^I would strip for him. God bless he looks like a French model.

ALSO WHAT IM ABOUT TO SAY IS IMPORTANT:
I found the perfect album to go with this fanfic. It's called Wiped Out! By the Neighborhood. THEY HAVE A SONG CALLED DADDY ISSUES, SINGLE, and THE BEACH which, trust me, go with this story so well. I'm telling you: LISTEN TO IT.

CONNOR
I wake up with Troye in my arms on my bed... Naked. What happened yesterday was, to say at the least, very surprising. I don't know if it was necessarily right though. What's gonna happen now? Where do we stand exactly? Both of us admitted to have feelings for each other, but uh... What now? I look down at Troye, his clean pale skin contrasting with my colorful skin. His fragile frame looks so peaceful caged in my strong arms, I just wish I could keep him like that forever. I plant a few kisses on his arm. And as weird as this sounds, I watch Troye sleep for the next half hour until he starts shifting to wake up. His eyes flutter open and looks like a princess waking up from her slumber from one of those corny movies... until he sees me watching him and Troye jumps, eyes widening.

I laugh, "Good morning to you too."

He smack an arm across his face and groans, "For fucksake, the second I wake up, you scare me shitless!" I just pull him closer to me, spooning him.

"Why were you watching me sleep?" His eyebrows scrunch up.

"Because you are fucking gorgeous." I stroke his cheekbone.

And you know, this was going very well and cute until Troye yells, "PERRRVE!"
And starts cracking up like a fucking lunatic.

I roll on my back and sigh, "God. You're so immature. Why do I even like you?"

Troye climbs on top of and leans into my neck, "Remember, I'm really hot." My eyes roll, "Don't flatter yourself." He just smirks, "I don't need to. You do that already baby."

"I thought you were the baby. I'm the Daddy." I retort. Troye nods and mutters, "Good point."

"Anywayyy, c'mon we need to get ready." I usher him, almost pushing him off me. Troye groans, "But whyyy?"

"I scheduled an appointment with the rehab center for you. Now let's go."

Troye glares, clearly offended, "I don't need to go to rehab Connor."

My jaw clenches. I hate when people don't listen to me. "I don't want to hear it. Last time I gave you drugs, you said to get you help afterwards."

"I said you could get me help if I asked you for them again. And I haven't, so no." His sass is completely out of control.

I grab his wrist and make sure he's looking at me. "You don't have a choice. I'm doing what's best for you, so I expect you to listen to what I'm saying Troye. Now, get. Up."

He grumbles something about me not having ownership over him, but moves to get up. But when he does, Troye whines, grabbing his ass. "This would be much easier if I wasn't so sore," he turns around to look at me, "and I wouldn't be as pissed."

I glare and point at the bathroom, silently telling him to get ready. That was a pretty rough morning.

(•_•) timeskip (•_•)

We're finally in the parking lot of the rehab center. Troye and I haven't said a word to each other since our little disagreement in the morning. I sigh and turn to him, guess I have to be the bigger person.

"Troye?"

"Hmm?" He's looking out the side window, playing with the bottom of his pastel blue skirt with one hand while pulling up his white knee socks with the other.

"Sorry for being a dick earlier this morning. I just want to get you help because I care about you a lot and I just want you to be healthy. Also sorry for making you sore, I shouldn't have gone too hard on you yesterday." He doesn't answer right away, but smiles while bringing a hand up to my cheek.

"You're so sweet to me. And sorry for being a bitch, I know you want the best for me. It's just that I don't like talking about my problems with other people and that's exactly what rehab is." Troye scratches the side of his arm self consciously. I hold his nimble fingers in mine, and kiss his knuckles.

"You'll be okay Babygirl. I'll be with you every step of the way." I comfort, "But now come on. It's time for the appointment."

TROYE
"Hello Troye. My name is Dr. Howell and this is Dr. Lester. We'll be you psychiatrists. Sometimes I'll be here and he won't and sometimes Dr. Lester will be here and I won't, so I thought it would be best for you to meet both of us on the first day."

