Dean and Hanson

T H E E X C H A N G E

by Dean Lidster =======================================================================

PART SEVEN

(Chapters twenty-eight to thirty-one)

DISCLAIMER ~~~~~~~~~~

This story contains sexual acts between boys. If this is not to your tastes, then why in God's name are you reading this in the first place, huh? If you're curious, then that's fine by me - just remember: an open mind and an open heart is the secret to a good and happy life. If you are UNDER the age of concent for state / geographical location / planet that you're in / on etc, please leave now (unless you want to be educated and have an open mind that is!)

I spose this story is copyrighted. By this, I mean that I wrote it and would not particularly want anyone to subtly alter it and pretend it is their own. However, you MAY post it to any newsgroups, archives etc, print it, give it to friends without my prior permission PROVIDED THAT I STAY ACCREDITED AS THE AUTHOR AND YOU DO NOT CHARGE FOR DOING SO. Easy :-)

The story is fiction, and whilst there are references to real live people in here, none of this took place outside of my hormone-driven mind...

If you like this story, mail me at dean@deans-domain.nu. If you don't like it, mail me anyway and tell me why!

The latest version of this saga may be found at my web site: http://www.deans-domain.nu/ourplace/stories

Cheers, Dean

Dedicated to Lee - I will love you forever.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Hayley trudged back down the alley from the fields towards the road, wanting to do nothing more than lock herself up in her room for the rest of her life. The things she had just witnessed had completely shattered the dreams she had had for the last couple of years, and now it felt as if her entire life lacked purpose.

As she walked, head down, she virtually strode straight into a man carrying a silver flight case. Not thinking anything of it she carried on a few paces until she realised the footsteps behind her had stopped. Cautiously, she looked round and saw the man looking back directly at her.

"Uh, Hayley, isn't it?" asked the man.

"Do I know you?"

The man smiled a well-practised 'I'm completely innocent, honest' smile and walked a couple of paces back towards her.

"No, but I have to admit I know a fair amount about you."

"Huh?"

"I'm an freelance investigative journalist. I'm presently doing a piece about Taylor Hanson."

Just the mention of his name brought Hayley's momentarily forgotten anger back to the foreground.

"Really?" she asked, her scheming mind going into overdrive. If she played her cards right, this could be mutually beneficial to the both of them, and suitably damning to a certain Mr. Jordan Taylor Hanson's career. "Well, in that case, I think you may want to hear what I have to say."

"Oh I may, may I?" smiled the journalist.

"Cut the crap. Can we go somewhere a little more private?"

Seeing Hayley take such a direct line struck a chord with the journalist. She meant business, and if that business was anything groundbreaking to do with Taylor Hanson, he damn well needed to know.

"Sure. You hungry?"

"D'you wanna know what I know or not?"

Hayley was getting impatient as she steadily chomped on the less- than-satisfactory burger this guy had shelled out for. Hell, she was expecting a full three-course dinner for what she was about to tell him! However, material gain was not what she was after for once, so she graciously let it slide.

The reporter sloppily grabbed the straw of his Fanta with his tongue and guided it into his mouth.

"Sure," he said between noisy slurps and the stirring of ice cubes.

"Taylor is gay."

A mouthful of Fanta-diluted half chewed burger was projected across the counter top as he lost all concept of the method of consuming food.

"He... He's what?" he stuttered, still not sure that he had heard correctly, or that the girl actually knew the meaning of what she was saying.

Hayley tutted and cast her eyes heavenward for divine inspiration. How could someone this dumb actually make a living?

"He is GAY! Homosexual! Queer! Bent! How many other ways do you want me to put it?"

Gathering the few nerves he had, the reporter took a deep breath and tried to follow this through logically, and with a degree of logic. Tay Hanson being proved as Gay would be one of the top news stories on MTV, and even the big boy networks might be interested too. But he had to make sure that his source wasn't just playing him.

"How do you know?"

"You know that guy that he brought back from England and is practically attached to?"

"Yeah, uh..." he thumbed through his notebook. "...Dean Lidster."

"That his name? Geez he sounds like a dork."

In fact to Hayley, he sounded WORSE than a dork. It was him that had come storming in and upset everything. Bastard.

"So how do you know he's... Er..."

"A fucking queer?"

"Yeah."

"I saw them."

"What, holding hands?"

"No, they were..."

"Hugging? You saw them hugging?"

"Would you let me finish already? They were makin' out!"

Had the reporter been Jim Carrey, his jaw would've punched a hole in the table he was leaning on.

"You actually saw them?" This was getting rather deeper than he had anticipated.

"I did better than that."

How could anything possibly be better than an eye witness?

Hayley shoved her hand into a pocket and produced an unlabeled 8mm videocassette, placing it in the centre of the table.

"You filmed them?" UN-BEEEEE-LIEVABLE! He moved his hand out to take the cassette, but Hayley had been waiting for that and quickly snatched it back.

"You ain't getting that for a burger and fries."

The reporter smiled a thin, knowing smile.

"How much?"

"Five hundred bucks." Hell, it could be worth ten times that, but she wasn't in it for the money. Well, not a LOT of money, anyway...

"FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS?" he almost screamed, provoking a couple of disapproving glances from other patrons.

"Take it or leave it. I am not budging. I'm sure there are PLENTY of networks who'd pay way more than that to get a hold of this," she said, waving the plastic rectangle tantalisingly back and forth.

Thing was, he knew she was right, and besides he would easily make that back by licensing it out to other news companies. He fished around in his jacket pocket and pulled out his chequebook.

"Ohhh no, cash."

"How can you actually find something worth watching?" I asked, flicking through channel after channel, most of which seemed to be occupied by wall-to-wall commercials.

"You can't." replied Zac, lounging against one of the beanbags between Gareth's legs. "That's why we do our own stuff."

"Huh?"

"We make our own films," explained Tay, sheepishly. "They're not, like, Spielberg or anything, but I guess they're better than this daytime shit. You wanna see some?"

"Sure!"

Tay got off me and sauntered over to a large safe-like cabinet and opened the heavy metal door with a clunk. Inside were hundreds of Mini DVs, DATs, Beta SPs, quarter-inch and two-inch open reels, along with a set of CD-Rs and a few CDs.

I scrambled up and walked over to him to get a closer look. "Bloody hell! What's all this?"

"This, Mr. Lidster, is practically a complete record of our lives - hence the fire safe! Our folks have always been into filming us and shit, and I guess it kinda rubbed off on us."

He picked up one of the huge 2" Ampex reels and handed it to me. "That is one of the studio masters of 'Middle of Nowhere'," he grinned. I looked at the label: "MMMBop, Thinking of You".

"You gotta listen to that," laughed Ike. "Tay makes THE most monumental fuck-up on one of the takes."

Tay smiled and reached to take the spool off me, but I wanted to hear the perfect Tay Hanson mess up. I smiled at him and turned round just as his fingers touched the cold metal spool, and walked over to the mixing desk. "Wanna give me a hand, Ike?"

Tony groaned his disapproval as Ike prised himself from his vice- like grip, and gave Tay that "Nah nah" look.

He took the spool from me and dumped it on the Tascam multitrack and looped the brown tape through a maze of rollers and pulleys, finally fastening it to the empty take-up spool.

He punched fast-forward, causing the tensioners to bob up and down wildly and then hit play once the tape was about halfway through. The speakers burst into life as a very raw-sounding version of "Thinking of You" began to play. Ike moved over to the mixing desk and adjusted the levels slightly so that the instruments didn't drown the vocals.

"I bet you don't notice it," grinned Tay

"Just let the kid listen..."

"...be thinking of you the whole time: Ride with the ding of a beagle, ride along with something, nah nah nah nah nah nah, I'll be thinking of you!"

"What was THAT?" I asked as one of the triple voice harmony deviated quite impressively from the lyrics.

"That," grinned Ike, loving the rare position when he could embarrass the hell out of Tay, "is a fuck-up. Listen to this:"

Ike rewound the tape again, but this time hit the "Solo" button on Tay's vocal channel, removing every other sound bar him.

Tay visibly cringed as he heard himself singing a load of bullshit, and more than a little off-key. I still thought his voice sounded sexy, though!

"I was concentrating on my fingering..." protested Tay.

Zac and Gareth immediately looked at each other and burst out laughing at the innocently said but pervertedly interpreted double entendre.

"The hell you were!" retorted Ike as he smiled as he realised what the other two were laughing at, desperately trying to keep a straight face. "That was because you had been given some shit by the producer and you'd gone all mardy."

"She was a bitch! Besides, I do mardy." he said, frowning.

Ike turned to me. "See?"

