A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS! :D If you're following me on Facebook then this story will be familiar xD I started writing this A VERY LONG TIME AGO, but then I dumped it and then suddenly had inspiration to finish it, so BAM. HERE IT IS.

I hope you all enjoy it! Don't forget to leave a vote and comment if you do ;D Nearly 27,000 words man, I try too hard lmfao

P.S. The story's got a subtle tone of D/S (dominance/submission for those who don't know) going on and if that's not your cup of tea, you've been warned.

Okay, enough talk! Enjoy! :D

*

-o- Equally Tenacious -o-

"Deane! My love!"

Oh God no. It's the voice from my waking nightmares.

Deane – the youngest Anderson – froze, because despite the fact that the voice behind him had grown considerably huskier and was a tad more mature than he remembered, he would recognize that voice anywhere.

When Jenny had come to their side of the ranch a few minutes ago, whispering about the Davies' grandson coming over for the summer, he'd taken it as bullshit because the Davies' grandson only visited them during Christmas, and the last time Deane and his brothers had seen him was more than three years ago.

But the overdramatic squeals of excitement repeating behind him like some annoying mantra proved that for once, Jenny's gossip was actually the truth.

"Deane!" Luke called again in his loud, annoying, high-pitched voice, and Deane gritted his teeth, refusing to turn around to acknowledge the teenager. What on earth was he even doing here?

He listened to the sound of fast approaching footsteps, tensing and dreading what was coming, when the feet suddenly came to an unexpected halt, and there was a low wail of, "No, no, no, no, no!"

"Luke?" Red – the Anderson directly older than Deane – sputtered in surprise, sitting up from the lawn chair he was currently lazing on in front of the house he shared with his brothers. He tipped his hat up and his pale green eyes – a feature all the Anderson brothers shared – grew wide when he spotted the slim figure standing at the opening of their rickety hand-made picket fence, and his lips stretched in a huge grin, "well bugger me blind, it's Queen Luke!"

"Queen Luke?" Jenny asked in confusion, glancing at Luke and then back at the Andersons just as Luke practically wailed, "No," while waving his hand frantically at a dark brown stain on the left calf of his obviously expensive faded sky blue jeans, "How on earth did that even get there? These jeans are brand new!"

"Queen Luke!" Red laughed in amusement, gesturing his hand at Luke's obvious theatrics in explanation to Jenny, emphasising on the nickname 'queen', only making the teen blush slightly in guilty embarrassment.

"Did someone say Luke?" Brick – the oldest Anderson – called from inside the house, nearly stumbling out of the house in his haste, hands scrambling to button up the white striped long-sleeved shirt he'd obviously just hastily put on.

Luke managed to look up with a tiny smile, but his day was officially ruined because of the ugly stain on his jeans. His eyes glanced down at the stain and darted up almost unconsciously to glance at Deane from underneath his eyelashes, and he smiled a little when he noticed the almost irritated way Deane rolled his eyes at him and turned to look at the clipboard in his hands like it was more important. Looks like someone hasn't changed at all, he thought giddily.

"Come here, Luke boy!" Brick yelled, rushing up to the nineteen year old and dragging him into his arms for a bear hug, in the process lifting him bodily off the ground.

Luke squealed, feeling Brick's strong arms crush his ribs and compress his lungs.

"Jesus Brick, put me down – gently!" he hissed when Brick nearly threw him back to the ground. He frantically glanced down at his jeans again to make sure no new stains had appeared in his wake.

Noticing that he was fine – well, as fine as he could be with the muddy map of Africa currently staining his pants – he smoothed his shirt and decided to ignore the stain. Well, at least he tried to. The stain felt like someone was pressing a branding iron into his calf.

Ignoring it with difficulty, he smiled at the Anderson brothers, trying not to be too aware of Deane, his palms sweaty as he beamed, "Long time no see!"

"You're telling me," Red chuckled, now relaxed back on the lawn chair, his voice coming out slightly muffled because his hat had fallen to cover his face and he hadn't bothered removing it.

"Still lazy as usual, Red," Luke teased, and Red flipped him off still without moving.

"Red!" Samson – the second oldest Anderson – exclaimed in genuine shock, just exiting the stables, "don't be crude!"

Luke raised an eyebrow, "I'm nineteen now, Sam. I think I can handle a middle finger."

"Good to see you too, Lucas."

Luke cringed. "It's Luke, Sam. Luke. You would think that would stick to your head after I practically grew up with you guys."

"And it's Samson to you. Now come here," Samson grinned, spreading his arms for a hug, and Luke rolled his eyes but moved to the embrace, the irritation of the stain in his jeans steadily growing.

Sam raised an eyebrow and Brick was trying obviously not to laugh as Luke shuffled over to Sam like he'd broken his hip or something, spreading his arms for a reciprocal hug.

"You okay there, buddy?" Brick asked with amusement and that just made the stain feel like someone stabbed a knife into his leg, making it twitch involuntarily.

"I'm fine," Luke replied, beaming with difficulty, "It's so great to see you all again!"

"My, you've really grown, haven't you? No longer the scraggly kid who could barely fit into his pants," Brick teased.

"Hey!" Luke cried, blushing in indignation, eyes darting to Deane and away again almost unconsciously while he played with his fingers.

"So what brings you to these parts? That's Jenny by the way, she moved to one of the neighbouring farms a few months ago," Brick nodded at the small girl standing beside him, who was beginning to get impatient that she didn't know who Luke was and was being kept out of the loop.

She was tiny with long gorgeous dark locks, and had big gorgeous dark eyes. If not for the mature way she carried herself and her slightly mature features – like the small bosom and curvy hips – Luke would have thought she wasn't above ten years old; the girl couldn't be more than three and half feet tall.

She beamed at Luke.

"Hello," she said, holding out her hand, "I don't think I've heard of you."

Luke shook her hand with a smile. But before he could explain himself, Brick was doing so for him.

"Luke here is like a brother to us," Brick said, dropping an arm heavily over Luke's shoulder and ignoring the way Luke sank a little from the weight, the nineteen year old shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, "he used to visit the ranch every Christmas since he was born but we haven't seen or heard from him in nearly three years."

Luke had the grace to flush guiltily, shifting again on his feet. "You know I was just settling into Uni. Don't tell me grandma and grandpa didn't send you my emails? I wrote all the time!" At that last exclamation, his gaze again darted to Deane before quickly darting away.

"Our computer isn't up to speed and it's a lot of money to get Wi-Fi around here," Sam said in explanation, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"Grandma Davies did mention you a few times she came over to check on us, but she's old and she probably forgot," Red called from his lawn chair, hat still over his face.

"I emailed all the time," Luke complained, desperate to defend himself, "I wouldn't forget you guys just like that."

"It's okay, Luke," Sam said with a laugh, "don't look so worried! We can use this time to catch up! Did your mum and dad come with you? We should probably go say hi."

Something flashed across Luke's expression and he looked hesitant; like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how the Andersons would interpret it, before his expression turned into a playful smirk, and he stiffened his spine and blurted it out without preamble, "I ran away from home."

There was a tense silence.

"Say what now?" Red gasped, finally getting up from his lawn chair, his hat carelessly falling into the dirt below him.

Luke grinned and crossed his arms over his chest, "I ran away. Got my dad's credit card to book a flight to the ranch, and here I am."

"Did something happen?" Samson asked in concern, moving forward as if to touch Luke but Luke took an involuntary step backwards, lifting his leg up and distractedly touching the stain there with a wince.

"Nothing happened," Luke said evasively, now completely focused on the dark stain like it was suddenly the most fascinating stain in the world, "I just couldn't take it anymore. I'm tired of the city life and since my parents wouldn't let me move here, I decided to come on my own."

"Is he being serious right now?" Deane finally spoke, voice incredulous and not without a touch of sarcasm, making Luke flinch slightly, "you're actually being serious right now."

Luke looked up at Deane, tilting his chin up defiantly, "Yes, I am being serious right now."

"You ran away from home because your parents refused to let you stay in the countryside," he repeated blankly.

"Exactly," Luke replied stubbornly, crossing his arms, refusing to see where he was wrong in things.

"Wow, I literally cannot handle this," Deane growled, slapping the clipboard in his hands into Samson's chest, before stalking into the house and slamming the door behind him.

There was a brief silence. The stain on Luke's pants suddenly felt like there were billions of little cockroaches crawling over his leg and he felt like throwing up. He wanted – no, he needed to rip those jeans off his legs like, right now! The stupid stain was irritating him so much it felt like he was a boiling kettle about to spill over.

He bit his lip hard against the thoughts and impulses, shaking his leg furiously and then tugging at his pants almost angrily before nearly screaming, "Okay, I need to change these jeans, pronto!"

Sam, Red, and Brick shared amused glances as Luke practically ran away from their property to change his jeans.

"Is he serious, though?" Jenny asked the minute he disappeared, "he ran away because his parents wouldn't let him live here? Can you say spoiled or what?"

"Maybe he's got bigger problems," Red said with a shrug.

Jenny tried to explain her point of view, "I'm just saying – he looks like he has everything. Did you see the designer on his jeans? And to take his dad's credit card and use it to book a flight here – without permission if I might add – like, are you being serious, right now? Who does that?"

"He does," Brick said matter-of-factly, "and we've known him most of our lives, Jenny. We're not exactly in the dark when it comes to the sea of money his family lives in. I mean, look at this ranch – his grandparents own it – the entire thing."

Sam looked uncomfortable with the way his brothers were subtly attacking Jenny in their defence of Luke, but he didn't say anything, instead shuffling his feet and staring at the sand beneath his boots.

Jenny glanced at the acres of land surrounding their little two storey house as if to judge the size of the ranch, and then she shrugged noncommittally and crossed her arms, "I hope his parents find him and teach him a lesson."

The brothers snorted at that. If there was anything they knew, Luke's parents would probably be begging him to come back home, apologizing and wailing on the phone and promising him two cars for his twenty-first birthday.

Deane, on the other hand, was trying not to let this get to him. He opened the cupboards in the kitchen, gritting his teeth so hard he was sure they were chipping away bit by bit. Bringing out a carton of cereal, he made a mental note to go to the supermarket in town later to stock up on their groceries.

Luke Davies – God, the name alone made him as irritated as hell – Deane personally thought Luke was loud, brash, over dramatic, and last but not least, a spoiled brat. Deane wasn't even going to deny it – he was jealous of the kid. While Deane and his brothers had lost their parents at a young age, and had to learn how to survive on their own, Luke had the most doting parents in the world.

While Deane and his brothers were barely surviving on the little cash they had, Luke was swimming in it. Basically, Luke had everything Deane has ever wanted and the boy had the fucking audacity to take it for granted. He rarely appreciated what his parents did for him from what Deane could see; he wasted their money on the most trivial things and god, the list could go on and on! Throughout those years Luke had visited them during Christmas and New Year, Deane had done his best to avoid him.

Deane felt like his brothers had helped in on spoiling Luke – all those times in the past he'd come to the ranch for Christmas, they would shower him with cheap gifts and take him out and treat him like he was a little prince, like the boy didn't already have a mountain of cash and expensive gifts waiting for him at home.

Apart from him being a drama queen, he also complained a lot about the most unimportant things – which obviously hadn't changed if the way he was moaning about the tiny stain on his brand new jeans was anything to go by – and he used to follow Deane around a lot in the past; asking him annoying questions and pestering his life.

In fact, if Deane thought back now, he felt it was Luke's sole mission to drive Deane out of his bloody mind. He was the one Luke always complained to, the one who he reported to if he had a rip in his jeans, the one he would cry to if he chipped a nail and even when Deane was so obvious in his dislike for Luke, the younger boy just hadn't gotten the memo. And God, the horrible obvious flirting – just remembering when Luke had turned sixteen and obviously thought he was some kind of hottie, he'd started flirting with Deane – solely to annoy him, he knew – and it was just the last straw.

And the fact that Deane had made it obvious how damn annoying he found the flirting, Luke had decided that meant he should flirt even more and it was the number one most annoying thing on his pet peeve list.

Well now, he wasn't going to be all rainbows and daisies – he was going to show Luke in black and white that if he thought running away to the ranch was going to be an easy life with him and his brothers at his beck and call, he had another think coming.

As Luke stumbled away from the Andersons' humble abode, he only then paid attention to the way his heart was pounding heavily in his chest and his hands were slightly sweaty, the stain on the side of his leg like Satan's grip.

Okay, Luke knew that Deane Anderson has always been a sex God but sweet baby Jesus, Deane had grown even hotter over the past three years. How was that even possible? His light green eyes were as hot as ever – a trait all the brothers shared but Luke could tell that there were subtle differences in their looks – Deane's hair was now shorter than he remembered and slick, the dark strands just begging Luke's hands to sift through the thick locks. His hair was jet black, so dark it looked like it had streaks of blue when he turned in the light.

And God, that freaking stubble; Luke could rub himself all over it. Imagine his cheeks getting burned by it if they kissed –

"Oh God, Luke, you are in so deep," he moaned, cupping his cheeks in his palms, the stain in his jeans momentarily forgotten.

If Luke was going to be honest, Deane was his very first crush and no one else really compared. Sure, he'd found other people he was attracted to at home, but none gave him the shivers and butterflies like Deane did. At first, when he'd been younger, he'd thought it was simple admiration but when he hit puberty and Deane started becoming the star of his late night fantasies, the reason for his impromptu teenage boners and random wet dreams and daydreams, he knew it was way more than that.

And now, seeing him again, Luke would have thought three years would put a damper on his old crush, but the feelings had just rushed to the surface like a damn volcano just dying to erupt. God, he was so fucking attracted to him it was ridiculous.

