Morning dawned in various shades of grey, and found Nick dawdling and mulling so long over a breakfast he had no intention of eating, that a mild surge of panic raced through him when he eventually glanced at the clock.

When he got to St. Bernadette’s – late, frazzled and wishing he could be anywhere else that morning – Bri was already there. Standing behind one of the food trolleys, he was directing the breakfast rush to the appropriate tables, and monitoring the line so that the other volunteers wouldn’t get swamped.

Pleased as he was to see the boy, Nick couldn’t quite quash the little flare of hurt. It must have shown in his eyes; when Bri looked up and accidentally caught sight of him, the oddly vulnerable look that crossed those brown eyes was quickly replaced by one of resentment.

It was just a defensive reaction, Nick tried to convince himself, with little success.

The breakfast crowd had never moved so slowly. The hour it took for the flow to become a trickle felt as though it lasted six weeks. As soon as he was able, Nick approached the boy;

"Can I talk to you?"

"No." Bri didn’t even look at him.

"Bri—"

"I don’t want to. Deal with it."

"Why…" Nick glanced around furtively, afraid of being overheard, and even more worried that he’d be misunderstood. The last thing he needed right now was for all the good Christian people of St. Bernadette’s thinking he was nailing Bri through the bed every chance he got. The image that accompanied the thought woke up certain parts of him that he would have dearly preferred stay out of the conversation. Shaking it off, he went on, quietly. "Why did you leave?"

Bri swore under his breath, before brushing past Nick, striding away to the other side of the table he was cleaning. Paper plates and plastic cups tumbled angrily into the garbage bag.

"Bri…"

"Leave me the fuck alone." The boy growled, head still lowered, gaze averted.

"No." Nick frowned, hands braced on the edge of the table to keep them from shaking. "Everything was fine, and now you’re acting like I’m the scum of the earth. If I did something wrong, then the least you can do is tell me what."

All that gleaned him was another muttered curse. Picking up the half-filled garbage bag, Bri turned for the back room, and it was just a moment of rational thought that prevented Nick from reaching out for him as the boy walked past. Instead he steadied his breathing, clinging to a modicum of calm even as his paranoia was having a field-day. Whatever bounds he’d over-stepped, he had no idea what they were.

He was greeted by a blast of cold air as he followed Bri into the staff room. Something menacing settled in his stomach seeing the open door, convinced that Bri had bolted. He was still staring, panicked, when the boy walked back in, shut the door calmly behind him. In a strange reversal of the day before, it was Bri taking out the trash and Nick trying to speak to him. Nick wondered briefly whether Bri had felt the same kind of intimidation when the boy was in his place.

"What did I do?"

"Nothing." Bri shrugged.

"Please…" Nick pressed. "I don’t like the idea that I’ve upset you somehow, especially when I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to have done!"

"Why do you care?" Bri asked, the question flat and emotionless.

Since that was a query Nick had been doing his level best to ignore since last night, he was sorely tempted just to brush it aside now. But something in Bri’s voice, the sheer lack of animosity, the sincerity in the words, made that impossible.

"Because I do," he said softly. "For some odd reason, I like you. And I don’t like the thought that I’ve done something to make you feel bad, or to feel like you had to run out last night."

Bri’s gaze snapped up, brown eyes wide and staring at Nick as though he’d just suggested launching at attempt at world domination using just the plastic soup cups for ammunition. The words that came from parted lips were as quiet and hesitant as Nick had ever heard them.

"You like me…?" Those eyes narrowed in an ugly, suspicious frown. "Why?"

"I don’t know," Nick admitted. "You’re not always the easiest person in the world to get along with, I just…" He shook his head, cutting his rambling short with a wry laugh. "I don’t know."

Bri just kept watching him, inching closer. Nick was so intently focused on deciphering the unreadable expression in the boy’s eyes, he only noticed how close Bri was when the smaller frame almost bumped into him. That barely there touch sent shivers through him, like static, and he had to take a breath to shake the feeling off.

"Bri…"

In the back of his mind, something wished desperately that the boy would pull away, push him away, do something to take charge of a situation of which Nick was clearly in no control. Not if they were this close, not if he was lowering his head slowly to claim those lips just an inch away from his own.