I couldn't sleep. The fact that I was four-and-a-half thousand miles away from home didn't seem to matter. Hell, as long as I was with Tay it wouldn't matter if I were four-and-a-half million miles away. What did matter was that there was a finite time left until we had to part company yet again, and this time there was no official way I could either get him over to the UK, or me over here. There was no way my parents could afford to send me to the states even semi- regularly, let alone as often as I wanted to go. I knew Tay would very willingly pay for the flights, but that really wasn't fair on him. OK, so if our roles were reversed and I was the pop star and he the unknown British lad from rural Derbyshire, I knew that I would do whatever it took to stay with him.

I sighed and decided to think realistically. Option one: Tay moves in with me back at home and goes to my school. Problem: Hanson dissolve. Option two: I move in with Tay here in Tulsa. Problem: I'd miss my family so much it'd be stupid, and I'd crack.

Option three: I didn't want to think about option three. Not ever. It shouldn't be an option, but right now it seemed there was no alternative, conducting a relationship via phone and e-mail being the only viable solution and from what I had seen on line, no way would that work.

I sighed and turned slightly, pulling Tay's smooth arm over my chest, his breath playing on my neck. He stirred slightly in his sleep and hugged me closer to him oh-so-gently. Yet another tsunami of emotion blasted it's way over me and I wanted to yell out with the frustration and anger I felt, but I couldn't. Fate had brought us together those many moons ago in the bedrock under the English Channel, and now she was just as easily going to tear us apart with no pity or remorse. A force in the universe that can not be reasoned or bargained with.

I quietly cried myself to sleep.

"NO!" yelled Tay, sitting up sharply in bed and whacking his head on the plywood underside of the bed, scaring me half to death in the process.

"Shit Tay are you alright?"

He was breathing heavily and the light of the moon reflected clearly off the thin film of sweat covering his face and chest.

"Y... Yeah," he said, rubbing his forehead. "It doesn't matter."

"What? What was it?"

"Nothin'," he smiled, but the smile did little to hide the anguish that was so present in his beautiful face. If I knew him as well as I thought I did, I knew what was wrong.

"You thinking about what we're gonna do after this exchange thing is over?"

Tay's sharp eyebrows dived into a deep frown as he screwed his eyes tightly closed. He nodded. He opened them again and as he did so, his long eyelashes flicked one of his tears onto my face.

The look of pleading and dependence was so vivid that I realised it simply didn't matter what fate had in store for us. The love we shared could defeat fate just by looking it in the eyes. We would never be apart again.

"Tay. Taylor, look at me." I took his head in my hands and look straight into those pools of emotion. "I don't care what I have to do to be with you, I will do it. You are so, so special to me that you have become a part of me. I don't think I could go on without that part, Tay... I love you so damn much!"

We collapsed into each other's arms, crying harder than either of us could ever remember. I had mis-read fate. She wasn't tearing us apart, she was pushing us closer together.

Across the room, Zac slowly lay back down and looked at the sleeping figure of Gareth next to him. The thought that he might loose Gareth surprised him - he hadn't even given the concept the time of day and found himself biting his bottom lip to try and hold back his tears. His parents would have to do something about this - like hell would he back down on this account.

"Quit poking me!"

"Shhhh! You'll wake them up!"

Ike, still dressed in just his boxers, tiptoed into the room armed with his camcorder. Tony was almost directly behind him and whenever Ike stopped, he would run straight into the back of him. Ike carefully avoided the squeaky floorboard and quickly pointed it out to Tony who was just about to step directly on it, and breathed yet another sigh of relief.

It was morning and, as usual, Ike had been given the task by his mom of rousing the cohorts from their slumber. He had strode into our room just about to yell a load of obscenities and insults at the top of his voice when he saw how we were lying. It was nothing too revealing (to his eyes) but it just looked so damn cute he had to capture it on tape. He carefully nipped back to his room and grabbed the camcorder.

Gently, he knelt down so that he was on the same level as the lower bunk, and pressed the REC button under his thumb. The camera whirred quietly to itself as it began immortalising the scene in front of it. He knelt forward slightly to get a little more height, and gently pressed the "Telephoto" side of the zoom control, gently allowing the image of our unconscious forms to fill the frame.

I was lying on my side and Tay, as he had done the night previously, had his arm draped over my chest, his fingers interlaced with mine. He was a lot closer than he had been the night before though, and had his nose just behind my right ear, the wonderful sensation of his hot, moist breath making me smile slightly in my sleep.

The sight of us lying like that - completely peacefully - sent a twinge of guilt through Ike as he thought about what they were just about to do, but justified the action with the thought that his mum had asked him to get them up.

"Now?" whispered Tony, a suitably evil grin on his face. Ike pulled his head back from the camera's viewfinder and nodded, keeping the camera pointed at us.

Tony held a very battered cymbal that had belonged to Zac's original drum kit (the one Kieran had "grown out" of) out in front of him with his left hand, and belted it one with Zac's baseball bat sending both cymbal and bat crashing to the ground with such volume it'd wake the dead: It consequently had the desired effect on us. Tay leapt up vertically and once again bashed his head on the bunk above whilst I leapt out of bed like a scalded cat and tripped over the discarded baseball bat and landed directly on top of Zac and Gareth producing a stereophonic "OOOF!" from under the covers.

Ike stood up and surveyed the chaos they had caused. "Breakfast is served," he announced, then broke out laughing and ran down the hall with Tony in tow.

Tay crawled out of bed and poked his head round the door. "YOU'LL PAY, IKE!" he yelled groggily, and used the bunk post to drag himself to his feet, his boxers tented out lusciously with his morning hard- on.

"What day is it?" I asked, completely disoriented with the strange surroundings combined with the effects of a supersonic flight over the Pond.

"Uh, Sunday, I think. School tomorrow."

"You wish!" laughed Zac.

"Huh?"

"It's Monday today, Tay."

"Hmmph."

"So who has the 'honor' of getting to teach you?"

"Miss Malcovitch," groaned Tay, collapsing in a heap on the floor.

"Also known as Malcobitch."

"Or just plain 'Bitchy."

"So what's so bad about her?" asked Gareth, a suitably worried look on his face.

"No, Gareth, you see you got that question slightly wrong," corrected Zac. "It's 'what's good about her'".

"Oh,"

"She isn't that bad," said Tay, seeing Gareth's visibly worried look. "She's only paid to bitch at us - you should get off fairly lightly. Then again, she may just decide to give you a free trial and bitch at you anyway. Thing is she is quite a good teacher. Actually it's a miracle she manages to teach us anything - she has to be good to pull that off!"

"Yeah, I guess so - what was her greatest achievement? Getting you to tie your shoelaces?"

A pair of pillows promptly clobbered me to death.

"Good morning, boys," smiled Diane as we all ambled, stretching and yawning, into the kitchen.

"Morning, mom," replied Tay, giving her a hug and a kiss before falling into his place at the table next to Tony. Gareth and I were just about to sit down when she cleared her throat, hands on hips.

"Ground rules," she smiled, "include giving your host's mother a hug and a kiss in the mornings, or she'll refuse to feed you."

I smiled and gave her a bear hug and a peck on the cheek before re- joining Tay at the table.

"What time's Miss M. arriving?"

"Oh no," said Diane in mock annoyance. "Looks like I forgot to call her to say you were back today."

Tay, Zac and Ike looked at each other in utter disbelief. The Hanson household had very few rules, but the ones that existed were non-negotiable. One such rule applied to the schooling: at least twenty hours a week plus homework - any missed due to gigs etc. (bar tours) had to be made up, one way or another. This was very unusual.

"Are you serious? You really didn't call her?"

"Well, your father figured seeing as you had done six hours a day in England, you had worked off the next week or so."

"Dad said that?"

"He reasoned that your grades were good enough for you to have a break. He's taking you out somewhere today."

"He's HERE? MOM!"

"Don't wake him up just yet, Tay - he got back very late last night."

"Where's he taking us?" asked Zac, practically bouncing out of his seat.

"He wouldn't say. He told me I'd worry too much if I knew, so you're bound to enjoy it whatever it is!"

"Oh cool!"

"Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold! I'm gonna go see the little ones."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have absolutely no idea it the type of pilot's license described here exists, but it's a nice idea, so I wrote it :-P FICTION RULEZ! :-)

"Zac would you please stay on a single channel for more than a half a second?" complained Tay as Zac flicked between MTV, VH1, CMT, The Cartoon Network and Fox.

"But there's nothing on!"

"There would be if you'd give it chance!"

Zac frowned and ignored his brother, continuing to prod at the up / down keys on the remote. Tay sighed, got off his beanbag and deftly snatched it out of Zac's hand, and turned to MTV. He flipped the remote upside down, took the batteries out and chucked it back at Zac.

"There, you got something to play with now!"

Zac scowled, but resigned himself to the situation and began to push Gareth's buttons instead. Tay put his arm around me and pulled my head onto his chest. This wasn't the most comfortable of positions, so I kicked off my trainers and lay with my head in his lap, feet propped on the end of the sofa.