Coming back to the ranch was a big decision but he didn't regret it one bit. He was tired of his parents constantly trying to control his life, and so this was his effort in trying to take a bit of that control back.

Luke wasn't blind or naïve though – he knew that Deane didn't really like him that much, although he really didn't know why, but he really didn't care about that. He just loved to see Deane getting all mad, flushed, and uncomfortable when Luke started shamelessly flirting with him that he couldn't help it, and now, it's been three whole years and Deane looked like sex on legs, and Luke could promise him that he was going to be downright crude.

Oh, it felt great to be back!

*

"Behave."

"You're joking," Deane said the next morning, staring at Samson in disbelief, "You're fucking kidding me."

"How did I know you were going to be uncooperative?" Samson groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face in slight frustration, before turning around to open the cupboards to get himself some cereal for breakfast, "we need to top up on our groceries," he commented when he realized that the box of cornflakes was nearly gone.

"Oh, come on Deane, tear down that big wall of yours for a second and let the guy breathe," Red said, as he sauntered over to drape an arm over Deane's unwilling shoulders.

Deane ripped away from his brother's arm to glare at him with an incredulous raise of his eyebrow, "You think that Luke – Queen Luke –" he spat the nickname out of spite, "– is going to be of help on our ranch?"

"You mean Grandpa and Grandma Davies' ranch – and you can't know if you don't try," Brick winked, "and besides, its summer and you know how restless Luke can get. You don't want him trailing after you and whining."

"Exactly," Samson said, "we just give him a trivial task – like taking out the chickens or counting the eggs – so he feels useful and that's it."

Deane snorted, "Counting the eggs? Do you really think he'd agree to that? He's not a kid anymore, you know. I bet he's going to whine and moan that he wants to use the tractor – or even worse, he might want to break a horse!"

And with that, he stalked out of the house, leaving the other men snickering at each other.

*

"Count the eggs?" Luke asked incredulously. At least today he was dressed to get dirty – he was wearing his most worn clothes which consisted of a faded yellow t-shirt and some new grey overalls he'd gotten just for the ranch, feet covered in knee-high cowboy boots. To him the items – except the overalls – were worn and old but to anyone else, they still looked as good as new.

"Is this a joke? Do I look like I'm six? I want to do something real, not count the bloody eggs!" he growled, crossing his arms and pouting petulantly.

Deane raised his eyebrow at Sam as if to say 'I told you so' and Samson rolled his eyes at him.

"Counting the eggs is just as productive as anything else we do on this ranch, Luke," Samson explained gently, "it helps in getting all the work done. Imagine if no one counted the eggs – then we wouldn't know how much we were going to sell or keep for ourselves and –"

"Okay, okay," Luke cut him off with a dramatic eye roll and a fake yawn, "I get what you mean but can't someone else count the eggs?" he pouted stubbornly, "I want to do something more tasking – like feed the horses! Or take them out to the pastures to roam."

His eyes betrayed him by straying over to Deane, who was staring down at his signature clipboard, a small frown of concentration on his face, and so he missed the tentative look. Samson, however, caught the glance, and he was surprised when Luke blushed a violent shade of red at being caught staring instead of plastering on his usual seductive grin and saying something flirty to Deane. Whoa, what has changed?

The Andersons – all except Deane – knew just how much of a horrible crush Luke had on their oblivious brother, and even though Samson knew it was futile, he decided he couldn't help but play a little game of matchmaker.

"Hey, Deane, why don't you find something in that clipboard of yours for Luke to do? He could tag along with you for the day," Samson suggested, barely hiding his smirk.

Red and Brick started chuckling under their breaths, and Samson's eyebrows shot into the roof when Luke's face promptly turned the shade of a ripe tomato while Deane looked at them with barely controlled anger, the muscles in his face so stiff it made the veins running up his temples stand out.

"Just do it before you pop an artery," Red called lazily from his lawn chair, hat already tipped low on his face, arms crossed languidly over his chest, and his sentence made them all burst out laughing, all except Deane.

"Come on," he all but growled at Luke, and the teen squeaked before scrambling after Deane, who was already making his way to the stables.

"Oh, what have I done?" Samson mumbled, knowing that this was only going to end in disaster.

Brick chuckled and came over to pat Sam on the shoulder, "trust me, Deane's just in denial. You know he's sort of a...I don't know the word for it. He's just really angry and jealous of Luke's good fortune so it makes him an asshole. Trust me, the guy's as far in as Luke is."

"Yeah, but have you seen how stubborn they both are? I won't be surprised if the house ends up in flames by the end of the summer."

Red laughed out loud.

*

He was so going to kill them. He was going to maim and then kill them, Deane thought furiously as he stomped over to the stables, opening the doors. He didn't waste a breath as he picked up a shovel and an apron, and shoved the items at Luke who barely caught them.

"You might want to start mucking out the stables then," he said, barely concealing his glee. If Luke's reaction to the tiny stain on his brand new jeans yesterday was anything to go by, cleaning out the horses' stables was definitely going to drive him mad. That'll teach the posh city boy just what it is to live like in the village. He used that vile word sarcastically because Luke had once referred to their beautiful ranch – their home – as a village, like some primitive land or something.

Luke hesitated at the sight of the shovel, eyes widening when he glanced to the stalls where the horses where kept, the stench of their excreta nearly unbearable. The leg that he'd stained the previous day twitched and he was about to say 'oh hell no', glancing up at Deane, but the look on the older man's face – like he was waiting for him to protest made him square his jaw and lift his chin defiantly.

He slid the apron on and rested against the handle of his shovel, letting his lips curl into a seductive smile, "So how do I do this then, hot stuff?" he winked.

"Ugh," Deane groaned and turned away from him, thinking; my God, he's annoying.

He picked up his own shovel and apron and moved to one of the stalls. There was a wheel barrow beside the stall, and for a second, his demeanour changed completely as he approached the lovely black stallion resting in the stall, petting it and whispering sweet nothings in its ear.

Luke felt his breath catch in his throat at the look of pure adoration Deane gave the horse, and he was suddenly painfully reminded of his unrequited crush. He swallowed, filled with a sudden rush of deep yearning to have Deane look at him like that. He shook his head lightly, slightly panicked at just how intense his emotions were. Whoa, where was all this coming from? Deane was attractive yes, and gave him the butterflies, check, but this was freaking Deane the machine he was talking about – he couldn't afford to get all googly eyed!

Ah, he was probably feeling like this because this was his first crush after all, and it had been three years, and Deane had also somehow become deliriously hotter so there was that.

"Right," Deane said as he turned away from the horse, snapping out of some stupor, "first we take the horses to the fenced pastures while we clean up in here. Samson will take care of their feeding and Red's going to help them stretch their limbs. Our job is to remove the manure and dirty straws and replace 'em with clean straw from the stack over there. Got that?"

"Got it," Luke replied with a mock salute, and Deane rolled his eyes at him before the both of them started leading the horses out to the pasture to roam freely.

They had only seven horses, five male and two female, so it didn't take long to lead them out to roam. And then they got back to the empty stables, and Deane started shovelling the manure from one stall into his wheelbarrow, the muscles in his arms flexing as he worked.

Oh this wasn't fair, was that even called a t-shirt? Luke thought with an inward moan. It might as well have been a second skin for all the muscles rippling and stretching the fabric taut.

For a second, Luke just stood there staring, his eyes glazing over with barely concealed desire. God, to have those muscles effortlessly moving him around – or – or – imagine having those muscles for him to control. The rush that spiked up his spine was heady and the muscles in his lower belly clenched in arousal.

Deane glanced over at Luke, about to say 'and that's how it's done' when he noticed just how the teen was looking at him. His honey brown eyes were dreamy, pouty lips parted as he stared at Deane like a starved man staring at a buffet.

Deane felt answering warmth pool low in his belly and he must have made a sound because Luke snapped out of his daze with a flinch, eyes darting up to meet his, his tongue wetting his plush lips.

"Did you get what I just showed you or are you going to continue daydreaming all damn day?" Deane snapped, his voice coming out harsher than he intended for reasons he did not understand. When Luke shuffled on his feet, Deane barked, "Well? Go work on the other stalls."

"Fine, fine, Mr Grumpy," Luke rolled his eyes, holding his hands up in mock surrender before moving to a stall across from Deane.

He put on his apron and picked up the shovel, intensely aware of the fact that Deane was watching him. As he moved to his stall, unlocking and pushing the door open, Deane was still staring, and it was beginning to make him twitch.

He spun around and smiled sultrily, "Okay, I know my ass looks great in these jeans but can you stop staring? Unless of course, you want some of this," he wiggled his hips.

Deane raised an eyebrow at him, looking as calm and composed as ever – almost bored even, "I need to know you can actually do the work, princess."

For some reason, Luke's cheeks burned at the last word, but he managed to snort and retort, "that's Queen to you, peasant," and was blessed by the heavens when Deane actually laughed. And not a fake laugh at that; a real, full bellied out laugh that made Luke's stomach rumble with butterflies and his toes curl in his boots.

"You're a walking joke," Deane said, but he was chuckling and Luke stuck his tongue out childishly at him.

He waggled his eyebrows. "You know you love me."

Deane snorted in mock disgust and Luke giggled as he spun back around and shoved the shovel into a fresh pile of poop on the floor.

The feeling that crawled up his arms made him nauseous and he nearly gagged. Swallowing, he managed to dump the gooey pile in his wheelbarrow, hands trembling in disgust. When he turned back to face the stall, a familiar feeling rushed up his limbs and it felt like he was suddenly seeing the stall in all its microscopic detail.

Deane could see the obvious discomfort on Luke's face and his earlier annoyance with Luke was brought back a hundredfold. He grit his teeth, watching the way Luke was staring at the stall with a weird expression, like it was beneath him to do this job, and it made Deane so freaking angry that he couldn't help spitting, "I bet you haven't even lifted a pen by yourself in your entire life."

"Shut up," Luke growled back distractedly, still concentrating on the manure in front of him. The stall was so disgusting, so overwhelming and his brain was already wheeling, shaking, and reeling with that familiar feeling he'd tried to repress. The walls of the stalls needed to be fucking scrubbed, with an iron sponge thank you very much, and shouldn't there be like hay or sand or something on the bloody floor to make it easier to scoop up the manure and oh my god, was that stain not even leaving the floor?

Deane's eyes were wide in shock because one second, Luke had been staring at the stall in pure disgust, and now the teen was furiously scraping at the floor with his shovel, dumping the manure into the wheelbarrow like he'd been doing this all his life.

His hands trembled and he growled, almost to himself, "gloves, gloves...I need fucking gloves." He spun around in the stall and found a pair hanging on a hook by the doors and grabbed the yellow rubber gloves, shoving his hands in them before setting back to work.

"Uh..." Deane began in confusion, but the glare Luke shot at him made him shut up in surprise.

He raised his arms in surrender, unable to help the small smile playing on his lips, "Well then, maybe you have lifted one or two pens in your life," he admitted grudgingly, before turning back to mucking his own stall.

Deane basked in the silence as he worked; a little bit surprised that Luke was alarmingly quiet except for the occasional scrape of his shovel against the floor. He'd been so sure Luke would have whined and moaned throughout and never let him rest, until Deane would have ended up doing the entire job himself.

Deane was finished with the four stalls on his side of the stable in a matter of minutes, and was surprised when he turned around and Luke was still mucking the exact same stall. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his brow as he furiously scraped at a stain on the floor that obviously wasn't going to disappear any time soon.

Deane stared up at Luke and back down at the stain in obvious confusion, "Uh, Luke, you know it doesn't have to be completely spotless, right?"

"Then what's the point of cleaning it?" Luke replied, now scraping at the stain harder, the muscles in his arms straining.

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop...

Luke was shaking and ignoring the voice. The manure was all gone but the stall was still dirty, dirty, dirty. Why wasn't that stain leaving? Oh God, he needed to do something about the absolute filth that was the walls. His heart began to pound and he could feel the anxiety crawling up his arms. He was already breathing heavily as he rushed out of the stable almost automatically, and went by the taps, picking up an available bucket and scrub brush.

Deane's voice sounded muffled to him when the older man talked about going to grab some lunch. Luke's focus was completely on the stall in front of him.

Can you say neat freak or what? Dean thought to himself with an eye roll as he made his way back to the house. He was sure that Luke thought the stall was disgusting because he'd lived in clean and nice environments all his life, his mansion in the city probably left spotless every day by a paid cleaning service or something. One scan of the empty pastures around him as he left the stable told him that his brothers must've gone for a break too.

"How's it going?" Brick asked Deane as he entered the kitchen, in the process of whipping up some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while Samson made them milkshakes. Red, of course, was resting against the kitchen table, blinking lazily at his brothers.

"I have only just confirmed that Luke is indeed a stuck up brat," Deane replied, crossing his arms.

Samson smirked at him, used to Deane's cold self when it concerned Luke, "enjoying working with our dear queen?"

"Shut up," Deane growled, mortified that he was actually blushing.

It was when they had settled around the table about to eat that Samson noticed Luke still hadn't showed up.

"Where's Luke?" he asked curiously, "I thought you guys took the horses out. What's he still doing?"

"Took the horses out?" Deane snorted, "I told him to muck the stalls since he wanted a real chore."

"You didn't," Brick blinked in shock.

Deane was a bit taken aback at how Samson had paled and Red had stopped slurping on his milkshake.