Bri made a sound against the chaste kiss that was partway moan, partway sigh. Gentle little tremors of vibration ran from his lips to Nick’s, like an arc of electricity. And the lips beneath his were soft, softer than Nick would have expected, like nuzzling against velvet. Yielding to an irresistible impulse, he let just the tip of his tongue drag slowly against Bri’s lower lip.

His hands came up to Bri’s shoulders, resting there, not really holding on, just touching. Just another point of contact, when Nick couldn’t seem to get enough. It had been too long, far too long since he’d felt another quickened heartbeat pressed this close to his own, since he’d felt lips against his own, parting and granting him access on a quiet little moan.

Kissing Bri was like drowning in the finest wine; sweet, intoxicating, and perfectly overwhelming. He couldn’t come up for air even if he tried. Bri’s hands slid, flat-palmed, up his chest, and Nick found himself answering the touch with a groan.

He let his hands skate down over Bri’s back, pulling him close, and that’s when the enchantment shattered.

Bri broke the kiss, the hands that had just been touching Nick now shoving him away. The boy stared at him, eyes wide, looking utterly mortified at what he’d just done. He raised his fingers to his lips, as though he couldn’t quite believe the kiss had happened, mouth opening and closing in a couple of attempts at speaking, before he shook his head.

"I’m sorry…"

"Bri…"

"No…" Bri backed up, still shaking his head, only breaking the horrified stare long enough to look down as he backed right into the edge of the table. Whirling around he lunged for the door, tugging it open and racing out before Nick could react.

"Bri, wait--!"

By the time he reached the still swinging door, the alleyway outside was empty, nothing stirring except the cold with that blew trash across the pitted, damp asphalt. Nick stood there for several long optimistic minutes, believing somehow Bri would return once he’d calmed down, that if he waited long enough, the boy would appear at the doorway.

When twenty minutes passed, and Nick was so cold he couldn’t feel his fingertips anymore, he realised Bri wasn’t coming back.


*********


He’d feigned illness to get away from St. Bernadette’s early. It wasn’t a wholehearted lie; he had a pounding headache, and every time he thought about Bri a cold dull pain settled over his heart. He didn’t know, or frankly care anymore, whether anyone had noticed how Bri’s presence, or lack thereof, affected his moods.

Maybe it was better this way. He’d been acting like a besotted fool all week. It had never had any chance of turning out well, better that it crashed and burnt like this.

His gaze still scanned the frosty sidewalks as he drove, hoping against hope for a glimpse of Bri.

As he drove up towards the apartment building, his headlights caught a pile of clothes messily dumped next to one of the tree planters, out of the sight of the doorman. He was about to mutter under his breath when the pile of clothes moved, a head poking out of the dark tatty jacket.

Nick stared, the car engine spluttering to a stalled death right where it was. He didn’t care, it could stay there, it wasn’t in anyone’s way. Fumbling with the seatbelt, he shoved the car door open, all the while unable to tear his gaze away from the boy sitting on the step. He was so terrified in that moment that Bri was a figment of his imagination, and would disappear as soon as Nick looked away.

But the figure that stood, and took slow tentative steps towards him didn’t seem like a figment.

He breathed Bri’s name, and the boy stopped dead, stared at him. The need not to spook Bri was countered by the overwhelming determination not to let him run off again. Closing the small distance between them, he wrapped his arms around Bri’s suddenly tense frame, and tugged him gently against himself.

For several moments, Bri remained stiff and unresponsive in his arms. Just when Nick was about to chalk this up to yet another mistake, and let go, Bri shifted slightly against him. His hands lifted slowly, finding the material at the back of Nick’s coat and holding on tightly. The head pressed against Nick’s chest shook slightly, and mumbled;

"I’m sorry…"

"Ssshh…" Nick lowered his head, pressed his lips to Bri’s hair, feeling the boy shiver beneath the touch. "It’s okay. It doesn’t matter."

"But I…" Bri raised his head, the movement so quick Nick didn’t have time to move out of the way. When the blonde’s lips grazed his cheek, touched the corner of his mouth. Bri just stared wide-eyed. "Nick…"

"Sssh…." Nick repeated, lips finding Bri’s again, nibbling softly at his lips in a gentle, coaxing kiss.
Something deep inside felt as though it was unfurling in the brightest, warmest sunbeam, as Bri melted against him, body relaxed and leaning into Nick’s, touching from knee to chest.

"Come on…" His voice was still just a whisper as he drew back slightly from the kiss, just enough that he could watch Bri’s eyes. "Let’s get out of the cold, yeah?"