Tay sighed and started running his fingers through my hair, my entire body relaxing. I smiled up at his gorgeous face that was looking down on me and smiled back.

"I can see right up your nose from down here."

Tay looked at me for a second, then we both burst out laughing.

"Shhh!" scolded Zac. "I'm trying to watch MTV?"

"Yeah, well you just try takin' me batteries out, Zac!"

"That an offer?"

We eventually settled down and watched the morning edition of MTV news, commenting on how dull and uninteresting Hanson's "Brothers and Sisters of Music" seemed to be today. That is until the last item.

"And news just in some of the roomers that have been circulating about the Hanson brothers may have some substance to them - more on this in our next show at two..."

We all fell silent.

"It's probably nothing," reasoned Ike. "Someone probably followed mom to the supermarket and found that Tay does use a red toothbrush..."

"Morning, guys," said Walker Hanson as he trotted down the steps into the garage.

"Morning, Dad!" greeted Tay, shortly followed by Ike and Zac.

"Where are you taking us?" grinned Zac, bouncing again at the thought that they were about to do something life-threatening.

"Hey, hold on there," smiled Walker. "I haven't met everyone yet! Looks like a slumber party in here!"

He wasn't far off, all the British lads being sprawled over their American counterparts.

"I already know Dean, and if memory serves this is Gareth," he said, looking a rather shy Gareth in the eye. Walker recognised the look from Ike's youth, and decided not to linger with him - for the moment, anyway.

"I'm Tony," grinned Tony, frowning slightly as he tried to extend his right hand but found it trapped between Ike and a beanbag. He gave up and extended his free left arm and received a firm left-handed handshake from a smiling Walker.

"So, what have you guys been up to while you've been away?"

"Weeeell, we went camping," replied Tay, the slight hesitation between the question and his answer causing Walker to raise his eyebrows knowingly, and Tay to blush.

"Zac and I managed to get our house master to join in a pillow fight," smiling at the recollection of Russell being beaten by a bunch of eleven and twelve-year-olds.

"Yeah," added Zac. "That guy was such a grouch, but he eventually came round..."

"I knew we should have sent that health-warning with you, Zac," smiled Walker, knowing only too well how Zac's exuberant nature often overwhelmed a room full of people, never mind an individual. That man was lucky to still be alive!

"OK, you've met everyone - so tell us we're going already!"

Walker sighed - he had wanted to keep it a secret until they got there, but there wasn't a hope in hell's chance of him managing to keep the car on the road with Zac all over him, not quitting until he got an answer.

"We're going to that new 'park-and-glide' centre a few miles south- east of here near Bixby - they have a set of four-man gliders, a coupe of Cessnas and some microlites. That reminds me - Tay, don't forget to bring your license or they won't let you and Dean up on your own..."

My heart practically bounced out of my mouth with excitement. "You have a pilots' license?!"

"Not exactly," smiled Tay. "I have one that says I can fly in a microlite or a glider without an Instructor as long as we're in radio contact with one on the ground?"

"SERIOUS? YOU NEVER TOLD ME!"

He smiled that mischievous grin. "You never asked!"

"God dammit Zac just SIT DOWN! We're nearly there..." yelled walker as he leapt from side to side of the Pontiac TransSport like he were a dog sniffing scent.

In the back was stacked the customary few cases of video gear to capture the event for posterity along with a positively huge packed lunch Diane had lovingly prepared, the size principally due to the fact that we had Zac with us.

This again was another huge first for me. I'd never flown until yesterday and here I was just about to take a flight a couple of thousand feet up in the air with my gorgeous boyfriend at the controls. Perfect!

My excitement was approaching Zac level as we took the exit that lead neatly onto 81st Street and the airfield. The Ministry of Transport could REALLY take some pointers from the states in my opinion...

We pulled up outside the modestly-sized hangar and piled out, Zac racing up to one of the Cessna trainers that was 'parked' (if that's the right term for a plane) nearest to us.

Tay, Ike and myself unloaded the car and stood excitedly as Walker announced our arrival to one of the staff.

The bloke who greeted us was definitely not the middle aged, just- starting-to-bald guy wearing black shades with gold frames we all had in mind as your stereotypical instructor. In fact, Steff (as we later learned) was the son of one of the other instructors and was nineteen. He was averagely tall, had an athletic build with a gentle face, and (when he wasn't wearing his mirrored ray-bans) had piercing blue eyes, framed by his centre parted, undercut light brown hair. Tay had to dig Ike and Spider in the ribs to get them to quit staring.

As he began his introductory spiel, he introduced himself and explained that his main area of expertise was the Microlites, and hence the gliders and the Cessnas would be left up to the others. He went through the standard safety procedures and the "what not to do" rigmarole as the insurers required. All the way through this, Walker was prancing about with one of the camcorders, yet managing to do it in a well practiced as-subtle-as-possible way.

Two other 'stereotypical' flight instructors walked over to us from the hangar, and were introduced as Kyle and Robert. Ike, Spider, Walker, Gareth and Zac were escorted off towards the glider and the Cessna, whilst we were left in Steff's capable hands.

"So," he smiled, exposing his pearly-white teeth, "I hear you got a training certificate?"

"Uh, yeah," said Tay, fishing the document out of the back pocket of his baggy jeans and handing it to Steff. He took a cursory glance at it over the top of his shades, then handed it back to Tay.

"Your Dad says he wants this filming, but I don't see how you dare take a camcorder up with you..."

"We'll just bolt them on - we haven't lost one yet, unless you count the time Zac wrapped his scrambler round a tree..."

Steff looked visibly intrigued, so Tay put him out of his misery by collecting the final flight case (how appropriate!) of camera gear from the back of the car. He flipped open the top to reveal three 1"x3"x5" camcorders and a set of universal clamp mounts. Expertly, Tay climbed into the microlite and attached one to the 'A' post just in front of the forward seat pointing at the seat itself, one on the crossbar over our heads pointing forwards, and the other directly beside it pointing back and down so that the back seat, engine and a rearwards view would be captured.

He located the intercom box that connected our headsets together and to the radio, and hooked it's 'line out' jack to the input of the camera that was facing him so that anything we said would be heard above the din of the engine and the wind. Finally, he hooked all three cameras up to another medium sized box that he taped securely behind my seat, then fastened the cables to the airframe with releasable zip ties.

"Have you done this before?" I grinned as he shoved the last connector into the back of 'my' camera. My joviality concealed the slight worry I had - this thing looked conspicuously like a frame tent (it was even the same colour!) with a lawn mower engine attached to the back - both objects which were fine on the ground, but would they serve as well at two thousand feet in the air?

Either Steff was very perceptive, or he had dealed with skeptical passengers before. "IT's quite safe, uh..."

"Dean,"

"Dean - it doesn't look like much, but it is very, very strong. More than strong enough to hold the two of you in a loop, anyway."

"Umm, with all due respect, this thing looks like it was made from a kit that comes with instructions along the lines of 'Take wing (a) and attach to fuselage (b) by securing with M4 bold (c), and tighten using cheap, supplied screwdriver (d)...'"

"It was made from a kit..."

HA! I knew it!"

"But it has been checked by one of the manufacturer's engineers and it passed with flying colours, so you've got nothing to worry about except this kid's flying."

Actually, that DID make me feel a whole lot better. After the garden thing, I now just trusted Tay implicitly, even when he did have that evil grin on his face.

"OK, Taylor - everything should be like the other microlites you've flown, but remember this one is a whole lot more powerful! You can afford to ease off on the gas once you're flying quite a lot, OK? If either of you need to talk to me, just push this red button here, OK?" he said, pointing at two buttons labeled "R-TX" on the sides of the seats. He picked up the helmets and chucked them at each of us, making sure that the straps were securely fastened.

"You got anything warmer than those sweaters?"

"Dammit no," scowled Tay, having forgotten how cold it got when you're up in the air.

"OK, hold on," Steff disappeared into the hangar and emerged a moment later with a pair of well-used leather jackets.

"I want these back," he smiled. "OK, Taylor, Dean - I've already done all the pre-flight checks so just get yourselves strapped in and then you're clear for takeoff on runway one-eight-zero..."

Tay positively leapt into the front seat and plugged the trailing wire from his helmet into the socket by the side of his head, and proceeded to connect the ends of the five-point harness. I climbed in behind him, not failing to notice the way the whole thing seemed to groan and bend under my weight, but decided that if Walker was comfortable with it, I guess it'd be OK.

Tay had settled in, and was busy aquatinting himself with the layout of the controls: The flight stick directly between his legs (lucky thing!) and the throttle and brakes by his heft hand. Steff put on his headset and scared the living crap outta me as his voice crackled into my ears at an unbelievable volume, causing both him and Tay to laugh.

"Foxtrot six-four-niner to Meadowbrook airfield: Steff, can you switch that switch on the black box behind Dean's seat, please, over."