"Oh shit," Samson growled, standing up from his chair so quickly that it toppled over and the rest of the brothers stumbled after him. Deane could feel his heart pounding in panic. Had he done something wrong? What was so horrifying about Luke mucking up the stalls?

His question was answered when he got to the stall. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the sight of Luke on his knees, wet and covered in dirt, biting his lower lip hard and scrubbing the wall of the stall with a scrub brush almost furiously, a dirty bucket of soapy water sitting next to him.

What. The. Hell.

Deane stared wide eyed because the spot Luke was currently scrubbing looked brand new. Being that the walls of that stall had been that murky colour for nearly ten years showed just how hard Luke must have been scrubbing to get the grime off.

"Luke!" Brick called a little too brightly, "it's time for a snack! Aren't you hungry?"

"Not finished," Luke growled back distractedly, "this place is so dirty, it's disgusting, how do you guys even survive? I'm very nearly done, I swear. Can you see how spotless this is compared to the other walls? By the time I'm done, this place will be five-star worthy."

Deane grit his teeth at the sound of those words and couldn't help biting out, "Our stable not up to your standards, princess?"

"Deane," Red hissed, elbowing him painfully in the ribs and Deane couldn't help wincing and jumping away.

Samson stalked over to Luke and forcefully grabbed him from the floor, picking him up and he tried so hard not to show how worried he was when he felt how badly Luke's hands were shaking.

"Stop," Samson growled with authority, "come grab a sandwich."

Luke's eyes were darting around the stall and Sam knew that the boy must undoubtedly be comparing the other dirty walls to the tiny spot he'd just cleaned and he knew the urge to clean the entire thing must be unbearable. So he didn't even hesitate, bodily lifting Luke off the floor and dumping him over his shoulder, carrying him out of the stable, the other Andersons in tow.

"Hey!" Luke cried but he was giggling, "Put me down!"

"Never!" Samson cried dramatically and they all started laughing as they headed to the house and he only dropped Luke when they got to the kitchen.

"Just jelly, right?" Brick asked cheerfully as he made his way to the counter and brought out two slices of bread from the pack.

Luke beamed with pleasure, "just jelly." His hands were still shaking as he took of his gloves and dumped them in the sink, turning on the tap to wash them and his hands clean.

Brick handed him his jelly sandwich when he was done, and he joined them on the table as they started to eat. Samson, Red and Brick noticed how Luke kept bouncing his knee up and down, his eyes obviously distracted and they knew Luke was probably still thinking about the stable.

So the minute Luke was done with his sandwich, Samson stood up, "come follow me to town, Luke. Let's get some groceries for the house."

Luke looked extremely uncomfortable, brown eyes big and darting around the room anxiously. "But the stall –"

"Leave that to Deane, come on," Samson said, making his way out of the kitchen and towards the back of the house where their truck was parked.

Luke lingered a bit before he finally decided to go along with Samson and they disappeared from the house.

"Okay, what the fuck was that?" Deane spat angrily when they were gone, "why do you guys keep pampering him like that? Since he obviously thinks our stalls are so dirty he can't stand them, why not just let him clean the bloody things?"

Brick stared at him in surprise. "Are you really that clueless? You're seriously telling me now that you don't know that Luke has OCD."

Deane was so taken aback he took a step backwards, blinking in shock. "He's got what?"

"Not OCD exactly, just OCD tendencies – according to Luke anyway," Red said in explanation, rolling his eyes at the word 'tendencies', "he just needs to have things in a certain cleanliness and orderliness sometimes or he'll get really frustrated and irritable. When he's especially stressed or anxious, he starts cleaning or arranging things in a certain order, almost unconsciously. Haven't you ever noticed? I mean, he was obviously worried or thinking hard about something yesterday which was why the tiny stain on his pants made him feel like he was going mad."

Deane felt horrible. He hadn't known that at all. But his brothers had and that didn't sit too well with him. He realized that he might have known Luke for most of his life, but he didn't actually know much about him and he wasn't sure he liked that one bit.

When Luke returned with Samson later, he was no longer twitchy. He didn't know what Samson had said or done while they were gone, but Luke was distracted by the groceries and the cookbook Samson had gotten along with them and seemed to have forgotten completely about the stables. He was going on and on about making lemon tarts just the way his grandma made them, and Deane was once again reminded of how annoying he found Luke's voice – he sounded like some highway diva.

After realizing and loathing the fact that his brothers knew a lot more about Luke than he did, Deane found himself unconsciously watching the teen as he moved around in the kitchen, absolutely fan-girling over the recipes and dishes in the cookbook like a little child.

"Oh my God, we definitely have to make pie, I mean what's a life without pie? And I've always wanted to try making a layered cake with ice-cream in between layers," he moaned sinfully, the sound making Deane's heart race and his muscles clench hard with pure unadulterated lust and his eyes grew wide with shock at how intense the feeling was. Good God, he needed to get laid. Luke was pressing the cookbook to his chest, "cake and ice-cream is my guilty pleasure."

"I bet," Deane couldn't help but snort and an unfamiliar feeling rose in his chest when Luke laughed, completely missing the jab as he stuck his tongue playfully out at him before turning back to the cookbook.

Deane felt uncomfortable and got up from his chair, "I'm heading back out," he called and his brothers waved him off as he left.

You've known him basically all his life and you never knew he had OCD? Deane thought furiously to himself and then he growled under his breath as he thought; why do I even care? and rolled his eyes as he got back to work.

*

"It's nearly been a week; do you think we should talk to Luke?" Samson asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest and biting his lower lip worriedly.

"We probably should, shouldn't we?" Brick replied, buttering up toast for their breakfast. It was Friday already, and according to the weather, it was going to be hot enough to fry an egg, "He hasn't spoken about it since he got here and I'm a little worried."

"I don't believe he ran away just because his parents wouldn't let him live in the countryside – that's just some serious bullshit," Red added, licking clean a tub of nutella with his fingers.

"Hello? May I remind you that this is Luke we're talking about?" Deane said dryly.

"Don't interrupt squirt," Brick said sternly, flicking a little bit of butter in Deane's direction, making the youngest Anderson scowl in disapproval, "Do you think his grandparents know why he's here?"

"Should we talk to them instead?" Samson asked, leaning off the counter, eyebrows rising excitedly, "they have to know something and if Luke had really run away, I'm a hundred per cent certain they would have sent him on the next flight right back. His parents might condone his stubbornness and how spoilt he is, but Grandpa and Grandma Davies won't take his shit."

That earned Samson chuckles from his brothers and Red rolled his shoulders, "we should definitely talk to Luke first. He'd feel betrayed if we went behind his back to talk to his grandparents. If his story is bullshit that's when I say we can butt in with his family."

"I really hope nothing too drastic happened," Samson said, thanking Brick as the oldest Anderson handed them all plates of toast and brought out the apple juice from their fridge.

Deane scoffed, "this is Luke we're talking about. Of course something drastic happened. I won't be surprised if he actually killed someone – ow!" he gasped because Brick had walked over to elbow him in the ribs.

"We all know you're secretly in love with him and that's why you get mad at everything he does," Red teased from his sitting position.

Deane scoffed and turned his gaze to his toast, "you guys are fucking bullies."

His brothers laughed, and they quickly finished up their breakfast just as Luke showed up, bouncing into their kitchen like he owned the place. He was dressed in a tank top, feet covered in the same knee-high brown leather cowboy boots of yesterday and a pair of faded blue jeans – and not just any jeans, tight skinny jeans that practically shaped his hips and hugged the firm globes of his apple shaped bottom, the light coloured material practically moulding over his thighs and calves and Deane felt like the room had suddenly become a hundred degrees hotter.

God, he really needed to let off some steam if freaking LUKE was making him hot.

"It is as hot as Satan's shower out there," Luke said as he took a seat on the counter, crossing his legs by the knee and using one hand to fan his face, making Deane notice the little droplets of sweat that collected on his collar bone.

Deane only then noticed that Luke had really changed over the past three years. In the back of his mind, all he could remember was that thin, gangly kid with the oversized clothes that just never left him alone. But Luke wasn't gangly or thin anymore; the word that would best currently describe him now was lithe – he was slim with just the right amount of flesh and muscle.

"Well aren't you just dressed for work today?" Deane said sarcastically.

Luke turned to smirk at him, "Oh, liking what you see?" he flirted with a sultry wink and Deane groaned in annoyance but before he could even think of a comeback, Luke was adding, "It's too hot to do shit today. I just want to bask in the shade with a milkshake."

"Oh, now you're speaking my language," Red laughed, reaching a hand out to give Luke a high five.

"Sorry Luke, but we've got shit to do and you wanted to help out, didn't you? Welcome to the countryside," Brick boomed, clapping Luke on the back and making the teen squeak unattractively, the pat nearly making him fall off his perch on the counter.

"Hell no," Luke replied as he readjusted himself, "Can you see this?"

He held his hands up and wiggled his fingers at them and Deane noticed the shimmering clear nail polish. Oh my God, he did not.

"I got these done yesterday – in the salon in town if I might add, and there is no way in hell I'm ruining such a perfect manicure. I'm not doing shit today," he pouted and crossed his arms, tilting his head up defiantly.

"Luke –" Brick began.

"No, don't even try because I'm not listening." He childishly clapped his hands over his ears and began singing 'la-la-la' off-key and really loudly.

"My God, he is so fucking annoying," Deane groaned with a roll of his eyes, "you deal with this because I'm not."

And he stalked out of the house.

Brick, Red, and Samson exchanged glances. Samson shrugged helplessly because he knew that when Luke set his mind on something, he sure as hell wasn't going to budge.

Brick sighed, "Come on Sam, let's go. We've got to finish up before it gets really hot. Red, you heard about the sun today, don't come outside – the last thing we need is you fainting on us."

Red flushed but waved them off, "I'll stay inside, you don't need to worry your little butts."

Luke knew that Red had a low case of hypoglycaemia and so his brothers didn't like to stress him out too much which resulted in Red being the laziest of the bunch. He basically did nothing around the house and consumed bouts of sugar. The few times he'd fainted because of it had worried his brothers so much they'd nearly had heart attacks and after that, Red was never to stay too long in the sun and never had to do anything strenuous.

Despite Red's lazy company – or rather, because of it – it didn't take long for Luke to become restless.

"I'm bored," he moaned a few hours later after the boys had their brief snack break and sat in wooden chairs on the porch steps, shaded by the roof, "what do you guys do for fun? I'm not a kid anymore so don't lie to me about where you go all those weekends ago that you just 'can't hang out because you need some family time'."

Red and Brick started laughing and Samson grinned at Luke and crossed his arms, "you're right, you're not a kid anymore and we are going to the pub tomorrow. You can come if you want, just bring your ID and leave your inhibitions."

Luke laughed hard at that, "leave my inhibitions? I can definitely work with that."

That had them all laughing and before they knew it, it was Saturday and they were getting ready to go to the pub.

"Okay guys, we're going to have to shorten the time we usually spend at the pub because no doubt about it, if Luke gets angry or stressed, he's going to want to either clean the entire place or rearrange the drinks behind the bar to fit his tastes and God knows that could take forever."

"Or how about we don't get Luke stressed or angry?"

Deane clenched his teeth as they spoke. He hated that they were treating Luke like an egg because of his OCD; didn't he have a prescription or something to deal with it? If he didn't, he'd better start looking of ways to get one because Deane sure as hell wasn't going to treat him any differently. Surely they couldn't keep walking on eggshells around him just because it'll trigger a cleaning session. Deane couldn't be arsed to do that.

He crossed his arms, already dressed for the pub, watching his brothers move around the kitchen talking and getting ready.

Brick looked jittery and Deane couldn't stand it so he blurted, "Okay, B, spit it out."

Brick nearly jumped out of his skin, blushing furiously as Sam and Red turned to look at him curiously.

"I'm off to see Sabby tonight and may or may not be back till tomorrow," he said quickly.

"Whoop!" Red wolf-whistled, sauntering over to drop a heavy arm over Brick's shoulders, "you gonna ask her to marry you yet?"

"Shut up," Brick blushed, wriggling away from Red's grasp. He'd been dating Sabrina for nearly a year now, and was convinced he was madly in love. But Sabrina was old-fashioned, and he vividly remembered her telling him that she'd prefer to know her boyfriend for at least three years before she would even think about marrying him and Brick wasn't even half-way down the mark.

"Samson's got Jenny, you've got Sabby and Deane's got Luke – I'm one lonely bunny."

"I've not got Jenny, what are you talking about?" Samson replied but his cheeks were burning red with a blush.

"Hey!" Deane snapped in indignation, "don't you even dare insinuate that I and that princess have anything to do with each other!"

"That's sexy princess to you," Luke snorted, and Samson jumped and clutched at his chest.

"Jesus Luke, can you use the doorbell for once in your life? You're going to give me a darn heart attack!"

Luke laughed and shrugged, "the spare key's always under the potted plant in front of the door and besides, you guys never lock the door – I take it as an invitation to come in."

"Come on, are y'all ready?" Deane asked, getting off his perch against the counter, "drinks are waiting!"

"Let's go!"

They had to walk a few minutes out of the ranch to the main road to grab a cab and Deane had to endure Luke's excited yipping as they walked along. God, he couldn't wait to get to the pub so that the music and noise of the bar would drown out his voice.

They luckily managed to catch a cab and in another couple of minutes were in the pub. The bouncer at the door asked Luke for his ID to which he replied in offense, "Do I seriously look sixteen?" and they were finally at the bar, ordering drinks.

Deane ignored the fact that Luke had chosen to sit directly beside him and was now staring at him.

"Hi!"

Deane turned around at the sound of the voice and noticed that it was Jenny.