Bri smiled, a fully fledged smile that lit up those brown eyes like embers, and made him look younger than three days shy of eighteen. Unable to resist, Nick leant down and kissed that smile tenderly, as though he could absorb the brightness by touch alone.

They hadn’t quite been touching as they walked through the lobby, side by side, Bri sending wary glances at the doorman. Bri cuddled up close to him again in the elevator, and refused to let go when they reached their floor. Fishing out his keys while still holding onto the boy proved harder than Nick would have imagined, but after some fumbling they were inside, the door closed behind them, shutting out everything else.

The kiss that flared up when their lips met again was hungrier, deeper, Bri’s hands in his hair while Nick’s arms wound around the boy’s waist, almost lifting him up off the floor. Bri moaned softly against the kiss, tongue sliding sinuously against Nick’s, no hesitation, no wariness.

Without breaking the kiss, they made it over to the couch. Nick just held on, losing himself in the kiss, in the younger man’s arms, in the sheer relief that Bri was here, safe, back where he belonged.

And he did. Something about the boy’s presence just fit here. He’d only been here a short time, but when Bri wasn’t around, Nick felt the loss keenly.

The kiss trailed off, but neither of them let go. Bri’s face was buried in the crook of Nick’s neck, Nick’s arm around the boy’s shoulder, one hand brushing through soft brown hair.

"I’m sorry…for running off. And for last night…"

"It’s all right. I was just worried about you…worried where you’d gone, if you…" Nick let the words trail off, shaking his head. "I was afraid you were…"

"Picking up some john on a street corner?" Bri asked matter-of-factly, brow raised. At Nick’s slight nod, the expression in brown eyes softened. "Well I wasn’t. I haven’t for a while, definitely not since…" It was Bri’s turn to look a little flustered. "Not since I met you."

"Don’t do that…" Nick reached out helplessly, one hand brushing back Bri’s hair from his face. "Please…you’re too good for that, Bri, you have to believe that…"

Bri didn’t look all that convinced, but he nodded anyway.

"Can…" he began awkwardly, looking around the apartment. "…Do you mind if I took the couch again?"

"Of course not." Nick shook his head, smiled softly. He gestured to the folded blankets on the floor by the easy chair. "I never really put your stuff away."

"Thank you…" Bri’s fingers curled into the front of Nick’s shirt, as he drew him down into a kiss, just a brief brush of mouths, the tip of his tongue flicking out and stroking Nick’s lower lip. Nick smiled against the sweet kiss, before wrapping his arms around the boy, just holding him silently.

And for a moment, everything was perfect.


***********


The next couple of days passed in a surreally domestic blur. Every morning, they drove over to St. Bernadette’s together. Nick would leave for a few hours during the day to open the bookstore for a while, in case any last minute shoppers chose to drop in, before returning to the church, putting in a few more hours, before he and Bri went home.

The night before, while they’d been snuggled up on the couch, some corny old classic black and white movie on the television, Bri had surprised him with a shyly offered Christmas gift. The box had been small, no more than a few inches square, and obviously store-wrapped; the crisply folded gold paper with its muted pattern of holly leaves were too neat, the red and green ribbons curled to perfectly.

Nick had stared at the small box, both touched and troubled by it.

"Where did you get the money for this?"

"Well, since I’ve been here for a few days," Bri shrugged. "I’m not gonna have to pay rent this week."

"You still shouldn’t have spent it on me…" Nick had shaken his head, before drawing the boy closer, pressing a kiss to that chocolate coloured hair, and smiled softly. "But thank you…"

It was a bizarre set up, not least because Nick had been so used to living alone for over a year. His only guests had been his mother, for one day, a week after Peter’s death. It was strange to hear doors opening, to hear the TV or the coffee machine being switched on while he was out of the room. Bri still slept on the couch, but that was okay too. Just holding the boy and kissing him was enough, and there was a deeper satisfaction in getting up in the small hours of the morning and seeing Bri asleep, seeing him still there, it make Nick’s heart light at the thought.

He’d even promised Bri they could go and pick up a tree, dig out the old ornaments from their semi-permanent storage in one of the spare rooms. He wasn’t sure when they’d get the chance to do that, however; Christmas Eve, according to those who had volunteered in previous years, was the busiest night of all. Not because more people were out on the streets, or hungry, simply because no-one wanted to be alone.