"Meadowbrook to foxtrot six-four-niner: can do, Taylor. Radio test is loud and proud. Proceed to North end of runway and await clearance. Have fun, guys! Over."

Oh God, it was happening. Tay shoved the throttle over to full, twisted the Mags switch to "both" and pushed the starter. The flimsy craft shook violently from side to side for a couple of seconds shortly before the engine farted noisily into life, quickly returning to an idle as Tay throttled back.

"You ready?" asked Tay's bandwidth-limited voice through my headset, as he twisted around as much as his harness would allow - enough to see the immense excitement on his face.

"Uh, as ready as I'll ever be," I replied, shaking with both excitement and apprehension.

"OK, here goes"

The engine revved again as the throttle was gently opened, the microlite trundling over the shale onto the smooth tarmac surface of the main runway. We started to gently taxi down past the hangars, both waving violently to the others as we passed them, Walker racing out of their midst to get in a good position to capture our ascent.

We reached the white stripes at the end of the strip and did a leisurely U-turn, lining up for our take-off.

"Foxtrot six-four-niner to Meadowbrook: Request clearance for take- off."

"Meadowbrook to foxtrot six-four-niner" replied a new voice that I assumed was what could laughably be called air traffic control for the airfield "there is a slight 3-knott tail wind and conditions are clear - you are clear for take-off."

"Here goes,"

The engine spun up to its full revs as Tay gave it gas, the propeller behind me drumming the air causing my whole body to vibrate. This was soon accompanied by the rhythmic 'ker-thump' of the sections of runway passing underneath the wheels, the frequency getting higher and higher as we accelerated towards the hedge at the now-not-so-far end of the field. Suddenly, I felt a sickening lurch in my stomach as Tay pulled back on the stick, lifting first the nose wheel then the two rear wheels off the ground. We were flying.

I looked from left to right and saw the ground vanishing very quickly from beneath us. This was SO COOL!

I was speechless as we gracefully climbed into the air, leveling off after a couple of minutes. The roar of the wind and the vibration from the engine soon paled into insignificance as I drank up the unbelievable feeling of "defying" the law of gravity, and jumped as Tay's smooth voice burst into my headset once again.

"Ever see 'Flight of the Navigator'?"

"Huh?"

"The film 'Flight of the Navigator'..."

"Yeah, why?"

"Watch."

Tay banked to the right and descended towards the highway, gently following the road's right-hand curve round. It was so strange to look down and see the highway beneath us, the cars beneath us occasionally being eclipsed by the tiny shadow we cast on to them. We followed the highway due west, then broke off and banked right again as we approached the Arkansas River, dropping lower to tree height. It seemed so surreal - zapping along the river, getting literally a bird's eye view as Tay expertly piloted our little craft slap bang in the centre of the band of water.

"Umm, Tay - is that a bridge in front of us?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

A pause.

"Tay, you're not going to..."

"What do you think I am?"

"OK, just checking..."

I relaxed and began looking left and right again, enjoying the blur of the scenery. That is until I realised we were a whole lot closer to the water than we were a moment ago. I looked dead ahead to see the bridge flick across the top of the wing, and I had to twist around just to make sure I'd seen that right.

"TAYLOR! You said you weren't gonna do that!"

"No I didn't," came the very smug and equally as correct response. "Wanna go again?" he giggled.

I just smiled and shook my head, now too buzzed on adrenaline to actually object. Suddenly, Tay shoved the throttle hard open and yanked the stick back, sending the microlite into a forty-five degree climb whilst gently turning back on ourselves, the river literally dropping away beneath us.

"Foxtrot six-four-niner from Meadowbrook: How's it goin', Taylor?"

"I want one, over!" laughed Tay.

"Good, glad your enjoying yourself! Listen, your dad wants to catch up so he can film you in the air, OK? What is your position, over."

"We are about a half a mile north of the Jenks Bridge, climbing to nine-hundred feet, over."

"Acknowledged: The Cessna will be in the area in about three minutes, over."

"Thanks, Steff! Over and out."

We leveled out again, the engine returning to a more subdued level, gently circling. All of Tulsa could be seen, the sun glinting off some of the taller buildings in the CBD.

A couple of moments later, the Cessna roared past us, followed by Walker's voice in our headsets.

"Lookin' good there, son,"

"This is GREAT dad!"

"Hi Taylor this is Robert - can you speed up a bit? You're going a bit too slow for us to get a steady enough flight, over."

"Sure, man - I'll head back south down the river, over."

"A bit too slow?" I asked.

"You gotta remember we have all the aerodynamics of a Klingon's forehead! The Cessna is designed to fly a lot faster than we do: But this is way more fun!"

Tay turned us around and opened the throttle again, the Cessna easily catching us up, then stationholding on our starboard side. Everyone in the plane was waving frantically at us, Gareth and Zac fighting over who got the seat by the window on our side for the next half-second. Walker had the camera pointed directly at us, so we obliged him by waving back.

It was such a strange sensation flying side by side, almost as if we weren't moving, yet the roar of the wind dictating otherwise.

"Thanks, Taylor," continued Walker as he awkwardly clambered out of the front seat, only to be replaced by an inanely grinning Zac. "We're letting Zac fly for a while, so if we're lucky we'll see you back at Meadowbrook in an hour or so, OK? Over."

"Good luck, guys - you'll need it, over."

"Hey, that is NOT fair! I'm just as good as you are, Tay."

"Yeah, so why didja forget the 'over', moron? Over."

The laughter could be seen, but not heard.

"Whatever - I can go faster than you, OVER" smiled Zac at us as the Cessna pulled effortlessly away from us.

"We'll see you soon, over and out."

We followed the river south again, although this time steadily climbing, the air becoming noticeably colder the higher we climbed.

"You strapped in well, Dean?"

I tugged at the belt tensioners over my shoulders and ensured the centre fastener was in the 'locked' position.

"Yeah, why?"

"Just checkin'"

"WOAAAAAAHHHHSHIIIIIITT!" I yelled as Tay yanked the stick hard left, barrel-rolling us and then going into a steep dive, then pulling back and doing a loop-the-loop before returning to the steady climb.

Chapter Thirty

"So, what did you think, Dean?" asked walker as we drove back towards the Hansons' home.

"That was bloody brilliant!" I exclaimed, not being able to remove the grin from my face as I recalled being chucked around in the air by Tay.

"Can we go again?" asked Zac who was in an equally hyper state.

"I'm sure we will," confirmed Walker. "I wanna see what those two got up to when we get back," he grinned.

"You should like it, dad,"

"Huh?"

"The video tapes, remember?"

"Oh yeah... " Damn - I'd been caught screaming as he'd pulled off those aerobatics the first time...

We turned into the road, only to be confronted by what could only be described as a scary sight. Stood outside the house on the front lawn were about half a dozen news teams from assorted networks including CNN and MTV.

"Uh oh - get down people," said walker as he completely bypassed the house and drove straight on up the street. Once he had turned the corner, he pulled over and pulled his mobile from his coat pocket.

"Diane honey where are you? OK, good - stay there until I call you - we've got the media swarming over the house... Yes, we're all fine - they haven't spotted us yet. Umm, I don't know - something's certainly stirred them up. I think we're just gonna have to try and get the van into the garage - there's no way we could make it to the door in time. Can you call the police and security? OK, thanks... Yes, we'll be careful. Love you..."

Walker hung up and took a very deep breath. "Ike, is there anything blocking any of the garage doors?"

"The left is blocked - go for the middle one, you'll only get a couple of beanbags."

"OK, which of you three is the fastest runner?"

"Uh, I guess I am," replied Tony.

"OK - here're the house keys - get to the back of the house and let yourself in by the back door. Don't bother about the alarm - once it goes off it'll call for security anyway. Get down to the garage and open the middle door when you hear us coming, OK? And if you can, try not to be seen."

"OK." Tony took the keys from Walker and was just about to leg it when he had a thought. "Which one is it?"

"That one," he said, pointing to a security-lock type key. "Good luck. We'll be down in exactly two minutes."

Tony nodded and pegged it off round the corner and back towards the huge crowd of people trampling over the Hansons' front lawn. He noticed the little alleyway between the houses and dived down in, hoping it would somehow get it to the back of the houses. He breathed a sigh of relief as he managed to work out where he was, and ran towards the gate in the hedge that led through to their back yard. Hurdling over the flower boarders, he landed against the back door and shoved the key into the lock, preying it was the right one. Much to his relief, the key went into the lock and turned with a reassuring clunk as the bolt withdrew from the doorframe. As he entered, the alarm panel by the door started beeping at him, prompting him to enter the disarm code, but he had to ignore it. He shut and locked the door from the inside and rattled down the stairs into the garage. Being disoriented for a moment, he looked around, breathing hard, trying to think what he was supposed to be doing. Somehow, he had managed to work himself up and felt as if he were Indiana Jones leaping through the temple of doom, the media circus outside being the evil, head- hunting natives. He saw the door opener, went over to it and pushed the middle door's "OPEN" button. The door began to creek and groan as the motor, being asked to perform twice in the same day, whinged and complained as it oh-so-slowly wound the door up.