"Hey!" Luke said when he spotted the girl from the day he'd arrived, "how's it going?"

She smiled at him. "I'm surprised you're still here. Aren't you worried about your parents?"

Deane tensed, but Luke scoffed and waved Jenny off, "oh please, like they care. So where do you live?"

And just like that, Deane was saved by Jenny. He made a mental note to make sure he thanked her later for the distraction. Brick had already disappeared, and he knew the oldest Anderson had probably gone to meet with his girlfriend and Red was in a corner, laughing and drinking beer with the locals. Samson was nowhere to be found.

He'd had his fill of a couple drinks and was eyeing the crowd on the dance floor when someone was suddenly pressing up against his back, breath laced with alcohol as that familiar high-pitched but now really deep and sultry voice whispered, "Come dance with me, Deane."

Luke's warm breath washed over his neck, making him shiver and he turned around to look blankly at him. "You're drunk."

"Drunk on you," Luke winked back, swaying on his feet as he wrapped his arms around Deane's shoulders and planted a sloppy kiss on his neck. Well, it was good to know Luke was still Luke even when he was drunk, Deane thought with an eye roll.

"Ugh, get off," Deane growled, squirming out of his grasp and Luke pulled away, "where's Jenny?"

"Off somewhere with Samson," Luke slurred in reply, "Come on, Deane. Dance with me," his golden brown eyes twinkled from the bright lights of the bar.

Deane blinked out of it and then shook his head, "thanks but no thanks."

"Suit yourself," Luke shrugged with a wink, licking his lips and then moving to the dance floor.

Deane should have looked away. He really should have. He didn't know why exactly he couldn't take his eyes of Luke as the teen moved to the dance floor and began to gyrate and roll those slim hips to the low throb of the beat in the pub. Their eyes locked and for a brief second, time froze. It felt like they were the only two in the pub suddenly, and Deane couldn't hear anything over the sound of his racing heartbeat.

The dance floor was packed and soon enough, Luke was flanked by a thrum of ladies giggling and trying to catch his eye, in the process ending the moment.

Deane turned his gaze away and finished up his drink, forcing himself not to look back at the dance floor. By the time their time in the pub was over and it was late, Deane was in a foul mood. He honestly didn't know why.

Luke was singing loudly as they walked home when the cab dropped them off the main road which had the rocky path that led to the ranch. He'd sobered up, but not completely, because he was singing passionately at the top of his lungs 'Dope' by Lady Gaga.

Red and Sam were laughing and trying to sing along, while Deane rolled his eyes at them.

"I'm sorry and I love you, sing with me bell bottom blue! I keep on searching for an answer cause I need you more than dope...I need you more than dope!"

"God have mercy, why won't you ever leave me alone?" Deane cried, nearly stumbling but managing to catch himself when Luke suddenly jumped on his back, wrapping his legs tightly around Deane's torso and singing even louder, his voice echoing in the farmlands around them.

"Each day I cry! I feel so alone from living high!"

Deane struggled to shove him off, but Luke didn't budge, and he sighed and gave up, grabbing onto Luke's thighs to keep him steady.

By the time they got to the ranch, Deane was more than certain that Luke had fallen asleep on his back. His breaths were soft and even, puffing against his neck and his weight was heavy and warm, hands limp around his neck.

"Remind me never to let him drink alcohol again," Deane groaned when they finally got to the ranch, "he's worse when he's drunk."

Red laughed and yawned, stretching, "Are you going to take him to Grandpa Davies'?"

Deane sighed, nudging at the weight on his back but Luke was dead to the world. "Might as well. I'm already carrying the sack of potatoes."

Samson smiled tiredly, "See you in a bit then."

Deane grunted and cursed all the way to the Davies' humble abode. He was so going to kill Luke the next morning.

"Deane, my boy, is that you?" Grandpa Davies called from his rocking chair in front of the house. It was no news to him that the old man sometimes suffered from insomnia – he never talked about it to them – so he was sometimes outside either staring at the stars or reading a book or smoking a pipe. "Oh darn it, is that Luke?"

Deane managed a husky laugh, "Yeah. He got a bit too intoxicated at the pub with us."

Davies laughed, "That's Luke, alright. Come on and I'll show you his room."

The old man tried to wobble off his chair but Deane stopped him.

"There's no need, just point out his room and I'll drop him off."

"Right, okay, it's the first one on the left down the hallway."

Deane followed the instructions, kicking the room door open. He wasn't surprised to see how immaculate the room was. It was almost too sanitary for Deane's liking – everything was arranged in some sort of chorological order. Bottles of cream according to height, perfumes according to colour forming a little rainbow, combs and brushes according to length – it made Deane vividly aware of Luke's OCD 'tendencies'.

Deane gently spun Luke around into his arms and was dropping him on the bed when Luke's arms suddenly tightened around his neck and the teen was whispering sleepily, "Mm, take me home, Deane."

Deane froze, staring down at him, his heart skipping in his chest, but Luke was still fast asleep.

Deane's gaze unwillingly dropped to Luke's pouty pink mouth before he was almost violently ripping himself away from Luke's arms, shoving a hand through his hair. Luke curled into a ball, oblivious, making a small sound of pleasure in the back of his throat. Okay, Deane really, really needed to get off and soon.

He bit his lower lip indecisively before rolling his eyes and taking off Luke's boots, not knowing why he was blushing when he put the shoes neatly beside the double row of shoes at the foot of the bed.

Despite himself, that night Deane fell asleep to the memory of the whisper of a breath of alcohol on his neck, and an echo of Lady Gaga's 'Dope'.

*

"Do you not have a shirt that doesn't have a stain on it?" Luke asked Deane incredulously, "I can swear that all your shirts have some traditional stain or other."

Deane didn't even bother responding, instead flipping Luke off as he bit into his sandwich.

"Guys, I want to ride one of the horses," Luke moaned, "I've been here nearly a month and I haven't even straddled a horse, how's that even sensible? One can't come to a ranch and not ride a mother frigging horse."

Brick laughed, "I'm going to check on the fences later. You can come with if you want?"

"I want to go with Deane," Luke teased, wagging his eyebrows at the man in question.

Deane swallowed what he was chewing to say, "Fuck no."

Luke fluttered his eyelashes, "Oh come on, you know you want to."

"No."

"I'll scream."

"And I'll ignore you."

Luke started screaming.

"Oh my God shut up! Shut up!" Red gasped, clutching his ears, "Deane just go with him for fuck's sake!"

"No."

Luke started screaming again.

"Deane!"

Deane didn't budge and Luke didn't budge either until his screams started mimicking Tarzan's and Deane grit his teeth so hard his jaw popped.

"For fuck's sake!" Deane growled, standing up, throwing his hands up dramatically in defeat and stalking to the stables.

"I knew you couldn't resist my charms!" Luke called, stumbling after him and waving at the other Andersons who shook their heads at him.

"You're a piece of work, you know that, right?" Deane growled as Luke jogged up to him in the stable.

"Oh I know," Luke flirted and Deane sighed, knowing that any retort he came up with will immediately be sexualized in one way or another. Besides, he was trying not to bloody kill the teen.

Deane got on the white horse called Celia, and was surprised when Luke got on Bruce, a dark brown horse easily, easing it out of the stall like a pro.

Luke blushed, "Okay, fine, you know my secret. I took horse riding lessons back in the city, happy?"

Deane snorted, "You were already planning on rebelling against your parents a long time ago, I see."

Luke didn't say anything to that and Deane shrugged. They trotted around the acres of land for a very long time with Luke talking a mile a minute, while Deane barely paid any attention to him. Deane was deliberately avoiding the hilled part of the land when Luke asked teasingly, "Are you still afraid of heights, Deane?"

Deane turned to glare at him, hissing out through gritted teeth, "of course not."

"Remember those days we used to go on picnics on top of the hill and you'd always opt out because the height made you nauseous? The times we did manage to bring you up there, you got so pale we thought you got bitten by a snake."

Deane wanted to tell him to shut up but instead tugged his horse in the direction of the hill and began making his way up. He refused to admit that the fact Luke remembered something so trivial about him pleased him immensely and made his stomach fill with warmth.

"Oh, we got a badass over here!" Luke giggled and Deane flipped him off as they made their way up the slope in a slow and steady climb.

Deane was gripping the reins too tightly, he knew, and he his heart was pounding frantically underneath his ribcage. His breathing was coming out in punches through his nostrils and oh God, he was doing to DIE. Why on earth was he even doing this? What the hell was he trying to prove?

"I just wanted to be hot because I'm best when I'm in love and I'm in love with you!" Luke sang loudly, scaring off some birds in the trees on the hill, "touch me! Touch me!"

Deane glared at him.

"Really you need to buy Lady Gaga's new album because it is the shit. Have you heard 'Do What You Want'? 'G.U.Y.' is definitely my favourite though."

Just a couple minutes over the hill, Deane, you'll be fine, Deane told himself when he finally got to the top of the hill.

He stupidly glanced down and nearly fainted. Oh God he was high, he was so high, too high...he was going to fall and break his neck and die...the horse was going to lose its footing...he was going to go flying and crack his spine or smash his skull...

"Deane?"

"What?" Deane snapped, his voice coming out strangled.

"You're killing your horse."

Deane swallowed and slowly loosened his death grip only then just noticing how agitated Celia had become, whinnying in distress.

"Race you!" Luke suddenly yelled, and before Deane could comprehend what was happening, Luke had leaned over from his horse and gave Celia a loud slap on the rear, sending the white horse careening down the hill at full speed.

"OH MY GOD!" Deane screamed at the top of his lungs, holding onto the reigns for dear life, his knees practically digging into the sides of his horse.

HE WAS GOING TO DIE, OH GOD HE WAS GOING TO FUCKING DIE!

The bottom of the hill seemed to be rushing into his face and he couldn't breathe, feeling lightheaded and shaky. He saw his life flash brilliantly before his eyes, and the minute the horses got to the bottom of the hill, Deane was tugging harshly on the reigns and flying off the horse, collapsing to his knees on the grass beside Celia and sucking in panicky breaths, hot tears of panic in his eyes as he heaved uncontrollably, stomach clenching and unclenching with spasms yet nothing spewed forth from his parted lips.

Fuck, fuck, what the fuck.

Luke got off Bruce, laughing so hard he doubled over, unable to breathe.

"Oh my God, you should have seen your face! Of course not my foot! You looked like you were racing to your death!"

Deane was going to fucking EXPLODE. He got up from the ground, bursting to the brim with barely supressed anger.

"You fucking ASSHOLE! I'm going to fucking murder you!"

Luke stopped laughing and his eyes grew wide with fear when he saw the murderous glint in Deane's eyes.

I'm going to fucking kill him. I'm going to fucking crush his stupid fucking face.

Luke squeaked in surprise when Deane practically grabbed his cheeks in a bruising grip and crushed their lips hard together.

Oh. Oh.

Luke didn't hesitate, whimpering softly in the back of his throat and grabbed Deane's hair in his fists, crushing his mouth back so hard against Deane's that their teeth pressed and bit painfully against their lips, but it only served to make the kiss that much hotter.

They both couldn't breathe, but didn't want to stop the furious kiss, practically grinding their mouths together. The kiss was all lips and teeth and hot breath, no tongue, and it was so bloody intense. It was like only after their lips had met that both of them realized just how badly they've wanted to kiss each other since God knows when.

They pulled apart with a wet sounding smooch when they were literally gasping for air and Deane growled huskily, his eyes still tightly shut, "don't you fucking dare do that again or I swear I will fucking cut off your fucking head."

"That's a lot of fucking going on there," Luke replied breathlessly, his eyes also closed, still feeling high on the adrenaline and the feel of Deane's lips against his and he was practically shaking with the intensity of emotions warring through him.

Deane was shaking just as bad and he laughed at Luke's response and then they were both laughing, foreheads resting against the other's, Luke's hands still lightly fisting Deane's hair while the latter was still cupping Luke's cheeks.

Their eyes opened at the same time and they locked gazes. Luke's breath hitched and Deane felt like his heart was going to jump out of his ribcage. His eyes were hot and he felt like crying or screaming, he wasn't sure which. God, he just needed to get rid of the fucking pressure on his chest.

"You want me," Luke whispered huskily, his voice soft and breathy and laced with awe and disbelief as he stared up at Deane, his pupils blown to hell.

Those three words, however, seemed to bring Deane out of whatever trance he was in and he jumped away from the teen, glaring at him, "Don't...we should probably head back," he hissed, turning back to his horse in silent dismissal.

The rejection stung.

Luke blinked, hands shaky, "uh, right...yeah...we should head back, yeah," he said hoarsely, fumbling to get back on top of Bruce.

The silence was heavy as they made their way back.

"I'm sorry," Luke finally said softly, "I shouldn't have –"

"Forget it," Deane interrupted, his voice harsh.

Luke flinched at the tone and didn't reply. On the ride back to the stables, Luke tried hard not to let his hurt and confusion show. The tension was thick in the air as Luke tried to figure out just what the hell had just happened.

*

Luke froze when he distinctly felt four pairs of eyes focused on him, the silence deafening.

He looked up at the Andersons, his hands momentarily fluttering over the dish he was trying to wash in the sink.

"Uh...do I have something stuck on my face or –?"

Red, Sam, and Deane glanced at Brick for guidance and not for the first time in his life, Brick hated that he was the oldest.

He sighed and said, "Luke, it's been over three weeks. We need to talk about you and why you're here."

Luke stiffened even further, and Deane saw the moment his expression shut off.