So when Sister Elizabeth sought him out halfway through the morning, Nick assumed at first that it had something to do with the extra workload the volunteers would face that day.

"It’s quite troubling…" she began, once she’d herded him to a quiet corner of the hall. "You want to have faith in people, believe in their good nature, particularly at this time of year…"

Nick frowned, an unsettling anxiety winding its way around him. "What happened?"

"We run a carolling group every Christmas, they sing in the shopping malls and collect money for the church’s fund-raising activities. One of the organisers left some the proceeds in the vestry when they came by yesterday morning. They realised their mistake of course, but when they came back last night to pick it up, it was gone."

The uneasy feeling only intensified when an image of that immaculately wrapped gold box drifted into Nick’s mind.

"Who had access to it…?"

"Anyone who’s been through the doors in the past day." Sister Elizabeth shook her head. "They would have been wandering where they shouldn’t have been, but there was nothing to stop them. And it wasn’t as though it was a lot of money, thirty or forty dollars, but each one of those goes right back into helping these people."

Anyone. It could have been any of the hundreds of people that must have passed through the church in the previous day, all of them desperate enough to do it. Anyone.

So why couldn’t Nick shake the image of that box? Why was he trying to recall how Bri had looked – or not – when he’d given Nick the line about getting the money from the unpaid rent.

"Wasn’t the door locked?" he asked.

"We’re a church, Nick, not a prison." Sister Elizabeth sighed. "How can we claim to offer a welcome to anyone if we have to bar our doors?"

She had a point. Nick fought very hard to keep his face and tone neutral. "What can I do to help?"

"Well, I was hoping you might have seen someone, might have noticed something." She smiled weakly. "But it looks as though you haven’t."

"No." He shook his head, glad that at least he wasn’t lying about that.

"It’s hardly as though we expected to get the money back," she said. "It’s just a little disappointing. I don’t suppose your friend saw anything either?"

Bri. Nick wanted to put his head in hands at the thought of how the boy’s defences would kick in were the Sister to even suggest that he might be responsible. And why should she, his mind asked, why are you accusing him when she isn’t? When there’s nothing to suggest Bri had anything to do with it bar some circumstantial evidence, shouldn’t you be assuming his innocence, not his guilt?

"No…" Nick shook his head again. "I don’t think so. We were on the same cleaning shift. I’ll ask him though, in case he saw something I missed…"

"If you would." Sister Elizabeth nodded, before a wry look crossed her eyes. "Though if he was with you, I doubt his attention would have been on anything else."

Nick blushed furiously, voice almost a squeak. "Excuse me?"

"Whatever…" Sister Elizabeth paused, seeming to choose her words carefully. "Guidance and support you’re offering that boy, it’s a good thing. No-one his age should live the kind of life he lead before he met you. And he clearly dotes on you, all the ladies have noticed that he can’t seem to stop talking about you when you’re not together."

"But I…"

"Nick…" Sister Elizabeth placed a hand on his arm. "The two of you came here and helped, you gave your time and effort. We need more people like you. What you two choose to do in private doesn’t make a blind bit of difference."

He managed a soft `thank you` before she moved off back into the hall, and for a moment was too dazed and embarrassed by how transparent he and Bri had been over the past couple of days, to remember the reason she’d spoken to him in the first place.

And the unease came crashing down once again. Still, he promised himself he would speak to Bri and get his version of events first. He didn’t want to believe the boy would lie to him, not now.

Still, something kept him from straying too close to Bri for the rest of the day, preferring to keep his distance. He knew the boy noticed, knew it confused and pissed him off, but the last thing he wanted was to cause a scene here, not if those around them would infer Bri’s guilt from any argument.

The day passed tensely, and by the time he finally approached Bri, asking him if he was ready to go home, he wasn’t too surprised by the boy’s surly behaviour. Indeed, Bri didn’t even speak to him until he was forced to, when they passed the fourth Christmas tree lot between the church and Nick’s apartment.

"I thought we were gonna get a tree?"

"I’d rather go straight home." Nick kept his gaze on the road, foot on the gas, and tight grip on the wheel. "I want to talk to you. It’s important."

Bri made a small petulant sound, before huddling sulkily into the car seat. "Whatever."

Upon reaching the apartment, Bri stood with his arms folded and waited impatiently for Nick to turn n the lights, check the answermachine, turn on the coffee pot, fold his coat neatly over the back of a chair, anything instead of getting to the conversation at hand. Eventually Bri strode up to him.