And not a moment too soon: The TransSport bounced over the slight curb into the driveway sending a camera crew diving for their lives and screeched into the garage, Walker miraculously managing to keep the vehicle on target as the tyres scrabbled for grip.

Tony hit the down button the moment they were inside, the motor much preferring the task of lowering the door, doing so quite quickly.

The engine stopped and everything went desperately quiet, save for the manic whistling of the alarm in the background.

Walker slowly pulled himself out of the driver's seat, then opened the sliding door to let us out.

"Any idea what they're after?"

None of us could honestly think of a reason why the media were suddenly so interested in them once again.

"I think we could probably find out," said Ike as he walked over to the TV and switched it on. He began to channel-hop, flicking through the available stations trying to find something relavent - which was difficult at the best of times. An image flicked on the screen for a second that seemed familiar, so he stopped flicking and backed up a channel or two until he saw it again.

Seven mouths dropped open as the crystal clear image of what was unmistakably Taylor and myself rolling around in his back garden, being 'just a bit more than friendly'. The image froze at what I would have considered a beautiful picture of Tay kissing me, but in this context it was damning. The picture then shrunk to the standard news- size box in the top left-hand corner of the screen with the caption "Roomers revealed".

I turned to look at Tay, but instead of seeing the look of utter horror and fright on his face, he was smiling an ever-increasing smile. He looked back at me to see the quizzical look on my face.

"We don't have to hide any more," he whispered, taking my hand and squeezing it.

"Yeah, but what about your fans?"

"If they're real fans, they'll stay put."

I looked over at Walker: Now there was a worried man. He didn't seem emotional, just worried, and that concerned me slightly. He pulled his phone from his pocket and slowly dialed a number, then held it to his ear with a slightly shaking hand.

"Hi Chris? It's Walker... Are you watching MTV? Well I think you ought to..."

"Silence once again fell across us as the video of Tay and I rolling around on the grass was played once again.

"Well?" asked a concerned Walker to the group's manager. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, DENY IT?! Chris they were as good as having sex there!"

I could faintly hear the voice on the other end of the line. "Well, there's nothing there to suggest that they were doing anything more than ho... Oh."

He stopped short as Tay and I began kissing.

"So?"

"What can we do? The secret's out, though I have the feeling it won't come as too much of a surprise..."

"WHAT?!"

"Walker, take a stroll down real street for a moment, OK? Ever since MMMBop was released people have been calling people Taylor gay, and when have you EVER heard your son DENY it, huh? Give me one example."

Walker opened his mouth to say something, but words failed him miserably, so he shut it again.

"Perhaps Tay ought to speak to them himself, he's done it before..."

Walker looked over at his son, who was now grinning widely.

"But he's never done anything like that before,"

"Yes he has, you just didn't know about it."

Walker decided he needed a long talk with his son, but not before something had been done about the hoards outside.

"Taylor, Chris thinks it'd be a good idea if you went to talk to them... Do you want to?"

Tay didn't answer, but just ran over to the stairs and bounded up them, me in tow.

As we approached the front door, Tay stopped and turned to face me, holding me by my shoulders.

"Are you sure you want to do this," he asked. "You're just as much a part of it now as I am... You reckon you can deal with celeb status?" he asked, a hint of anguish in his voice, dreading me giving a negative answer. The idea of being a 'normal' gay couple in the sense it didn't matter who knew about it seemed extremely appealing, and so what if everyone in the world knew about it? I wanted to shout it out to them anyway! As for the reporters, as long as they respected our privacy from time to time, we'd respect their insatiable need for information, even if we did give them dis-information...

I hung my arms over his shoulders and brushed the stray hair out of his left eye. "Yes."

Tay looked as if he desperately needed to say something, his eyes starting to go shiny as they betrayed the beginnings of tears, so I kissed him, hoping the old proverb of actions speaking louder than words held true.

We parted, both of us feeling like this would mark the final event in our becoming one with each other. Tentatively, Tay reached for the deadlock and unbolted it, removed the door chain and finally twisted the handle, exposing us to the outside world.

It took only a second: "THERE THEY ARE!"

Moments later, a few kilowatts of light was directed at us, punctuated by camera flashes from all directions, causing us both to squint as no-one had actually bothered to turn on the lights inside. Microphones from all directions were thrust at us, adorned with three letter logos that all seemed alike to me and, of course, there was the sound. Multiple voices all asking questions simultaneously, no individual one being audible over the others until the hoards decided that someone's question was of greater importance than their own, a single voice being allowed to speak.

"Taylor, do you deny the allegations made against you?" asked an Fox News correspondent.

Tay looked at me and grinned. He was going to have some fun with this.

"And what allegations would those be?"

"That you are homosexual." Damn - even British reporters aren't that direct!

"If it were an allegation, I'd be expected to deny it. What has been said is true."

Silence. Wonderful! Taylor had well and truly pissed on their strawberries by stealing the argument they were expecting to have: Presenting him with the supporting evidence and then moving in for the kill. But the bastard had just admitted it! Bloody excellent!

There was a mad rustling of paper as three or four pages were skipped in several notebooks, presumably to get to the 'when he finally admits it' stage.

"Taylor! Taylor, When did you know that you were gay?"

"When did you know you were straight? Assuming you are, of course..."

This was excellent...

"Um, I... I've always known..."

"So have I."

"Taylor! Why didn't you say something before this?"

"No-one asked me. Besides, you don't just go around introducing yourself by saying 'Hi, my name's Taylor and I'm gay' now do you?"

"How did you meet Dean?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

Thanks, Tay...

It's a strange sensation having fifteen or so video lenses pointed at you, and an even stranger one to think that a few million people may be hanging on every word you say. I was scared shitless!

"Uh, we, err... we met by chance on the Eurostar."

"It was a real anti-climax, you know?" said Tay, me thankful he had the spotlight once again. "I was just sat there and the most gorgeous guy I'd ever seen walks straight by me without even looking twice! Dean says that he thought it couldn't possibly be me, but I'm sure he was just playing hard-to-get."

They laughed! They actually laughed! This was a very good sign - they were on our side!

"After the train thing we went to an amusement park in England and spent a couple of days there and things kinda... well, worked!"

"Are you worried that this'll have a bad effect on Hanson?"

"Not at all - I'm still the same guy I always was: You just know a bit more about me."

"Is this a long-term thing with you and Dean?"

This question seemed to anger Tay slightly - hell, it did me too!

"Let me put it this way: We've been together for quite a few months now, and things just keep getting better and better. You'll be the first one to know the moment anything happens, darling," said Tay, pursing his lips and raising his eyebrows at the gangly reporter who blushed a very bright crimson and backed into the crowd, much to the amusement of everyone else.

"Well, guys, we've had a hard day..." was that innuendo intended?! "...and we'd just like to relax a while now, if we could. I'm sure there'll be another chance to talk to us very soon, OK?"

"Taylor! Dean! Before you go, can we have a kiss?"

We both smiled and drew close to each other, then kissed another deep, long kiss accompanied by an overture of camera shutters.

We parted, waved at the media, and went back into the house to see Walker standing there, finally smiling again. Tay closed the door then ran into his Dad's arms. "I'm proud of you, son," he said in the way only an American father can, then looked over at me.

"Well?" he smiled as he held out an arm. I too was hugged.

"You were so cool," said Tay as I gently squeezed his bollocks through his boxers. We were lying in bed, once again unable to sleep after the evening's excitement.

"Huh? I just stood there! I think I said six words!"

"You could've said nothing and still been cool," he said, maneuvering on top of me so his boxer-clad hard-on was pushing firmly against mine. "You can just walk into a room and exude coolness." We both just looked at each other for a second then burst out laughing.

"You don't half talk some shit sometimes,"

"So let's quit talking," he said, thrusting into me and planting his moist lips over mine, his tongue drilling deep into my mouth. I let my fingers scrape down his back and into his boxers, allowing my thumbs to hook over the waistband and start to pull them down over his firm arse. His hardon was trapped inside, however, so I wormed a hand in between us and carefully guided the elastic over the end of his hot dick. He shuddered as he felt my touch, now on his bare flesh, and began to maniacally pump into me whilst sucking and gently biting all over my face, neck and chest. It was as if all the pent-up anguish and aggression caused by having to hide who he really was from the world in general had been directly converted into sex drive - and it was being well and truly driven into me!