"There's nothing to talk about," he said blankly, "I already told you; I wanted to live here. My parents said no. I told them to suck it and came here anyway. End of story."

"What about school? What are you going to do about that?" Samson asked, crossing his arms over his chest, "you had a life back home – you can't just have dumped everything at home to come here. That doesn't sound right."

"Except it is," Luke hissed, "I'm here, aren't I? And I didn't know it was impossible to apply to a new school," he said sarcastically.

"Honestly, how can you be so selfish?" Deane growled making Luke flinch, "after all the shit they do for you, basically spoiling you rotten and you run away because they don't let you live here?"

"Can I just remind you that I'm freaking nineteen years old – I'm legal, old enough to make my own fucking decisions and it is none of your business."

"We consider ourselves your family, Luke," Samson said, "we're just concerned about you. Haven't your parents said anything? Aren't they worried too?"

"I bet they offered him the world but it's not enough is it?" Deane snorted, "This is probably one of those silly tantrums he's throwing because he can't get what he wants – ow!" he gasped in pain when Brick elbowed him in the ribs, eyes wide.

It was only then that Deane realized that Luke was arranging the cutlery in the sink according to their lengths, his hands slightly shaking. Deane bit his lip, feeling just a tad guilty for yelling. Just a tad.

"It's still none of your business," Luke replied, completely unaware of what he was doing and unable to stop. He glanced around the kitchen and in a flourish; he was arranging everything – adjusting the chairs to a certain angle, straightening the aprons on their hooks, folding the napkins –

Brick rolled his eyes and moved up to Luke, lifting him up and throwing him over his shoulder.

"Hey!" Luke cried.

"Lunch time's over, Queen Luke! Time to get back to work."

Luke managed to laugh, and Deane was the only one who noticed when Luke's hands reached up to hide the fact that his eyes were watery with tears.

*

"You're right. It's none of my business."

Luke stared at the black plastic bag Deane was holding out toward him and then back up at Deane questioningly. "What's that?"

"I got it for you. In town."

Luke frowned suspiciously and reached for the bag tentatively, pulling it open to reveal two Rubik's cubes. His gaze softened as he brought out the bigger cube, blinking slowly. The other cube was pocket sized.

"I thought that might help if you have it in handy. With your, uh...tendencies."

When Luke looked back up at Deane, the older man was blushing furiously even though his expression was set in a scowl that would send a scarecrow running.

Luke's heart was racing as he murmured, "oh. Thank you."

"Yeah," Deane replied, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and walking stiffly away.

Luke knew that even though Deane didn't voice it, this was his way of saying he was sorry for what he'd said the previous day. And Deane was never sorry – at least not to him.

What exactly did this mean? Luke thought, his heart pounding harshly underneath his ribcage. He stared down at the Rubik's cube, biting his lower lip and allowing himself – for the first time in a week – to think about his kiss with Deane. He'd deliberately pushed it to the back of his mind and obviously so had Deane, because after that, they didn't mention it and went back to their usual flirting/snide relationship.

But now, staring at the cube in his hands and feeling like his heart was positively aching, Luke realized that he was quite possibly falling madly in love.

*

"Your mum called again," Emma Davies said to her grandson, poking her head through his room door.

Luke was just getting ready to go out, but he froze in-between brushing his hair to stare at her.

"What did she say?" he asked tentatively.

The small old woman sighed and said nothing and Luke gritted his teeth, dropping his hair brush to stare at the table top.

"She asked how...how you were doing. If you were fine," Emma spat the last word with venom, "can you imagine that?" she asked rhetorically, "they even had the audacity to send a bank card."

"They can take their bloody money because I sure as hell don't need it. God, they're the worst!" he scoffed bitterly and Emma walked into the room to gently stroke Luke's shoulders with her frail, bony hands. She wanted to argue with Luke, tell him that his parents were like big children but she refrained.

"Heading back to the pub tonight?" she asked, changing the topic.

"Yeah," Luke replied, "Ma, I don't know what to do about Deane," he sighed, sounding completely dejected, "he's giving me mixed signals. One second he's staring at me like I own the earth, and the next it's like I'm the chewing gum that got stuck under his boot."

Emma laughed at his analogies, frowning when she noticed Luke was about to reach for his desk – probably to start rearranging the items because he was obviously stressed about Deane – but then changed his mind and picked up a colourful Rubik's cube from one of his drawers and began messing with it, turning and twisting it.

It took a second for her to realize that he was channelling his OCD tendencies into the cube by trying to figure it out.

"Well, that's smart," she remarked, "where did you get that?"

Luke blushed without looking up. "Deane got it for me."

Emma blinked in shock, and then she laughed softly, "Well, I see what you mean by mixed signals."

"You know what I mean?" he exclaimed, finally looking up and rolling his eyes in mild frustration.

It had been nearly two weeks since the kiss, and Luke had already come to terms with the fact that Deane was hell bent on denying his feelings. Luke knew deep down that Deane could feel the attraction simmering between them, could feel the sexual tension – there was no way that kiss had been an accident or one sided – hell, Deane had been the one to kiss him in the first place. He just didn't understand why Deane was being so damn stubborn about admitting his feelings.

"Woo him," Emma said simply, "buy him flowers or perfume or whatever it is you kids buy to woo each other, show him you're serious...sweep him off his feet."

Luke smiled at Emma, looking at her through the reflection of his mirror, "thanks gran, you're the best."

"That's what I'm here for, isn't it?"

*

Luke could tell that Deane felt extremely uncomfortable. Each time his gaze met with the older man's, he felt his heart lurch painfully underneath his ribcage but then Deane would just scowl at him and roll his eyes, finding something else to stare at.

He could fool himself but he wasn't fooling Luke – Luke wasn't about to give up. He was hell bent on plain forcing Deane to admit his feelings. He'd changed his flirting, adding subtle undertones that suggested a deeper meaning, indirectly letting Deane know that his flirts weren't at all harmless anymore. He emphasized on the definite undercurrent of sexuality that came with the flirting now, and he could tell it was making Deane more irritated with him now than usual.

Good.

When Deane's gaze involuntarily drifted back to Luke, the teen actually smirked at him making Deane scowl and rip his gaze away, mumbling something under his breath that was probably a curse or something worse.

Deane picked up his bottle of beer and Luke held back his giggle when Deane scowled even harder when he realized he'd finished it. He glanced up at the bar, but Luke could tell he didn't feel too keen on getting up to grab another bottle. The pub was filled to the brim, the dance floor bursting with people and the stools at the bar all occupied. Deane was stuck with Luke in one of the seating areas while Sam was off somewhere with Jenny, Brick was off with Sabby, and Red was on the dance floor with the locals, drinking, laughing and being the good sport that he was.

Luke felt his heartbeat go into overdrive as he sucked in his stomach and took in deep breaths. This was Deane – there was nothing different here. Well, except maybe the fact that he'd only realized that he was falling in love but that didn't matter now.

Deane blinked when Luke was suddenly in his vision. He'd moved from his seat to sit directly beside Deane, plastering a smirk on his lips that hid his true emotions.

It took him a second to realize that he actually felt... emotionally vulnerable.

And it scared him shitless.

"Come dance with me hot shot," he said with a grin. Oh, he was so skilled at acting.

Deane looked away from him with a frustrated sigh, "Please go away."

Luke ignored the new feeling of pain in his chest and slid up the black couch to plaster himself against Deane's side, leaning close to whisper in his ear, "I know you can feel this – whatever it is between us. And I'm not afraid to admit I want more. I want you." God, Luke felt like he was opening his chest, leaving his heart out raw and bleeding, and even though he was terrified about how he felt, he knew Deane just had to feel the same way.

Deane stood up from the seat to glare down at Luke, "you don't know what you're talking about," he snapped, "I'm going to get another drink."

Luke swallowed back the rejection. Was that a hitch in Deane's breath when he'd sidled close? He smirked triumphantly and stood up, practically skipping after Deane as he made his way to the bar.

"Leave me alone, pest."

"Not until you admit that you want some of this ass."

"You're going to grow grey hairs waiting for that to happen, princess."

"Oh," Luke whispered, once again plastered to his back, lips brushing against his earlobe, and Deane shuddered at the feeling – was that disgust or attraction? – Luke settled on the latter, obviously, "oh, but I do love when you call me princess," he whispered sultrily.

Deane clenched his hands into fists. "Get off me."

Luke's heart was about to pound out of his ribs, ignoring the flare of pain in his chest as he rolled his eyes and moved only slightly away, leaving his hand trailing suggestively up Deane's, "we're going to be so explosive together – I can see it," he whispered sincerely, his voice holding no venom or sexual undertone. It was the plain truth – so close to how he felt inside.

And of course, Dean scoffed off his feelings, "In your dreams."

God, this hurt. But Luke was made of tougher armour. "Come on Deane, time's a-wasting. Dance with me – let's show those people on the dance floor how it's really done."

Deane was about to reply, when another voice interrupted them from beside Luke.

"If he's not dancing with you I'm all up for it."

Deane frowned and glanced at the boy standing beside Luke. He was dressed way too formal for the pub, in a very nice purple silk long-sleeved shirt that was buttoned all the way up, fitted black slacks adorning his legs. His hair was a mass of wild reddish-brown curls, and his eyes were big and green – not that beautiful pale green like Deane but dark green, like emeralds. He didn't look a day over sixteen plus the clothes practically screamed 'look at me, I'm rich!' – Which meant he would fit right in with Luke.

Luke's eyes followed the stranger's body with interest and he managed a sincere but bright smile at him before turning back to Deane to say, "Your call, hot stuff."

Deane turned around back to face the bar, hissing through his teeth, "great," he said sarcastically when he took in the new guy's appearance, "another Luke. Can both of you just fuck off?"

"Jeez, what's his problem?" the stranger asked rhetorically and his voice was really deep and he spoke really slowly, like he had a voice impairment or something.

Deane didn't hear Luke's reply because he was already off with the stranger to the dance floor.

Luke pulled the stranger quickly to the dance floor, blinking back the sudden hotness behind his eyelids. He was only hurting because he cared – God, after all those years, all those taunts and his heart chooses now of all times to give a shit!

Deane was a lot meaner than he was usually. Sure, he normally said snide things but he was never this cruel. That had to mean something, right? It just had to.

Luke couldn't help thinking that this stranger with the huge curls was cute. His voice was a seductive low timbre that sent shivers up Luke's spine and he spoke quite slow, as if he was only learning how to form words – it wasn't exactly a turn off.

"You're not from around here, are you?" the boy asked when they got to the dance floor and began to dance to 'Under Control' by Calvin Harris, Alesso and Hurts.

Luke blinked at the stranger, and then smiled, "what makes you say that?"

The cute boy smirked and nodded at his shirt. "Last time I checked, there wasn't a Topshop around here."

Luke glanced down at his t-shirt and then back up at the boy in surprise, "how do you know it's from Topshop? Hell, even I don't know that. My parents do all the shopping."

"That's cute," the boy laughed, "I'm Henry by the way."

"Luke, nice to meet you. So you're obviously not from around these parts," Luke said, "I don't know where that shirt is from but it's definitely not from around town."

Henry laughed, the sound deep and resonating, "they do have some nice shops in town. I'm actually going there tomorrow, do you want to come?"

Luke's eyes brightened as he remembered what his grandma had told him about wooing Deane.

"Count me in!"

Henry beamed, "Great! I've made a friend!"

They both laughed at that.

At the end of the night, Luke had had a lot of fun with Henry. They had so much in common and it wasn't just because he was a spoiled city boy just like Luke.

"I'll call you," Henry was saying in his seductive slow drawl as Deane approached, the bar already emptying for the night.

"I'll be expecting your call," Luke smiled in excitement, looking forward to shopping with him, "See you tomorrow!"

Luke turned to Deane with a happy smile and he refused to let his smile wither away when Deane didn't so much as look at him, his jaw set in a tense line. Luke frowned curiously at that – Deane only grit his jaw when he was really mad at something. He didn't say anything and stalked out of the bar, glancing around the departing people probably for Red and Sam. Brick was once again spending the night at Sabby's – he'd been going there more often now and Luke was so close to telling Brick to say fuck it to Sabby's traditional values and just ask the girl to marry him already.

Someone in the distance waved and Luke recognized the figure as Red, Sam standing beside him and Deane made his way to them, Luke following closely.

They walked in silence while Red and Sam talked about the night and the new faces they'd seen.

It took a second for it to click as in Luke's head.

Was Deane probably jealous because of Henry? He felt a slow smile spread across his lips as he said almost gleefully, "Deane, your jealousy is showing."

Deane didn't respond, and Luke didn't know what to say to that, so he remained quiet, biting his lip.

Deane you fucking bastard, stop being so goddamn stubborn.

Just as they got to the ranch, Luke grabbed Deane's arm and pulled him close. Deane gasped in surprise and stumbled into the teen and Luke leaned up to brush their noses together as he whispered huskily, "I want you, and I'm going to have you."

Deane glared so hard at him it could have drilled holes in his head. "That arrogance is really going to get you nowhere."

"Yeah?" Luke replied, feeling his heart begin to throb underneath his ribcage when Deane's eyes darkened and then dropped to his lips.

There it was! Luke thought, his entire body throbbing along with the frantic pulse of his heart, there was no mistaking Deane's blown pupils and slightly accelerated breath. Luke's gaze dropped to his mouth and he felt his stomach clench hard when Deane darted his tongue out almost unconsciously to wet his lips.

Luke deliberately leaned in close to puff his hot breath against Deane's lips, letting just a whisper of a breath separate their lips before he pulled away with a teasing but genuine smile – not his usual smirk – winking at Deane as he said, "Goodnight, sexy."

