-in-the-dark lotion?"

"Glowtion, Dave, Glowtion. Get hep with it. Think about it . . . these two could use this in the dark to help find their way around, if you know what I mean-"

"ZAC, YOU ARE DISGUSTING!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"

Zac

As luck would have it, we were stuck behind an old lady who was buying Depends and Dentucream. She was talking about her grandchildren to the very tired-looking black young man ("Hi, My Name Is Andre") behind the counter, who was handling her - um - purchases - the same way one would handle a dead baby rabbit. Then, when she got out her purse, Dave and I exchanged horrified glances as we realized that she was going to pay for her purchases entirely in change.

Dave whacked himself on the forehead with the photos.

But as he did, and he was lifting them upside-down, by pure chance the envelope's sticky sealant wasn't as sticky as it ought to have been, and the pictures came crashing down onto the floor like an avalanche, slicing out of their stack onto the floor and scattering everywhere.

"Uh - oops. Fork," Dave murmured, and we both bent over quickly to round up the photos. We scooped them towards us and grabbed the fly-aways - and we both reached for the same photo at the same time, grabbing each other's hand instead.

"Oh . . ."

We let go. I smiled slightly, still not sure whether it was pleasing or frightening. It seemed like an electric tingle played with the hair on the back of my neck whenever my skin touched his. Argh . . . I busied myself with looking at a random photo I'd grabbed.

"Hey, a rainbow," I noted, admiring the artsy capture of the elusive phenomena, surprised someone had managed to capture it.

"Really? . . . -- Hey."

"Hm?" I eyed Dave, and was taken aback at the look on his face. "What's the matter?" I prodded.

"A rainbow?"

"Yeah . . . - See?" I handed him the photograph. He barely looked at it before he held my gaze with his.

"Didn't we have black and white pictures?"

You could literally hear the "CHA-CHINGS" registering in our heads then. But then, we realized the cha-ching was actually from the cash register, and the little old lady was waddling on with her little cart full of embarrassing personal items. The cashier, Andre, was staring down at us.

"Oh, sorry." I stood up and hastily put the Glowtion down on the counter.

"Will that be all?"

"Yeah, we've already paid for the pictures," I said, watching Dave slide the photos back into the envelope as he stood up. Hi My Name Is Andre rang up the Glowtion, ignoring the fast and friendly service sign. Dave and I were now almost jumping around in urgency to run and get the right pictures. We snatched the plastic bag from Hi My Name Is Andre when he handed it to us, and darted towards the photography counter. The woman at the counter nearly had a heart attack when Dave and I smacked the service bell and I announced, "We're BA-ACK!"

"Oh my," she clutched at her heart through her shirt. "What now?"

Dave laid the pictures on the counter and, as always, took a more calm route than I.

"We were supposed to have black and white pictures . . . those are color."

"Color? . . . That shouldn't be. What was your name?"

Dave almost batted his lashes at her. "Da~ave," he said charmingly.

She looked around on the counter in front of us, and selected another package of pictures. She opened them first and looked at them, then nodded to us. "Sorry. I think these are the ones you're looking for."

We practically snatched them from her hands as she held them out, and of course, that caused us to drop all the black and white shots onto the floor. We could only stand in shock as a sea of pictures covered the floor - Taylor's back, Taylor's face, Taylor's profile - they were all of Taylor . . .