last thing they needed was for Matt to trip.

Matt crossed the threshold, stepping down into the stairwell with Ryan. “Great, okay,” Ryan said.

“Now just –” He paused as Fizz stirred, winding his arms around Matt’s neck. Ryan watched Fizz

press his face close, his tongue darting out to lick a long line from Matt’s thick neck, all the way up to

his cheek.

Matt froze, his face a study in shock.

If the whole situation hadn’t been quite so worrying, Ryan might have laughed.

“What the fuck is this?” someone demanded. Ryan turned at the sound, seeing Sammy halfway up

the stairs below them. He was glaring ahead, his eyes fixed on Matt and Fizz.

Oh brother. Ryan finally put two and two together. “Sammy,” he said carefully. “We’ve just – I

mean – Well, there’s something wrong with Fizz.”

“Yeah, I’ll fucking say!” Sammy scowled furiously. “What the fuck is up with him?”

Ryan was taken aback at the ferocity of Sammy’s words. Matt too, was still in shock as Fizz

continued to lick and kiss his neck.

“Matt.” Ryan indicated frantically. “Come on, put him in my room. Then you can put him down.”

Matt’s eyes were wild with panic, but he kept hold of Fizz and followed Ryan along the hall.

Sammy followed them. “What the hell’s going on, Ryan? And where’s Ash? I thought this little emo

prick was with him?”

“Sammy, calm down,” Ryan pleaded. “Go and call Ginger, I need him back here.”

“Why should I? Moody git practically bit my head off earlier.”

“And you deserved it!” Ryan snapped, as Sammy started back in surprise.

“Ryan.” Matt said warningly. “Ease off, okay?”

Ryan glanced at Matt, seeing the genuine concern behind the frown on his face. Feeling guilty and

self-conscious, Ryan mumbled, “I’m sorry, Sammy.”

Sammy only raised an eyebrow. He folded his arms and watched them. Matt stumbled the last few

steps into Ryan’s bedroom, managing to deposit Fizz on the bed with a grunt. Ryan was right beside

them, trying to untangle Fizz’s arms from Matt’s neck.

“Get him off me,” Matt hissed.

“I’m trying,” Ryan hissed back. “What’s going on with you and Sammy?”

Matt floundered. “We – it’s – What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Sorry I asked.” Ryan succeeded in freeing Matt, who took several paces back. Ryan turned his

attention to Fizz. The boy’s eyes were open, and he gripped onto Ryan’s wrists with surprising

strength.

“Ash,” he breathed. “Where’s Ash?”

“I don’t know.” Ryan tried to prise his wrists free but it wasn’t working. He twisted his head to look

at Matt. “Call Ginger. Get him back here. Please.”

Matt nodded slowly. Sammy poked his head around the door, glaring daggers. “That brat is bad

news.”

* * *

Matt stepped into the hall, averting his eyes from the fierce gaze one very pissed off Sammy. “Can

I...er, can I borrow your phone? Mine’s still missing.”

Sammy’s glare intensified. “So is mine. If you want to tell me where you put it, you can use it.”

“Huh?” Matt blinked at him. “Sammy, I never took your phone.”

Sammy directed his glare toward Ryan’s room, and the occupants inside. “Well, somebody did.”

Through the open door, they could hear Ryan trying to placate Fizz. “Matt!” he called out.

“Seriously, can one of you guys call Ginger? Like, now!”

Matt ran a hand through his hair nervously. “Look, come on. I’ll use the phone downstairs.”

Sammy moved aside to let him pass. Matt wasn’t sure if Sammy would follow or not, but he had to

get to a phone. If anything, someone had to help Ryan deal with Fizz, and he’d rather that someone

was Ginger.

As he rounded the bannister and stepped onto the stairs, Matt glanced up at Sammy, waiting. He

was surprised how much the hurt look on Sammy’s face affected him. His chest felt tight, his heart

hammered away.

Sammy stared back at him, but his glower lost its strength. He huffed out a breath, and made to

follow. Matt was relieved. They walked down the stairs together, quickly, but in silence. Matt tried to

think of what to say as he concentrated on where he was going.

The nearest phone was in the bar. Sammy waited out in the stairwell, while Matt slipped into the

back bar. The music was playing, as normal, and Rachel was leaning on the bar, chatting to two of the

regulars, totally oblivious to what went on upstairs.

Matt picked up the phone, and opened the pub’s diary on the counter to locate Ginger’s number. He

dialled, and the phone rang. Matt knew Ginger would always pick up a call from the pub. He was

practically married to this place.

After four rings, Ginger’s voice grumbled, “What?”

“It’s Matt. I think you need to get back here, quick.”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“Fizz is ill or something.”

“Ill?” Ginger repeated. “Ill, how?”

“Don’t know,” Matt said honestly. “He’s acting really strange. Wheezy breaths, sleepy, and...er,

yeah, just kinda weird.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Where are you?” Matt asked.

“Only at The Druids. Give me ten.” Ginger hung up. Matt replaced the handset, and sighed in relief.

Ginger was their first aider. If anyone knew what to do, he would. Beyond applying a plaster to cut

fingers, Matt didn’t have a clue about illnesses.

Now that was taken care of, Matt knew he had to speak to Sammy. He edged his way into the

stairwell. Sammy was still there, leaning against the bannister, pretending to fiddle with the bracelets

on his wrist.

Matt could tell he was upset, it was written all over his face. There had been a time when that sulky

pout would have irritated Matt, but...not now. He’d put that pout there. The knowledge that Sammy

was jealous over him made Matt feel several things at once; guilty, nervous, and a small, tiny amount

of hopeful.

“Sammy?” Matt moved closer.

Even standing on the first step, Sammy was still shorter than him. Sammy looked up, his green-blue

eyes shining. Matt wasn’t sure what to do. He had an overwhelming urge to pull Sammy against him,

but he wasn’t sure such a gesture would be welcomed. The last thing he wanted was to annoy Sammy

further.

Matt played it safe, and reached out his hand. He gently touched Sammy’s wrist, to stop him from

fiddling with his bracelets. Sammy allowed the touch. He glanced down, looking at their hands. Matt

couldn’t guess what he was thinking. He rehearsed his words in his head, to think of what to say before

he spoke, when Sammy twisted his hand in Matt’s grasp, locking their fingers together.

“I think I over reacted,” he said quietly.

“Huh? No, no,” Matt said. “I mean, well...I don’t know. That was all really weird. I didn’t know

what the hell Fizz was doing, but Ryan asked me to pick him up. I didn’t want to, or anything.”

Sammy smiled wryly, still gazing down at their hands. “I kinda hate that kid, you know? It was

weird to see him try to make out with you, right after we.... Well, after you made out with me.”

Matt squeezed his hand. “Sammy, I wasn’t- I mean, I wouldn’t. That wasn’t making out. Not like –”

His words faltered.

Sammy met his gaze. “Not like what?”

“Like us, I mean.”

“What is this, Matt?” Sammy asked, searching his eyes. “I need to know.”

Matt acted on instinct, and pulled Sammy close. He curved a hand behind Sammy’s neck without

thinking about it; he simply had to touch, to reassure. He gazed into Sammy’s eyes. What is this? He’d

been asking himself the same question since their first kiss. Matt didn’t have all the answers, but he

felt he had a pretty good one when he looked into Sammy’s green-blue eyes.

“This is, you and me,” he said, trying not to wince at how lame that sounded to his ears.