Deane's voice was slightly husky as he replied, "goodnight yourself."

Luke's expression brightened and a lovely flush crept up his cheeks as he smiled almost shyly before turning and practically skipping away.

Deane liked him. He just had to. What just happened proved it.

Now he just had to woo him, like grandma said.

*

Luke stared at the shopping bags covering every inch of the Andersons' kitchen table. There had to be over twenty bags of different colours and sizes on the table, each one from a different shop.

Luke cupped his cheeks which were burning red.

"Oh God, I didn't realize I got so much stuff," he said in distress, "will Deane be mad?"

Red, Sam, and Brick snickered at each other. They were trying hard not to stare in shock at what looked like a billion bags on their kitchen table, all stuff that Luke had gotten for Deane in town.

"It's just, almost everything I saw reminded me of Deane and I just had to get it, you know? Like this shirt – ugh, I just know how it's going to fill his arms or the jeans I got from American Apparel, holy Jesus his thighs would look sinful – and of course I also got a gold watch because we all need a watch, am I right? And Deane doesn't seem to have a watch anyway, but then I got a silver one too because we need both colours right? Then I was like what if Deane doesn't even like gold or silver? So I got a leather watch too just in case and I figured leather would go well with his leather boots too which made me realize that Deane only has that really one old pair of brown boots and that led me to buying these fucking sexy black leather boots –"

"Luke!" Brick interrupted sharply, his chest heaving with soft chuckles, "I'm sure he'll love the stuff. Granted, I don't think he'll take everything but he'll appreciate the thought."

The Andersons repressed the urge to coo when Luke's face reddened even more and he covered his face shyly behind his hands.

"I'm in so deep, God," he whispered, "God; I've never felt like this. I've never gone on a shopping spree and bought absolutely nothing for myself. Jesus, he's going to think I'm obsessed."

"Uh, what's going on?"

Luke nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Deane's voice, his heart slamming painfully against his ribcage.

"Oh...h-hi Deane."

"I see you went shopping with your new buddy," Deane said, his tone bored as he made his way into the kitchen, "my question is why is the stuff here? You need approval from us or something?"

"Uhm...actually," Luke looked at the brothers for help but they just shrugged and gave him encouraging looks. He swallowed hard and continued, "Actually, I got the stuff for you."

Deane's eyes grew wide, and he glanced at the table and then back at Luke.

"Everything?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," Luke replied, spouting out false bravado and crossing his arms, "I know it's a bit much but I'm sure you'll love the stuff. For example," Luke rushed over to one of the bags to pull out a lovely cowboy hat, "I know you don't have one so I got one but then I wasn't sure what colour you liked so I got them in all the colours – which is just three colours so it's not too excessive –"

"You got me the same hat in three colours?" Deane interrupted, not hiding how appalled he was at that.

Luke dropped the hat neatly back into the bag with the other two and began fumbling, eyes rapidly searching for his Rubik's cube. He couldn't do this, fuck; he needed something to focus on. He felt like his life was spiralling out of control. In the end, he started rearranging the bags according to colour and height, lighter and shorter ones in the front and darker taller ones in the back, the task only making him feel slightly in control.

"And whose money did you use to buy me all this stuff?" Deane began. Luke flinched.

"Deane," Samson began in warning, but Deane ignored him.

Luke replied through clenched teeth, "my parents sent me money – it's no big deal."

"They sent you money. They know you ran away and they sent you money. Jesus fucking Christ, are they even real? You know what, that's not even important, why did you buy me this stuff? I don't need any of this shit."

"Deane –" Sam tried again, but this time Luke interrupted.

"Of course you don't need it," Luke began with a roll of his eyes, even though he was burning on the inside, "I just thought –"

"I'm not a fucking charity case," Deane hissed through gritted teeth, "if I wanted new shit, I would have gotten myself new shit. I don't need your fucking money."

Luke stared at Deane in shock and hurt and then he masked those emotions with anger as he spat, "You know, a simple 'no, thank you' would have fucking sufficed you asshole," before he turned and stomped out of the kitchen, banging the door on his way out and making the Andersons flinch.

"You really are a dick," Brick said, "seriously? Did you really have to go through all that just to reject the stuff? Why do you have to be so unnecessarily cruel?"

"Not to mention blind," Red added, raising one eyebrow, "I cannot believe you actually asked him why he got you the gifts – in case you don't know what that word is. Deane Jesus, crack open your thick skull – it's almost painfully obvious that the teenager is in love with you. Isn't it written in some rule book or something that when you like someone you try to take care of them, make them feel special?"

Deane gritted his teeth and crossed his arms, swamped entirely with so much guilt it was choking. And the thing was he knew exactly why he was being extra mean. After – God, he hadn't even thought about it since it happened – after their kiss of nearly a month ago, Luke had this notion that Deane was in love with him or some shit and it pissed Deane off for him to be so fucking self-centred to think that Deane felt like that.

Because he didn't feel like that. It was just a stupid kiss because he was high on adrenaline because – no thanks to the stupid teenager – Deane had thought he was going to fucking die.

Not to mention...it was...it had been his first kiss. His cheeks heated up with a violent blush at that thought, and along with the rush came a self-dignified bout of anger because Luke had stolen his first kiss. He didn't care that that made him sound ridiculously childish or that he was the one that had in fact, kissed Luke, but what had happened had happened.

His eyes strayed over to the gifts on the table and he was suddenly hit with the seriousness of the situation. Luke really had a little crush going on – there was no way he was in love with Deane; that was too far-fetched. His cheeks flooded with heat and he felt extremely embarrassed – for himself or Luke, he wasn't sure.

God, he'd gotten Deane the same hat in three different colours. Even he had to admit the thought was endearing. He put himself in Luke's shoes and cringed inwardly. All this while, had Luke really been serious about this? The new sexual undercurrent with his flirting, the way he'd been practically forcing Deane to admit feelings he did not have.

He felt horribly uncomfortable and guilty.

He glared up at his brothers, ignoring how gruff as he sounded as he said, "this doesn't mean anything. I don't like him like that."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say bro, just go apologize okay?" Red replied and Deane ground his teeth harder, knowing that his brothers didn't believe him but he didn't have time for that now.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way out of the house and towards the Davies' abode. As he closed in on the building, he slowed his walk, swallowing thickly. If Luke had come back upset, no doubt he must've told his grandparents about it and Deane was really not ready to face the wrath of Grandpa and Grandma Davies.

The old man was on his rocking chair in front of the house, smoking a pipe.

He didn't say anything as Deane approached and that made Deane feel even worse than if he'd received a scolding.

He was about to enter the house when the man finally spoke.

"If you're rejecting him, do it straight on. Thank you."

"I will," Deane replied. That was exactly what he was here to do.

He froze when he got to Luke's room, the door wide open. The entire thing was a mess. His shoes were piled in a corner of the room, sheets and covers were ripped off the bed and the wardrobe doors were open and empty, the clothes in them now piled on top of the unmade bed.

Luke was kneeling by his dresser, carefully arranging the bottles, a small frown of concentration on his face.

Deane coughed, and Luke nearly jumped into the ceiling. He looked up, and when he noticed it was Deane, his face brightened, and that only made Deane feel even worse before Luke covered up the emotion by rolling his eyes.

"I'll take the stuff back tomorrow."

"I'm sorry," Deane said gruffly, "I shouldn't have said those things. I really...I really appreciate everything. It was really thoughtful of you but Luke; I have to be honest with you now because I don't want to lead you on."

Luke froze at that, his hand tightening around the bottle of cream he was holding before he pulled his hand away to drop the cream in his lap which Deane hadn't even noticed was filled with all his other cosmetics.

"You don't like me," he stated simply.

"Luke –" Deane began but Luke shot up to his feet, ignoring the way his bottles tumbled to the floor as he stalked up to Deane.

Deane squeaked in surprise when Luke grabbed his hair roughly, dragging his face down to slam their lips together in a kiss filled with furious passion. Deane groaned, all thoughts flying out the window as he cupped Luke's cheeks and kissed him back just as hard and furious, pushing into him so their legs tangled and they stumbled, very nearly tumbling to the floor.

The action brought Deane out of it and he ripped out of Luke's arms. "What the hell?" he asked angrily, "I just told you –"

"You kissed me back," Luke interrupted breathlessly, cheeks flushed and lips wet, hands in his hips, "explain that."

Deane's heart was beating out of control – out of surprise, anger, lust or all three, he wasn't sure – all he knew was that he couldn't stop staring at Luke's lips, trying desperately to suppress the nearly painful urge to crush their lips together again. Instead he said, "You caught me by surprise you idiot."

"And that time we went patrolling?" Luke countered, stepping closer so that his face was practically in Deane's.

Deane refused to take a step back at the intimidating gesture. "I only kissed you because you very nearly killed me," he hissed angrily, "you know I fucking hate heights but you decided to test it. What if I had a heart attack?"

Luke stared at him, blinking owlishly and for a second, Deane thought he looked ridiculously young.

"The kiss meant nothing," he said blankly.

"Yes, it meant nothing," Deane seethed.

"Are you sure about that?" Luke insisted stubbornly.

"Yes, stop trying to force emotions into this when there aren't any."

"I know there are," Luke argued, stepping even closer so that he could feel Deane's body heat, "you like me and that's why you've been meaner than usual – that's why you overreacted when you saw the gifts –"

"I overreacted when I saw the gifts because you're a spoilt brat who ran away from home and don't even care about the fact that your parents aren't even asking you to come back – they're sending you fucking money and you used that money on me and God, I just don't understand how someone like you could even exist."

Luke's hands were shaking but he clenched them into fists, grinding his teeth and holding onto the anger because if he didn't, he was afraid that he'd break down.

"This isn't over," Luke growled.

"Yes, it is," Deane growled back equally, finally taking a step back as he said with as much politeness as he could muster, practically forcing the words out and sounding sickeningly sweet, "thank you so much for the gifts, princess, but no thanks. I apologise, but I don't feel the same way you do so you really should get over this silly crush you have on me while you're at it."

With that, he turned and left the house.

Luke stared around his room before picking up the nearest item, which was one of his boots, and flinging it hard against the wall with a barely concealed scream of pure anger.

Each step Deane took away from the house felt like he was walking with lead attached to his legs. His chest was hurting really fucking badly and he knew that instead of the polite apology and rejection he'd planned, he'd gotten mad. But ugh, Luke was just so...infuriating!

That doesn't mean you should be such a fucking asshole, his mind replied back to him, and he stopped walking.

Luke didn't deserve that. He might have been really annoying but he didn't deserve to be treated like that.

He stalked back to the house.

"I'm sorry," he said gruffly.

Luke was back on his knees, arranging the cosmetics. He froze at the sound of Deane's voice and then he suddenly got up and turned to glare at Deane, his eyes positively blazing.

Deane felt pinned to the spot.

Luke didn't know what suddenly got into him, but it was like his patience just snapped and he got up and stalked to Deane and Deane was struggling to breathe and slightly panicking but he couldn't move when Luke was reaching up to grab the hair on the nape of his neck to drag Deane's face close to his, their lips barely brushing.

"Kiss me."

Holy shit, that was a fucking command and Deane felt his cheeks heat with a furious blush at the way his lower belly tightened deliciously at that.

"What?" he asked breathlessly, disbelievingly, like he couldn't believe Luke had dared to order him like he was some sort of –

"I said –" Luke repeated, his voice harsh and unyielding, fingers tightening on his hair almost painfully, "Kiss me. Don't make me repeat myself, Deane."

Deane's eyes widened and he sucked in a sharp breath thinking, fuck this, before he was crushing their mouths together and Luke let out a sound of surprise before actually biting at Deane's lips before sexily sucking on the soft flesh, making Deane let out a hoarse moan against his mouth.

They kissed hotly for a few seconds, and it was just as hot and delicious as the first time, except this time it was wet, tongues tangling and breaths mingling.

Luke pulled back with a wet smack of their lips. His voice was hoarse when he whispered against Deane's mouth, "You want me. Say it."

"Fuck you." Deane's voice was equally as breathless and gritty, his voice shaking with something he didn't recognize.

"I want you," Luke rumbled, "God, Deane, you have no idea how badly I want you. Come on, Deane. You don't need to play these games with me. What have you got to lose?"

"Fuck you, Luke." But he wasn't making any move to leave and his body had started trembling.

Luke rubbed their lips together teasingly, pulling away when Deane tried to deepen it and make it a proper kiss. He kept doing it until Deane growled with frustration.

"I want you," he practically sobbed, forcing the words out of his throat and heaving in a shaky breath at finally admitting what he'd been denying, what he'd been refusing to see, "Fucking goddammit Luke, I want you, you fucking piece of shit."

Luke laughed and rewarded him with a harsh kiss, practically bruising his mouth so that when they finally parted, Deane's lips felt swollen and numb.

"Was that so hard?" Luke whispered breathlessly, taking a step back and dropping his arms, smiling cheekily at Deane, "Your apology is accepted. Keep the gifts."

And then he turned around and practically skipped back to the messy corner of the room to continue arranging his cosmetics, dismissing Deane like he was a servant or some shit.

It made Deane hotter than hell.

And he hated it.

He let out an angry huff and turned, stalking out of the house. He didn't even acknowledge Grandpa Davies's presence still on the porch, the old man smiling through his pipe. Halfway through the walk and he couldn't help but keep replaying what had happened in Luke's room over and over again until his eyes were glazed and his body felt hot and shivery all over.