I yanked my own boxers down and squirmed at the amazing feeling of Tay's firm, hot, sweaty bollocks mashing against my own. As if acting on an unspoken command, we both realised we needed to 'prepare' for the act ahead so Tay shuffled himself around, and gently located his dick in my mouth, my nose being nearly intoxicated by the wonderful smell his balls were generating. Tay, meanwhile, had given my nads a single strong lick right from the tip of my dick to the base of my bollocks and had now got his hands under my arse and was spreading my cheeks. He continued his lick until he reached my hole, then began to push and swirl his tongue around causing me to instinctively 'wink' at him. He soon had my back door relaxed and could easily slide his tongue in and out making me squirm with intense feelings once again.

I continued to suck vigorously on Tay's velvety-soft shaft and could now just about guage when he was getting ready to shoot by the way his balls would move over my nose and his dick throb even more urgently than it was doing right now.

I suddenly realised that two fingers had now replaced Tay's tongue, and they were easily pistoning out of my now-well lubricated backside. Every time we did this, it seemed to get easier as if our bodies were becoming more adept at receiving six or so inches of horny teenager up the backside, anticipating the pleasure and therefore lubricating itself, though not to the extent that the tonguing session could be forgone.

All too soon, Tay pulled his fingers from me, and gently pulled himself out of my mouth. My brain was screaming to have something back in the newly vacated holes, so as he got up I grabbed the hand that had been finger fucking me and sucked on his fingers, getting a strange pleasure from tasting myself on him. He actually got off the bed, then pulled me up to, then nicked my place.

The sight of him sprawled on the bed with his dick fully erect and pointing due north was nearly enough to make me shoot my load spontaneously then and there, but I desperately held back, dick bucking and lurching as I attempted the near impossible.

"Ride me," he said, spreading his legs as wide as he could. Even though we'd done it so many times, the novelty certainly had not worn off: I was just as excited, nervous and full of anticipation as I was in the master suite back in the hotel. Taylor was beyond beauty in my mind now - to my eyes he was perfect, everyone and everything else in the world coming a rather pathetic second when compared with him.

Gently, I straddled him as he held his steel-hard shaft vertically and closed my eyes with anticipation as his dick head made contact with the soft tissue of my arsehole. I started to lower myself on to him, marveling in the feeling of his flared head pushing its way into me. We both groaned as the sensations washed over us, Tay's hands running gently up and down my arms serving to amplify the situation a hundred fold, his deep breaths evaporating the light sheen of sweat from my smooth, taught chest.

I soon felt my balls come into contact with Tay's wiry pubic hair, tickling them exquisitely as they nestled deeper into it. Now fully impaled on Tay, I could let my weight rest on his hips and use my hands to explore his upper body, running them over his subtle pecs and pinching his nipples. Tay also was busy exploring, practically mirroring my actions on him. Our eyes had locked again, transferring that indescribable flow of emotion and energy. Keeping my gaze exactly where it was, I gently began to rock my hips, so causing Tay's dick to slide in and out very slightly. He opened his mouth and let out a silent groan, smiling widely. I had to smile with his because of the intense pleasure his dick was inflicting on my insides - the movement may have only been slight, but it was more than enough to send my prostate into overdrive, a small river of sticky pre-cum flowing from the end of my dick. Tay jumped on this fact and began to smear it over my dick, the quantity being sufficient for him to touch my exposed head without it hurting.

I'm not sure how long we were like that, but I never wanted it to end. We were warm, close, together... one. Throughout the three- quarters of an hour or so we were coupled like that I continued my slight rocking, bringing us both incrementally further towards our respective climaxes with each slight movement. It felt as if we were both harder than we had ever been before, and the 'pressure' building up inside seemed unbelievable.

Then it happened.

Without speeding up or making my thrusts pronounced, I felt Tay squirt a huge gob of cum into me, then he stopped. He looked at me quizzically, then I did a similar thing, shooting such a long rope of cum it seemed as if I was pissing it out. It arched through the air and landed squarely on Tay's lower face and chest. The squeezing of my arsehole on his dick coaxed a second load from him then, as if something snapped, he began to pump his hips against me and fire a volley of short, powerful squirts into my bowels. This sudden cum frenzy set me off, launching into orgasm-proper with (forgive the pun) gay abandon, my cum flying out of my violently swinging dick as if it were an unmanned fire hose.

Tay shut his eyes and smiled as he felt my cum rain down on his fit body, smearing it over his nipples and chest and then scooped some up and sensuously licked the thick, sticky ropes from his fingers.

I lowered myself down to him and arched my back to try and lick as much of my own cum off him as I could without dislodging the thing that was giving me so much pleasure from my backside. I moved further up and laced my tongue round the cum-soaked leather of his chokers, my own decorations making him squirm as the cold metal tickled his bare flesh. We both sighed contentedly in the wonderful glowy feeling that always followed one of our 'sessions', feeling as if the world could end right then and we wouldn't notice, and even if we did we wouldn't give a damn. Our minds had melded and formed a barrier around us, impenetrable by anyone, even old Father Time himself. The worries we had had about being apart seemed so insignificant now. I wrapped my arms around my Taylor and nuzzled into his long, shiny locks of hair and hugged him tightly to me. We were one, and that's the way it was going to stay - we just knew that.

Slowly we both drifted into a deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep, comforted by the sounds of our hearts beating in time to each other. True love: ain't it wonderful?

Chapter Thirty-One

"It almost seems a shame to wake them... Oh Walker they just look so happy," crooned Diane as she and her husband looked over us as we slept, Tay behind me with his arm draped over my chest. It was true: we were both smiling in our sleep - not dreaming, but just feeling good knowing we had each other.

"Yeah, I know," smiled Walker. "To be honest I didn't quite know what to think about Tay being gay, but seeing him with Dean... It's as if they bring out the very best in each other, ya know?"

"Mmm," she smiled as she hugged her husband round the waist, feeling that same sense of security from him as we did from each other. "We'd better get them up to see their fans, though,"

Walker knelt down by the bed and shook us both gently to rouse us from the deep sleep we were both in. After a minute or so, we both yawned, groaned, scratched and stretched ourselves back into the land of the living.

"Morning, dad," smiled Tay as his blurred vision immediately recognised the fuzzy outline of his Father.

"Morning, Romeo," he teased. "You have some people outside wanting to talk to you."

"Ugh! Not the press again..."

"Err, no, actually - fans."

We looked at each other quizzically as Tay pulled himself out of bed and stumbled over to the window, not failing to trip over a stray rollerblade as he did so.

"Oh my GOD! Dean! Look at this!"

I too tripped out of bed and landed against Tay, using him as a support as my legs still hadn't quite decided that they were capable of supporting me just yet.

Outside was yet another crowd of people, but this time they were a whole lot younger than the media mob that was there yesterday, and in a stereotypical double take glance, noticed that the overwhelming majority was male!

"Go speak to your public," grinned Walker.

We both dived for our discarded clothes that were strewn around the room and pulled them on, just finding time to drag a brush through each other's hair before we trampled down the stairs and out of the front door.

"THERE THEY ARE!"

Now this was good - thirty-odd males in their mid-teens waving signs and Hanson merchandise, screaming at us. But it didn't sound quite right: amongst the "I LOVE YOU TAYLOR"s was something else... Something that sounded... Bloody hell! "I LOVE YOU DEAN!"

I looked over at Tay and he just shrugged back. "Can't say that I blame them... After you," he said, motioning towards the crowd with a sweep of his left arm. I was so nervous I practically tripped down the couple of steps onto the path. Within moments, we were completely surrounded by a frenzy of gay teenage lads, all scuffling to get something autographed, touched or, as seemed more the case, to touch us. It seemed so strange to have all these guys surrounding you, and to know that each and every one of them was either gay or bi. Tay had the upper hand here in that he was used to crowds of teenagers after his autograph and virginity (little did they know...), but the fact that they were all MALE was very, very new to him, so in that respect we were on level ground.

"Tay! Dean! Over here!" yelled a very pronounced voice from the edge of the crowd, so naturally we looked. A well built blonde kid and a cute red-head met our gaze, then grinned at each other, turned round and dropped their kegs to reveal a set of well-defined arse cheeks, the words "Mack and Spen" on one and "Taylor and Dean" on the other. We were slightly confused as to the meaning of this rather delightful show of clansmanship until the red-head produced a sign with a big "4" on it and held it between their arses.

Tay grinned at me and, borrowing a marker from one of the laughing crowd, ran up to them and promptly autographed a buttock each. This was too good to miss, so I followed suit and signed my name on the opposite cheek to Tay,

The two lads stood up again, now beet red, and smiled sheepishly at us as they deftly pulled their lower garments into their proper positions. None of us failed to notice the impressive tents in the front of their trousers either...

We decided to turn our attention back to the rest of the crowd who were now kicking themselves for lacking the initiative to scrawl a message over some other body parts, but just as we were moving away, Tay quickly whispered something into the blonde guy's ear creating a look of shock on his face. Tay smiled and bounded up to me, and we continued along the steady stream of nick nacks that were presented to us.