"Get to the fucking point, Nick. I wanna go get a tree before they all sell out."

He watched Bri’s face carefully as he recounted what Sister Elizabeth had told him. The silence that dragged on when he was done speaking was accusation enough to make Bri tense up, scowl angrily at him.

"And you think….?" He shook his head, frowned. "I didn’t take their fucking money!"

"I want to believe you. God knows I want to believe you, but this…" Nick picked up the gift, the ribbons rustling as he shook it. Bri winced a little, hands twitching as though he was about to grab the neatly wrapped package from Nick’s hands to keep it safe. "Where did this come from, Bri?"

"I told you. I bought it."

"How?" He looked down at the gold paper, the green and red ribbon, and back up at Bri. "You don’t even have money to feed yourself."

"I didn’t steal their shit-sucking money, okay?!"

"So why can’t you tell me where you *did* get it? Bri, please…" Nick stared at the younger man, desperately. "Please, don’t tell me I’ve lied to them back there." He tried to lighten his tone, wished he could make the boy see that hard as it might have been for Bri to trust him, it had to count for something that Nick had been willing to take that risk for him. "Please don’t tell me I lied to a nun on Christmas Eve…"

"You’re not religious."

"Bri…" Nick’s sigh was a plea and a warning. "This isn’t a joke…"

"Who the fuck said it was?" Bri glared at him. "Fine. You really want to know? It was my money. I earned that money.

"Earned?" Nick repeated, momentarily bewildered as to why Bri couldn’t just have told him that from the beginning.

It took the combination of defiance and shame in the boy’s eyes for it to sink in how Bri had earned the money.

"You went back out there…" It wasn’t a question, but Nick still hoped to hell Bri would tell him no.

Bri just nodded slightly, gaze averted.

"I thought you said you weren’t doing that anymore?" Nick asked, voice soft from the encroaching numbness seeping into his thoughts.

"Who the fuck are you anyway, my keeper?" Bri yelled. "One fuck and you think you own me? You’re no fucking better than them!"

"Don’t say that…"

"Why not?" Bri spat. "At least they don’t tell me what to do."

Nick stared at him, open mouthed. "I never told you what to do…"

"Sure you did," the boy smiled bitterly. "The past week’s been nothing but your little game, see how much you can fuck with my head."

"What?"

"Did it feel good, huh?" Bri’s voice was soft, as though they were sharing a tender, sated moment instead of this face-off. "Was it your salvation, Nick? Did it salvage your soul somehow to fix me? I don’t need fixing. And I don’t need your `favours.`" One index finger jabbed towards the gift. "And that proves it."

Nick stared at the wrapped box as though it was a venomous creature sitting on the palm of his hand. He didn’t want to look at it anymore, didn’t want to think of what it stood for.

"Take it…" He held out the package to the boy, hand shaking. He could barely see clearly let alone think clearly. All he could see was some anonymous asshole with his Bri, Bri making sweet noises of pleasure for someone else, looking at someone else with a sated beautiful look in his eyes. Bri leaving him here to go and do that. Bri thinking for some screwed up reason that he needed to do something like that just to pay for Nick’s gift. To prove something. "…Take it!"

"But it’s your gift…" Bri’s voice was small. "It’s—"

"I don’t want it."

Bri’s face fell, and something in Nick’s heart shattered at the expression in those brown eyes. But he couldn’t….if Bri still thought he had to resort to selling his body to somehow balance things with gifts, if he thought Nick wanted anything besides Bri himself, and knowing he was safe and happy, then he’d made a terrible mistake somewhere.

Or, this was that did make Bri happy. Maybe this life was too ingrained in the boy, he could never quite leave it. Maybe Nick just wasn’t enough. When had it happened? One of the afternoons when Nick had gone back to the store and assumed Bri was still over at the church? Had he deliberately snuck out, sought one of….one of his `clients`?

"Nick…"

"I don’t want it," he repeated, amazed at how steady his voice was, even if his hand still shook as he all but threw it at the boy. "If that’s what paid for it, then I don’t want it."

He looked away, unable to meet Bri’s gaze. After a moment, the little box fell into his line of vision, bounced once on the hardwood floor, before rolling to a stop. By the time Nick raised his head, the last he saw of Bri was the slamming of the apartment door.

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