I nod, still looking down whilst having my head leaning against Connor's shoulder.

"We're just gonna start by asking you some basic questions. Rehab isn't supposed to put you under stress Troye, but you need to share your feelings." Dr. Lester chimes in and I nod.

"Ok, so when did you first try drugs? And when did you become a regular user?"

"I-I uh, I first tried drugs when I was around sixteen. I was forced to though by my uh... my Dom. And I was hooked when I was eighteen." The doctors scribble on their clipboards and Connor traces circles in the palm of my hand with his thumb.

"And why exactly did you start using them on your own? Without anyone forcing you?" Dr. Lester asks.

I squeeze my eyes shut and mutter, "Connor, I can't do this..." But he just nudges me and I groan. "I started using them after I- after work."

"And what is your job?"

"Prostitution." I bite my lip nervously, fiddling with my fingers as both the doctors raise their eyebrows in shock at the same time.

"Oh... Okay then. When you, you know, do your job...do you enjoy it...or?" Dan asks uneasily.

"No."

He nods his head, "Understandable. So when was the last time you had sex that was enjoyable?"

Connor cuts in going into protective mode, "What does that have anything to do with Troye's recovery?"

"Mr. Franta, we need to know if the need of using drugs is sex, or if there is something else triggering it. So, Troye, when was the last time you had enjoyable sex?" Dr. Lester asked calmly.

"Um... Uh-...Y-yesterday..." God, this is so embarrassing.

"Ohhh... I wonder with who???" Dr. Howell said sarcastically, looking at Connor, "Is that why you were getting all protective?" From the corner of my eye, I see Connor clench his jaw.

"Dan, stop it." Phil rolled his eyes. "So did you feel the urge to use drugs after?"

I shake my head no and Dr. Lester records it down on his clipboard. "Okay Troye. That's it for today. My advice to you to cut down on the amount of drugs you use every time and quit your job. That is what seems to be distressing you." He gives a small, reassuring smile and gets up to shake my hand.

(•_•) timeskip (•_•)

CONNOR
"See? That wasn't as bad, was it?" I asked as Troye is laying on my bare chest, tracing small patterns on my skin.

"I have to quit my job. That's the only way I can earn money Connor..." He whimpers.

I shift uncomfortably, "I was actually just gonna ask you to do that before the psychiatrist told you to."

Troye raises his head off me, turning around so we're facing each other, "W-what do you mean?"

"Well, yesterday before we had sex, I told you I have feelings for you... And you said it back. I'm just kind of wondering where we stand. I know that I'm not gonna have sex with anyone but you, so I was gonna ask the same from you..."

Troye shakes his head, "Connor, you don't understand. That's my job. It's how I earn money. I can't go back on the streets again. Not having sex with anyone else is different for you because you're not a fucking prostitute! ...But I am."

I glare, "You didn't let me finish Troye. I will let you live with me and I'll pay for everything you need and want."

"L-like... A Sugar Daddy?" He asks apprehensively and I nod. He's my gem, I want to shower him in riches.

"Yeah. That's exactly what I'm offering..." I whisper in his ear and run my fingertips up and down Troye's forearm.

"O-okay. Yeah, I'd like that." Troye blushes and I lift his chin up.

"C'mere my Babygirl." I connect our lips, tongues automatically meeting in the middle. Troye blushes again and I chuckle. "So, what I was thinking is that we could go out to dinner tonight, on a date."

"This is how you ask me? Oh! How romantic Connor! I'm starstruck..." He sasses and I pinch his thigh playfully. Troye jumps and smacks my arm away, "I hate you but yes, I'd love to go on a date with you."

AUTHORS NOTE🌬:
Hello. WADDUP. Meghan Trainor should not have won that Grammy ew. Also happy (late) Valentine's Day, love is fake.

Tumblr/Twitter: @kingtronler