After a half hour or so and quite a few photos (again some others visibly kicking themselves for not bringing a camera) we decided to call it a day and head back into the solace of the house, but not before Tay addressed the crowd, simply bringing a finger to his lips to induce silence amongst them.

"OK, hands up who's had troubs finding a boyfriend for one reason or another... C'mon, we're all guys here," he grinned. Practically every hand in the crowd bar Mack and Spen's cautiously wavered into the air.

"Yup, thought so... Seeing as you're all here, may I suggest you swap phone numbers with a cute guy? You never know..." he smiled, and with that he threw his arm round my neck and we both disappeared back into the house.

"Now that was a good idea."

"What?"

"Getting those guys to swap numbers! I reckon you've just made at least six couples in as many seconds!"

"Yeah, well..."

"You know I'm convinced you could do a lot of good for other guys - hell, or girls - like us you know. Might actually give people the courage to be who they are rather than who society wants them to be."

"I guess so... But we're meeting a couple of people first,"

"Who?"

Tay just smiled.

"D'you think he really meant it?" asked the red-head as he and his blonde partner skulked rather suspiciously just out of sight of the reluctantly dispersing crowd, aided in their decision by a small security detachment.

"Mackie, the guy practically had his tongue in my ear when he said it! Believe me he meant it!" repeated Spencer's smooth adolescent voice. He couldn't remember why he was always referred to by his surname, but he was used to it, and Spen was certainly a lot easier to pronounce than Eugene.

"What do you think they'll be like?" enthused Macaulay, nearly shaking with anticipation now. He was another guy who had a contracted name, mainly due to the fact that he was named after, in his opinion, possibly one of the most obnoxious kids on the planet and was not eager to advertise the fact. Him looking not dissimilar to the Mr. Culkin in question did little to help matters either...

"I got no idea whatsoever! I just hope they're not all, like, rich and snobby..."

Both boys' heads snapped round as a shrill whistle pierced the air.

"Would you PLEASE give me just a little warning before you do that?" I said, making a big show of rubbing the ear nearest to Tay as he withdrew his fingers from his mouth.

He grinned back at me as we walked down the now fan-less street looking for Mack and Spen.

"You're just jealous because you can't do such a goddamn awesome whistle."

"Teach me, then."

"OK, get your thumb and pinkie..."

"My pinkie?"

"Your LITTLE FINGER, shove them in your mouth and, like, blow..."

"So I have to blow my pinkie?"

"You have a one track mind," he smiled.

"I'd much rather blow your pinkie,"

"Point proven! Perhaps you can," and with that he leapt onto my back, causing me to stagger sideways into a tree.

"OK, open your mush,"

I did so and he carefully inserted a couple of fingers on his right hand.

"OK, now blow... I said blow, not lick!"

"Sowwy,"

I blew over his fingers and, much to my surprise, a similar ear- drum-shattering whistle was hurled forth from my mouth.

"Now you just have to learn to do it with your own fingers!"

"Much more fun blowing your pinkie, though,"

Tay hugged me even tighter than he was already doing and kissed my neck. "Hey, there they are... GUYS!"

Two very nervous-looking lads appeared from round the corner and practically froze on the spot as we approached. I was stumbling from side to side as Tay desperately tried to overbalance us, and just as he reached them he managed it and sent us careering into them, finally coming to rest in a giggling heap on the sidewalk.

Tay and I picked ourselves up, then extended a hand each to our rather overcome guests who were still lying dazed on the concrete.

"OK, so who's who?" asked Tay.

"Uh, I'm Spen, and this is Mack," stammered Spen as the supporting hand turned into a handshake.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Tay and this is my stallion, Dean," he grinned.

"What were you saying about one-track minds?"

"What ever could you be referring to, Mr. Lidster? Come in, guys... Have you eaten?"

Both lads shook their heads no.

"Good, then you can join us."

Back in the house, Diane looked slightly disconcerted to see another pair of new faces having only just got used to us lot, but nevertheless managed to squeeze in another two places at the already overcrowded table.

Although distinctly nervous to begin with, the naturally exuberant and bubbly atmosphere that was the Hanson household soon had it's normal effect and brought Mack and Spen well and truly out of their shells, laughing and joking with the rest of us.

As it turned out, they were both from across town and went to the Bishop Kelley high school. They had met a month or so ago in detention: Spen for favouring football practice over homework and Mack?

"I'd rather be at school than at home right now... I'd rather be ANYWHERE than home."

It was as if someone had had hit the "mute" button, even Zac and Gareth falling silent.

"Whaddya mean, Mack," asked Tay, hastily swallowing his lump of toast.

"Uh, it's nothing, honest..."

"It doesn't sou..."

"It's NOTHING," interrupted Spen in a tone that was not to be argued with.

"Listen, we'd better get going. Thanks, Mrs. Hanson, Tay, Dean... This was really cool."

This wasn't right. If I had been in their position I'd have dropped ANYTHING to do what they were doing right now, only leaving when I was physically booted out the door, but here they were seeing themselves off. I was going to find out about this one way or another.

"Hey before you go, how about a photo?"

Tay had obviously been thinking along similar lines and wholeheartedly backed up the suggestion. The idea of having material evidence of our meeting soon penetrated the layer of concern that had fallen over Mack and Spen, a smile soon returning to their faces.

Subtly trying to get the others to stay at the breakfast table (no mean feat) we steered Mack and Spen down to the basement hoping that there being just the four of us may allow them to shed some light on what Mack had meant. Tay rummaged around in one of the cupboards and retrieved a battered Polaroid camera and set it on the edge of the steps and pushed the "self timer" button. He quickly jumped over the couple of beanbags to us and squeezed in so that he and I were in between Mack and Spen.

"OK, everyone say 'Cumsucker'" grinned Tay.

About half of the word passed their lips before shock set in as their brains actually realised what he'd said, the camera exposing the frame simultaneously producing a photo of two very surprised lads, and two pissing themselves with laughter between them.

We decided that that was rather unfair, so we took another couple just to make sure. The final frame involved Mack and Spen dropping their kegs once again to allow us to 'sign' their buttocks once more.

Tay gathered up the pile of Polaroids, flapping them to try and get them to develop more quickly before we signed them. He flipped one of them over and scribbled what I assumed to be his mobile number on the back.

"Look, Mack, I know it's not my job to pry but... Um... What did you mean by you'd rather be anywhere but home right now?"

Spen drew breath ready to interject at the direction Tay had steered the conversation in, but Mack suppressed his objection with an almost pleading look.

"I told my dad I was gay, and he..." Mack had to stop to sniff as the tears welled up inside him. "And he... he said he didn't want to know me any more..."

"Oh, Mack," sympathised Tay, hugging the now sobbing red-head to him. "I'm sorry... Is there anything we can do?"

"I don't think there's anything anyone can do... I guess I've just got to sit it out. I don't know what I'd do it Spen wasn't around - without him I guess I'd be on the street by now. I can only go home whenever dad isn't there coz if I do, he hits me and then my mom tries to stop him and then he hits her and... and..."

Spen looked at us with pleading eyes. "We can't afford to feed an extra mouth... My dad died before I was born and my mom has been ill recently. We didn't have any medical insurance so the hospital bills kinda cleared us out..."

He too was on the verge of breaking down into tears, obviously torn between the well being of his mother and that of his young lover. A choice no-one should ever be made to take...

"Stay here," said Tay, already half way up the stairs.

"Taylor, we can't just take in people like this... If we take one then we'd have to take everyone that turned up on our doorstep! Besides it's expensive to feed another kid... I'm sorry, son, but I have to say no."

"Oh, right, as if we can't afford it! Damn I forgot we could only just easily live off the royalties alone... Dad this is a fourteen- year-old kid we're on about here, not some bum who's messed his whole life up, although that's what he could turn into if we don't do anything..."

"Taylor..."

"Look, Dad, we get all this cash in from the music and we already have more than we could ever possibly need: This is a one-off, and it probably won't be long term. What harm can it do, huh?"

Walker sighed. "OK, OK, but you'd better not make this a habit, got it?"

Tay's smile virtually reached his ears as he ran and hugged his Father then legged it back down to the garage.

"How does that kid do that?"

"What's that, honey?" teased Diane.

"That! Ask a question where I say 'no' and then manage to squeeze a 'yes' out of me one way or another..."

"I'm not sure it is him... Perhaps you just care about people."

"I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I don't think I would unless it was for Tay. That kid's heart is made from solid gold... I'm gonna have a chat with a friend of mine - I have an idea that Tay should approve of."

"We can WHAT?!"

"You can stay here for as long as you need to, or want to as long as you don't tell my dad!"

"You're kidding, right?"

"I wouldn't joke about someone's dad beating the crap outta them,"

Mack flopped down onto the beanbag nearest to him, almost white with shock.

"Is there anything you need from home? I can get us a lift over there if you want,"

"Yeah, but my dad's home right now - I don't want to cause any trouble..."