"So," Brick asked, crossing his arms when Deane re-entered the house, "Did you –"

"I don't want to talk about it," Deane glowered at them before stalking to his room, slamming the door hard behind him.

"What in the world?" Samson asked curiously, glancing at the other two brothers for help.

Brick shrugged while Red sniggered. "Did y'all notice the state he was in? Luke's done a number on him, I swear."

"Well then," Brick grumbled, still looking as lost as Samson while Red laughed his ass off on his seat.

*

Everyone refused to mention the way the sexual tension between Luke and Deane had sky rocketed since then. In fact, the tension was so thick it was somehow adding to the heat of the burning summer sun, but the Andersons were patient brothers, not to mention cheeky little shits, and they were waiting for the tension to snap.

They didn't fail to notice the way the two stared at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking, their eyes practically wide and dreamy like some Disney character, all that was missing were the floating, popping, cartoony red hearts over their heads, it was almost sickening.

Like now, Deane was finishing up the notes on his clipboard while Luke was trying to stare at him surreptitiously from underneath his eyelashes, his cheeks tinted a soft pink.

When Deane looked like he was done, Luke glanced out of the window like he hadn't been staring while his blush deepened and it was Deane's turn to stare at him for a bit, his own cheeks darkening – obvious even with all that stubble on his face – before he coughed and tore his gaze away only to find his three brothers waggling their eyebrows lewdly at him and making crude gestures in Luke's direction, the poor teen still staring out the window obliviously.

"Shut up," Deane growled angrily, his cheeks burning and the brothers tried really hard not to burst out laughing at their baby brother's obvious discomfort.

Luke's head whipped around to stare at them in confusion. They looked back at him in fake innocence just as Red held his hands up lazily in mock surrender, "We didn't say anything, little bro."

Deane blushed harder and puffed out his chest angrily like he could somehow smite them with his eyebrows alone and that sent the brothers snickering.

"Let's see what we have then," Brick boomed, getting up from his seat on the dining table and moving up to Deane to take the clipboard from him. He glanced through the notes when he was hit with an idea so brilliant he was surprised it came from him, of all people. What he was about to do was normally Red's forte.

With a small hidden smirk, he looked up, "So Red and Samson normally take care of the stall at the market, but I thought for a change, Luke would like to see how things are done and Deane, you haven't done the sales in a while, so you could go as well and coach him. The rest of us will stay on the ranch to keep watch of things."

"Wait what?" Deane asked with wide eyes while Luke tried unsuccessfully to hide his excitement.

Red and Samson stared at Brick in shock and then Red sneakily held a thumbs up while Brick beamed like this was the best idea he'd ever come up with in his life.

"Come on, chop chop!" Samson said, hiding his sniggers as he left the kitchen, "Let's load up the cart for y'all and get this show on the road!"

They helped saddle up the horses and then filled the cart with boxes of their produce from the ranch to sell in the market. It took a little over an hour before Luke and Deane were straddled up at the front and moving towards the market, leaving the snorting Andersons behind them.

"We'll call you if we need anything!" Samson yelled as they departed.

When they got a good distance away, Deane growled through clenched teeth, "They did this on purpose."

"I sure as hell am not complaining," Luke winked back, biting his lower lip seductively.

"Try anything and I'll break your fucking hands," Deane hissed back heatedly and Luke just laughed.

"Sure thing, hot stuff. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Ugh!"

Luke laughed again and now, without the scrutiny of the other brothers, he could stare at Deane for as long and as hard as he wanted. It took less than a minute before Deane began to shift uncomfortably on his horse, his hands tightening on the reigns.

"Stop staring at me."

"Why?" Luke said softly, no hint of teasing in his tone. Ever since...since...well, since whatever had happened in his room had happened, Luke had decided to give Deane some space because he was still trying to come to terms with just what the hell had come over him to practically order Deane like that. In fact, just thinking about it now made his stomach clench and his entire body go warm.

"Just stop," Deane responded, hunching his shoulders up as if it would somehow deflect Luke's gaze.

Luke smiled. "You're incredibly handsome, you know?"

Deane swallowed.

"I know it was obvious I had some sort of crush on you as I was growing up but I don't think I knew just how deep my attraction – and my feelings – went, until I saw you again."

"Shut up, Luke," Deane grumbled, "God, can you not keep your mouth shut for like, two seconds?"

"You know what'll make me keep my mouth shut," Luke responded and the teasing lilt was back. He enjoyed the harsh blush that tinted Deane's cheeks at his taunting. God, it was like ever since that day in his room, Deane had turned into some sort of blushing virgin. It only deepened Luke's attraction to him.

When they finally got to the market, Deane silently showed Luke how to set up the stall and then they were ready for the day.

His heart was about to pound out of his chest. He glanced at Luke, and the teen looked bored, lazily playing some sort of stupid game on his sleek, white phone. He was hyper aware of the space – or lack thereof – between them. If he shifted just a little, their thighs would be brushing.

His wrist burned and he felt his entire body go hot as he slyly tugged the cuff of his shirt down to hide the brand new leather wrist watch he was wearing.

Fuck, why did he choose today of all days to wear it?

Maybe he wanted Luke to notice and do something about it. Maybe he –

No. No, no, no. He was not going down that train.

Throughout the slow afternoon, Deane was inwardly having a mid-life crisis. Or whatever, he didn't know what else to call the internal freak-out he was having over the teenage boy perched beside him. Even after the kiss, he'd shoved himself back into his sea of denial. So fine, he was attracted to Luke and he wanted him, that didn't mean he was going to act on it.

Luke was a spoiled rich brat and no doubt because he got everything he wanted, he thought he could get Deane too, just like that.

Deane wasn't going to let him.

The heat ratcheted up another degree when Luke cunningly shifted a bit on the bench and their thighs were finally touching, the heat of their bodies seeping through their clothes.

Deane tensed.

Luke was still playing the game on his phone, pretending like he hadn't closed the distance between them, and Deane wanted to punch his pretty little nose. And now that he was staring at his face, he couldn't seem to stop. He'd never noticed the splotch of dark brown freckles dotting the bridge of Luke's nose before. Were they always there?

"I freckle in the summer," Luke said with a smirk and Deane nearly jumped out of his skin at being caught staring and even though Luke was now looking up at him, brown eyes wide and honest, he still couldn't look away.

The smirk slowly faded from Luke's lips, and Deane felt his heart begin to pound almost frantically beneath his ribcage. The teen's eyelashes swept low, his brown eyes dropping to Deane's own mouth and the Anderson couldn't help but wet his own lips, watching as Luke's pouty pink mouth seemed to magnify, closer and closer, until they were kissing.

It was nothing like the previous two kisses, the first had been filled with adrenaline and heat, the second anger, determination and confusion but now, now it was sweet and everything Deane imagined a first kiss would be like.

Luke's lips gently parted, moving sensually against his and Deane couldn't help the way his body melted into the teen's, his hands reaching out to cup Luke's cheeks while Luke's hands wrapped around his hips.

They kissed like that for a few seconds, savouring the feel of their lips and the soft exchange of their breaths between them before they finally pulled apart to breathe, still holding onto each other.

Deane's mouth parted, as if to say something but Luke cut him off by connecting their lips again in another soft kiss, his tongue darting out to lick against his lips teasingly.

Deane moaned and melted even more, sneaking his own tongue out to deepen the kiss, the noise of the market and the people milling around them forgotten as they got lost in each other.

*

Luke was so madly in love with Deane it was ridiculous.

As they'd gotten back from the market, of which they'd spent most of the time kissing, the ride back had been filled with shy glances and soft blushes.

They were at the pub now, sitting beside each other on their signature long chair close to the dancefloor, Deane nursing a beer with his hand casually thrown over the seat where Luke was sitting, the older man careful not to let his hand touch the teen but oh, he didn't even need to because Luke was hyper aware of how close that arm was to wrapping around his shoulders.

Samson was off with Jenny somewhere, Brick was once again at Sabrina's, there seemed to be something going on between Henry and Red, while Luke was as usual, alone with Deane.

He waited patiently until Deane finished his beer, before getting up and grabbing Deane's hand in his, pulling him towards the dancefloor with an intense look in his eyes.

Deane didn't even fight and as if the DJ knew how much love was in the air, the song that played next was This is Love by Will.I.Am and Eva Simons.

"Can you feel the love? This is love, this is love, this is love..."

Luke squeaked when Deane grabbed his hips to pull him forward for a slow grind. They stood like that, their faces close as they danced with their hips, both of them so in sync with the other they didn't know who was what and where each of them began or ended.

Just as the next song, Wild Ones by Flo Rida and Sia began, they were kissing hotly, Luke's hands around Deane's neck while Deane's were shamelessly cupping the full curve of Luke's ass in his hands, moulding the firm globes hungrily.

Luke was so turned on he could scarcely breathe as he pulled away to whisper into Deane's ear over the sound of the loud music, "Do you want to get out of here?"

Deane pulled back to nod, his eyes half-lidded with desire and it was the fucking hottest thing Luke has ever seen in his life.

They held hands all the way back to the ranch and when they got to Deane's room, they didn't bother beating around the bush before they were kissing again hungrily, their lips moving just like their bodies did, in perfect sync.

"Fuck, do you want this?" Luke asked as Deane rocked his hips forward, making their erections rub together. Fuck, the friction felt so incredible Luke couldn't help but rock his hips again.

"Yeah," Deane moaned back, "Yes. I want this. I want you so bad."

"God," Luke sobbed and they stumbled to the bed, falling on top of each other, hands fumbling to peel off their clothes. They kissed and touched every inch of their bodies they could reach, hands clumsy and inexperienced but shaky with desire and eagerness as they learned what the other liked.

They rolled over until Luke was on top of Deane, straddling his lap, and Luke didn't want to think about what he was doing, he just followed the deep down desire to pin Deane's wrists to the bed, biting his lip hard when Deane moaned and sank into the sheets submissively, his hips gently rocking.

"Let me take care of you," Luke whispered softly and the tips of his ears burned because fucking hell, that had sounded like a line straight out of p0rn, but he didn't feel too embarrassed about it because Deane was cursing harshly in response, before nodding almost frantically. "Don't move your hands," he ordered softly.

"Fuck, okay," Deane responded hoarsely, curling his hands around the bars of his headboard as Luke began to kiss down his body.

He kissed every single inch of him, paying extra attention to his chest and his – fuck – his hips, which he never even knew could be an erogenous zone. When Luke began to literally worship his cock with hot kisses and kitten licks, Deane felt like he was about to explode out of his skin.

He was moaning loudly and rocking his hips, his grip on the headboard almost painful, knuckles white.

Luke sat up, curling his left hand loosely around Deane's shaft while he gently rubbed his middle and index fingers against Deane's lips. Deane obediently opened his mouth and slurped around the fingers, sucking and wetting them until Luke was just as shaky and desperate as he was, the teen restlessly shifting his hips.

Luke tried not to think about Deane's lips wrapped around his cock because fuck, he'd barely even been touched and he felt like he was ready to blow. When he felt like his fingers were wet enough, he was slipping his fingers down in-between Deane's legs.

"Oh fuck," Deane gasped, automatically bending his knees to give Luke easier access.

"This okay?" Luke asked huskily as his fingers traced his rim gently.

"Yes, fuck, yes," Deane groaned back, his hips automatically trying to push down on the fingers, hungry to have them inside him.

Luke bit his lip, increasing the pressure of his finger until the hard pucker softened and gave way for one finger, before gently thrusting. He used his free hand to reach for a bottle of cream by the bedside table to help ease the way and not before long, he hand three fingers buried up inside Deane's heat and fucking hell, Deane looked glorious.

His face, neck, and chest were flushed, and Luke was never one to be attracted to body hair but the hair on Deane's chest and legs just made him hotter than hell. He was rocking back desperately onto Luke's fingers, eyes half-lidded with pleasure and lust.

Luke nearly chewed a hole through his lips to keep from coming when Deane suddenly arched on a loud cry as Luke's fingers finally found his prostate.

Luke didn't stop biting his lip, curling his hand tightly around Deane's cock as he rubbed insistently against the gland until Deane was smearing a thin trail of pre-come all over his abs.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, I can't – Luke, I'm about to – Luke, Luke, Luke."

Just as Deane's entire body tensed, ready to tumble of the edge, Luke stopped, his fingers tightening painfully around the base of Deane's steel shaft.

"Jesus Christ," Deane sobbed, his hips jerking up frantically, trying to thrust up into the tight circle of Luke's fingers to no avail. When he finally calmed down, he couldn't stop trembling, still hard as a rock and aching.

"You're so perfect, God," Luke whispered and resumed with his fingers, watching Deane's face avidly.

"Oh fuck, oh shit," Deane sobbed as he neared the edge again, and just like the first time, when he was so close he could taste it, Luke stopped his thrusts and tightened his grip, the action making Deane see stars as he sobbed in frustration. "Holy fuck, holy shit, oh my God, please, please..."

"Shh, you're doing so well. Fuck, you're doing so fucking good. Two more times, okay?"

Deane sobbed but nodded, not understanding why he wanted to please Luke so badly. Luke did it again and it didn't take long for Deane to reach the edge and this time his entire body grew so tense it actually hurt, his hips nearly flying off the bed as it strained for release.

"I can't," he sobbed, "Luke, I can't – I can't – please, please, please –"

"You can," Luke whispered back, voice strong and sure, "You can. Come on. One more, just one more and I'll let you come, okay?"

"Fuck, fuck, okay, okay, please, please – holy shit!"