"I have a good way of stopping trouble: Gimme a minute and then we'll get going."

The TransSport swung deftly into Mack's driveway on the other side of town with Will at the wheel.

Mack looked at Tay warily, not sure if he wanted to do this as the last time he'd been home at the same time as his father, he had felt insanely lucky to escape with all his bones still in tact.

"Don't worry, man - Will'll look after you."

Mack got out of the car with Will close behind him, us instructed to keep at a "safe distance". Mack retrieved his keychain from his pocket and pushed it into the lock, but it wouldn't turn.

"He's changed the locks,"

"FUCK OFF YOU PIECE OF QUEER HOMO SHIT!" yelled a voice from inside. Tay and I had to hold Spen in his seat to prevent him from speaking his mind.

"Sir, your son requires access to property that is rightfully his," stated Will to the unreasonable sod on the other side of the door.

"TELL HIM HE CAN GO GET FUCKED BY THAT PUSSY FRIEND OF HIS. NOW PISS OFF!"

"Stand back, son," said Will, backing up a few feet. He took a deep breath then literally fly-kicked the door, sending it smashing into the face of Mack's dad who landed in a crumpled heap against the wall.

"Woah!" both Spen and I exclaimed as the door yielded under Will's attack.

"I told you he didn't mess around..."

Will 'stood guard' over Mack's dad to allow him to retrieve all of his bits and pieces and as many clothes as he could squeeze into his rucksack and was just about to leave when he spotted the picture of him and Spen on his bedside cabinet. The glass had been smashed. Clenching his fists hard, he just stood for a few moments to let his anger subside. He bit his lip and shook the few remaining shards of glass from the frame, gently retrieving the photo and placing it in his bag. Why did his dad blame him for all this? They got along so well before he came out to him: Now it was as if he was the devil incarnate...

He walked slowly back to the front door to witness his Dad coming round. He seemed slightly flustered momentarily, but the snarl that must've been on his face when it connected with the door soon returned.

"You finally gonna leave us straights in peace?"

Mack nodded slowly.

"About fuckin' time. Go 'play' with your faggot friends."

"Dad, I..."

"Don't call me that. No freakin' way would any son of mine turn out to be some fudge-packin' homo!"

Any remaining determination that Macaulay had to reconcile with his father was completely smashed my this statement. As the person that was once his father said, he was no longer his son. He had been disowned.

The ride back to Fort Hanson was quiet to say the least: Mack could do nothing but sob quietly to himself with Spen doing his level best to comfort him, but it seemed as if there was nothing even he could do. From what we could gather, Mack had been very close to his father, spending many an hour with him and enjoying a stereotypically strong father-son bond. They spent so much time together, in fact, that his mother almost seemed like 'the other member of the family', his dad doing the majority of caring and worrying over him.

It was because of this unique closeness that Mack felt fairly uninhibited in telling his father that he was gay, if anything worrying about what his mother would think having always been told by his father that "no matter what you do, we'll always stand by you, son".

The emotional shock of his father doing a complete U-turn and considering him a waste of skin was, therefore, damning to say the least. Everything he had ever known to be true was brought into question, no longer being able to distinguish between the truths and the potentially huge number of lies his parents had told him.

Tay and I did our level best to try and help them in any way we could, but eventually decided that giving them time to themselves would probably be the best bet.

We mooched back into the bedroom, leaving Mack and Spen talking quietly in the Garage, and sat down on our (as it had now become) bed.

"Do you think they'll be OK?"

"We can but hope," replied a very concerned Taylor. "We can but hope..."

Mack looked at his watch in the hard orange glow of the street lamp. 1:23am. He dug his hand into his trouser pocket and retrieved a bashed-up ten-dollar bill, which he handed to the taxi driver. As the green and white cab sped off into the distance, Mack shivered as he felt the cold night air easily cutting through his thin shirt. He felt more alone now than he had ever done in his entire life.

He had been lying in the warm garage, unable to sleep as his mind churned over the events of the day. He simply could not come to terms with the way his father was treating him. Perhaps he was ill... Yeah, that must be it. He himself knew he never could make any sensible decisions when he was feeling off colour... Then again, his dad must've been feeling off colour for the last month and a half.

Pushing that flaw in his reasoning to the back of his mind, he walked towards the dimly lit porch of his house and rang the doorbell, knowing it would be useless to try his key. Not a lot happened for a couple of minutes and he was just about to give up when the landing light came on, and the thin form of his mother appeared silhouetted against the frosted glass a moment later. The bolt was pulled back and the door opened to reveal the weathered but kind face of his mom, her eyes ringed red from crying and a slight bruise on her cheek.

She looked at him disbelievingly for a moment as if it was not possible for him to be there, then hugged him close to her, kissing the top of his head.

"You have to go," she whispered, the tears still very close to the surface in her voice. "He'll go AWOL again if he sees you."

"I have to talk to him, mom," protested Mack, pushing himself back slightly, yet still in the reassuring grasp of his mother.

"Who is it, Irene?" slurred the voice of his obviously drunk father. "Well look at that, it's the faggot. What are you doing here faggot? How can you hold him, Irene? How can you even bare looking at him?"

"He's our son, Paul..."

"The fuck he is,"

"He's just a boy," she continued, walking over to her husband. "He needs us, Paul: We're his parents..."

"You're taking his side, aren't you? WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU! He's a FAG!" he yelled, lunging towards Mack.

"Paul!" Yelled Mack's mom, doing her best to hang on to her bulldozer of a husband as he tanked towards their thin son, now looking even younger and more susceptible than ever.

"Get OFFA ME!" he yelled, flinging the arm his wife was hanging on to backwards. His strength was such that she was thrown back too, and as she did so, she tripped on one of Paul's discarded shoes, falling backwards, her head just clipping the edge of the glass coffee table knocking her unconscious.

"MOM!" Yelled Mack, diving past his father to the inert form lying before him.

"Get away from her!" he slurred. "If you weren't here, none of this would have happened. It's all your fault..."

The rest of his sentence paled into insignificance as he noticed the well cared for Glock that had been on the coffee table lying by his mother's head. Without thinking, Mack picked it up and waved it at his father.

"Just SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP! WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE TO YOU, HUH? WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO GODDAMN MUCH?" he yelled, the barrel shaking violently due to the immense amount of adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Not taking his eyes off his ex-father for a moment, Mack stood up gently and picked up the phone and dialed 911.

"Police... Yeah my dad just assaulted my mom... She's unconscious..."

"That's right, go and rat on your old man like the little pussy you are..."

Mack dropped the phone and pointed the gun hard back at his father.

"What are you gonna do, pussyboy? Shoot me? Look in the mirror..."

A look of uncertainty flashed across Mack's face.

"Why don't you make life easy for all of us, huh? Do what we all want and shoot your friggin' self. It'd sure save me a job, your mom too... Yeah, she makes out like she 'loves' you, but she don't like queers either. You're just a pissant little queerboy who nobody loves, pretending he's good for something. You make me sick..."

"Spen loves me," mumbled Mack, the image of his good-looking boyfriend floating before his mind's eye.

"Yeah, right. The guy's probably a looser when it comes to girls so he decided to use you for a quick fuck whenever he wanted. He probably gets off on what a queer little shit you are and how you love to have your ass fucked by him, how you groan and moan and love every freakin' second of it..."

The rest of it was not heard. What if his dad was right? What if he was just a fuck toy? What if his mom did really hate him? He was just an all-round looser. He WAS just a waste of space...

Slowly, he turned the gun round so that it was facing him, it's black muzzle staring him in the face indifferently. Who would care if he wasn't there? Right now he knew he sure as hell wouldn't.

What was the point in perpetuating a lie: The lie he had been telling himself for the last six months or so - That he was loved, and that he was someone special. How could he possibly be? His own father, the man who supposedly loved him more than anyone else in the entire world thought he was worthless, and the thought of Spen using him just to get off made him wretch. He MUST be worthless to take that kinda crap and enjoy it...

He started to pull the trigger.

As the hammer reached full displacement and rolled over the cam that was lifting it, beginning it's rapid acceleration back towards the breach, Mack heard his mother's voice.

"NO!" it yelled. In that split second, he realised he was loved, and his father was simply lying to him again.

But it was too late. The hammer made contact with the back of the bullet, igniting the pre-charge in its base, shortly followed by the detonation of the main charge accompanied by an unbelievably loud bang.

Mack felt the impact of the sound followed by a searing white heat combined with a barrage of emotion, memories and sensations as the tip of the bullet pierced his temple, traveled through the two lobes of his brain and exited at the rear of his skull, continuing on it's trajectory as if nothing had been there.

He knew no more, his lifeless body slumping against the wall crowned by a perverse halo of radiated blood.

From outside the house, all that was heard of the entire event was a muffled gunshot, and a long, agonising scream of a middle-aged woman.