This time, Luke was almost brutal, his fingers moving with breakneck speed, jamming almost roughly into his sweet spot and it didn't take up to ten seconds before Deane was on the edge again and Luke stopped, his eyes brimming with hot tears of frustration and arousal because holy shit he wanted to come so fucking badly.

When Deane finally calmed down, it was to the sound of Luke's hoarse voice praising him.

"You're so fucking perfect, Deane. God, look at how turned on I am. I haven't even been touched and fuck, I'm so fucking close, I'm not going to last a second. You're so good, let me – let me –"

Deane sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes clenched shut with arousal when Luke swallowed him whole. His vision whitened out and when those fingers teasingly rubbed against his now oversensitive swollen gland, and he howled, long and loud as he came down the teen's throat, his hips fucking up furiously.

Luke swallowed every drop before he was frantically sitting up, leaning forward to kiss Deane all over his lips and face, "Deane, Deane, can I – please – can I –" he babbled incoherently, desperately pumping his hips forward, his shaft sliding wetly against the cleft of his ass because of how badly he was leaking.

"Yeah, yeah," Deane responded lazily, too blissed out from his release to respond with more energy.

"Do you have anything?" Luke asked shakily, "I'm not – I don't –"

"You don't need to," Deane slurred, wrapping his legs tightly around his hips, "want to feel you. Want you to come in me."

"Oh my God, fuck, fuck," Luke whimpered, cupping himself and trying to push inside. "Deane, fuck, Deane, holy fucking shit," Luke hissed through his teeth, his hips bowing at the indescribable pleasure that shot up his limbs at the feel of Deane clenching hot and tight around him. "I'm not – I'm not going to –" he'd been on edge for so long that he barely lasted a few thrusts before he was literally squeaking, his hips punching forward in desperate, jerky shoves as he came in thick spurts, his face scrunched up in an expression of furious pleasure.

"Fuck," he sobbed, burying his face in Deane's throat as he tried to ride through the aftershocks, grinding his hips harshly against Deane's.

Five minutes later and he was still shaking because fuck, he had never come so hard in his life, spots still dancing in front of his vision.

Deane's hand was rubbing up and down his back gently, as if trying to soothe a cat, and the motions worked, because soon, Luke was calm and half-asleep.

He forced himself to get up though, laughing at Deane's whine of displeasure as he moved away to get something to clean them up. When they were as clean as they could get without a shower, they curled up in each other's arms and promptly fell asleep.

*

Luke woke up a few hours later to find the spot beside him empty. He panicked, a little disoriented as he sat up frantically, looking around the room and trying to get his bearings, not even sure what was missing from his bed until he realized the room wasn't his and what was missing was the owner.

He heard low voices coming from the kitchen and got up, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he pulled on his jeans, hopping into it and cursing himself for always wearing skinnies, before he was heading towards the kitchen. The sound of Sam singing a familiar rhyme made him stop and cup his mouth to prevent his laughter.

"–k-i-s-s-i-n-g, first comes love and second comes marriage –"

"Shut up, Sam," Deane hissed through his teeth, his voice low and fraught with panic, obviously afraid that someone would hear.

"What?" Sam whispered back teasingly, voice obviously pitched low so as not to wake the people asleep in the house, "Are you still in denial about your feelings, baby bro?"

"I'm not in denial about anything," Deane hissed harshly, "So we had sex, big deal."

Luke's smile slowly faded away and he stood there staring at the floor, his chest feeling hollow.

He could almost feel Sam rolling his eyes. "You're so stubborn Deane. Just admit you love the guy and stop causing everyone on this damned ranch heartache."

"I don't love him though?" Deane said vehemently, "why is everyone so hell bent on forcing feelings out of me when there aren't any?"

"But there are though."

"Jesus!" Sam and Deane gasped at the sound of Luke's voice in the kitchen.

He was wearing only the skinny jeans and he felt a small tremor of satisfaction rush through him when Deane's gaze trailed over his exposed chest as he crossed his arms.

"There aren't," Deane argued as he ripped his gaze away with a blush, glaring at Luke, "the fact that I'm attracted to you doesn't mean I give a shit about you."

"Deane!" Sam gasped at his cruel tone.

"Deane," Luke began warningly, his voice holding a familiar strength and command.

"No," Deane hissed, glaring at Samson and making him purse his lips before he turned back to Luke, "you think you can get everything you want just with the snap of a finger, don't you? Everyone just keeps giving him what he wants because he demands it and I'm not falling for that bullshit. Contrary to what has happened between us, Princess, you can't just command me to love you. It doesn't work that way."

Sam looked uncomfortable at what Deane had just implied, while Luke stood there staring, feeling his heart rip to pieces beneath his ribcage. And then he spun around and left the kitchen.

He came back to the kitchen a few seconds later, hastily dressed in his clothes and hissed at Deane, "You're a fucking coward," before spinning on his heel and slamming out of the house, making the brothers jump.

*

"I'm leaving."

All four heads snapped up to stare at him in surprise.

"What? Why?" Brick asked, dropping the hammer and nail he'd been using to fix one of their broken dressers as he moved up to Luke.

All the brothers were outside, Red lounging in the shade in his usual spot on the porch, Brick trying to fix a broken dresser, while Deane and Samson were arguing over what ration of the ranch's produce they got to keep.

Luke looked up and for the first time in two weeks, he looked at Deane – no, glared at him, his expression hard, "I'm leaving because someone," he said the word pointedly, still glaring, "is still being a stubborn asshole for reasons I don't understand and refuses to admit his fucking feelings."

Deane rolled his eyes and turned back to his clipboard, "Sounds to me like someone else is being a stubborn asshole about forcing me to admit feelings I obviously don't have."

"Hey, hey, calm down now," Brick said at the obvious hostility pouring off of the two boys, "Luke, you don't have to be so rash, come on, let's talk about this."

Luke laughed, the sound a little bitter, "Just a few weeks ago you were asking me why I ran away and practically forcing me to go back home and now you want me to stay? Ha, this is so fucking ironic. You know why this is so ironic? I didn't actually run away."

All the Andersons stared at him in shock.

"Yeah, you heard that right," he laughed, "I didn't run away. I came out to my parents as gay and you know what they said? 'That's not possible honey.' 'People aren't born gay.' 'It's just a phase, sweetie, you'll grow out of it.' And then to make their rejection of me even more sickening, they started trying to pair me with their rich friends' daughters, taking me on family dinners to meet them and parading me around like I was a fucking Christmas chicken and not an actual human being and I got so sick of it I asked grandma and grandpa for help.

"They always knew right from time that I didn't like girls that way, so they played along and called my mum and dad and told them there was some 'religious programme' going on at the ranch that would help to 'straighten' me out. Can you believe that? My parents willingly sent me here because they thought there was some brainwashing programme that was going to make be 'all better' and 'normal like I used to be'," Luke spat out, looking sick, "The plan was I stay here for as long as possible – probably the rest of my life, build something up, you know? Start over. At least until my parents got over their ignorance and came to their senses, but Deane here has his head so far up his ass he can't even see what's so obvious to the entire fucking world and I'm so fucking mad I can't stand to see his face or be around him anymore or I'm afraid I'm going to fucking explode."

By the time he was done with his rant, he was heaving and his eyelashes were wet, eyes glistening with tears that refused to spill.

Brick reached out for him but Luke stepped away from him.

"My flight is tomorrow," Luke said more to Deane than Brick, Sam, and Red, "I'm leaving the ranch at five. I don't want to see your stupid face again unless you're willing to admit how you feel."

And then he turned and stalked off, leaving the four brothers staring after his wake dumbfounded.

"What the shit," Red whispered, shocked beyond belief.

"I never would have thought his parents would be that ignorant," Sam said, "it sounds like they think they're doing what they think is best for him –"

"Key word, what 'they' think. They've obviously failed in listening to their child. God, I feel so bad for Luke. To think he's been hiding this from us for so long."

"What are you going to do?" Brick asked Deane, crossing his arms.

Deane blanched, raising his arms up as if in surrender. "I feel bad for him, I honestly do, but this doesn't change anything."

Brick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before glancing at Sam and Red. "Want to go to the Davies' and give Luke a proper goodbye?"

Red got up from his seat, "Sure thing," while Sam shrugged, "Why not?"

"See you in a bit," Brick said to Deane and they all left him there, standing and staring at their forms retreat, feeling lost, alone, confused and overwhelmingly guilty.

This was Luke's fault. He was emotionally manipulating him into admitting what he was sure wasn't real and it was fucking bullshit. He turned and stalked into the house, thinking about how he had never hated Luke Davies more than he did at that moment.

*

"Are you sure about this?" Grandma Davies asked for the hundredth time, and Luke smiled shakily at her.

"I'm sure, I'll be fine."

"Leave the boy alone," his grandpa scolded and Luke laughed, smiling at the old man.

The three of them hugged. It was already five o'clock, but when the Andersons had shown up last night – without Deane – he'd known that Deane wasn't coming. He'd felt hollow and empty all night long, even though the Andersons stayed well until dawn, clapping him on the back and hugging him tightly, telling him how much they were going to miss him, but it all felt empty because Luke didn't think he'd have the strength to ever come back, not with how heartbroken he felt.

He nodded at advice from his grandparents and in the blink of an eye, he was bundled up in the cab to the airport, his bags safely packed in the trunk.

And even as the cab got further and further away from the ranch, Luke still hoped. Maybe Deane would get on a horse and come after him like in all those romance movies.

When the cab got to the airport, Luke's eyes kept darting through the crowd as he dragged his feet, waiting, hoping that maybe Deane would show up at the airport and kneel and apologise and beg and profess his love.

It was only when he was seated in the plane, as it took off from the ground that he finally let the tears fall and the hope fade away.

*

The air was tense in the Anderson household.

Deane could feel the clock like some foreboding weight behind him. He'd refused to wear the watch Luke had gotten him – in fact, all of Luke's precious 'gifts' had been dumped into the store where they kept useless things.

"Five o'clock," Brick boomed and Deane jumped and then pursed his lips angrily.

He wasn't going to fall for this. This wasn't fair – this was Luke abusing him, he knew it. Why would the teen put him in such a position? If he wasn't forced to admit feelings he didn't have, he was left to feel guilty for letting him go for the rest of his life. There was no winning. It wasn't fair.

His chest hurt and it felt like someone was stabbing him over and over as the sun set and his brothers didn't say anything. During dinner, they ate silently and then headed straight for bed, still not saying anything.

He'd expected them to scold him, to yell, 'run after him you idiot!' but they'd just acted like nothing was happening and he felt anxious and jittery.

He refused to think about Luke, vehemently telling himself that he didn't feel shit, that it was just the situation making him feel like – like someone had taken the light away from his life.

He didn't sleep a wink that night.

*

It happened more than two months later, when the leaves had begun to fall and the animals were more reluctant to leave their pens and stalls because of the chill in the air as autumn dawned and winter approached.

The brothers had slowly stopped reminiscing about Luke as the days went by, and even though they tried to hide it from Deane, they still talked to the teen sometimes on the phone, always leaving the room when he called, or talking to him on a group skype call at night once they'd gotten a better laptop and higher quality internet and thought Deane was fast asleep in his room.

Deane refused to ponder why exactly it hurt that they were hiding it from him, instead pretending that it wasn't happening.

"Does anyone know where the hell I left my gloves?" Brick was asking that afternoon as he barrelled into the kitchen where his brothers were having lunch.

Red stopped slurping on his signature milkshake to mutter, "Have you tried the store room?"

"Right, Deane, could you help me find them? I can't leave Sabrina waiting outside."

"Sure thing," Deane replied, dropping the knife he'd been using to spread mayonnaise over his sandwich and making his way to said store.

Brick had finally proposed to Sabrina and they were getting married the next spring. This meant that Brick spent a lot of time outside the house with his fiancé or she spent time at theirs and it helped a little to alleviate the situation. Samson and Jenny didn't end up working out so she hardly came to the ranch anymore because of the awkwardness, and Red and Henry were dancing around each other – or rather, Red was dancing around Henry and leaving the poor boy hanging.

Deane saw the pair of gloves sitting on one of the top shelves underneath a box and he reached to pull them out like an idiot, sending the box and its contents tumbling to the floor. He reached down to pick the contents back up and froze as he spotted three familiar hats. Each of the exact same design, but in different colours.

He picked the hats up and stood there, staring at them.

That was how Brick found him a few minutes later when he still hadn't shown up with the gloves, still staring at the hats, his chest heaving with violent silent sobs.

Brick felt his heart break as he walked up to him and hugged him tightly.

"You're so fucking stubborn, it's incredible. More than two months, Deane. It took you over two months to pull your head out of your ass."

"Shut up," Deane whispered through his tears, "I hate him. I hate him so fucking much for doing this to me."

"First love is always the hardest. And hitting you at your twenty-four, damn, must be tough."

Deane sniffed, burying his face in Brick's neck and feeling horribly like a child. "I miss him so fucking much," he finally admitted, feeling the ache he'd been denying since Luke left finally loosen a little at the admission.

"He's just as stubborn as you, you know? You're practically made for each other. Each time he called on the phone or we talked on Skype, he'd ask, 'has he pulled his head out of his ass yet?'"

Deane laughed through his tears, lifting his hands up to hide his blotchy, snotty face.

"Jeez, you're a mess."

Deane nodded, too tired of arguing. "I'm a mess."

Brick laughed, and pulled back to raise an eyebrow down at him. "It's not too late to go after him, you know."

Deane's eyes widened, "I –"

"Nope. You're going to go. No excuses. We've watched you wallow for the past how many weeks, fucking oblivious of your own misery and silent pining as you buried yourself in work twice as hard as you usually do. It was pitiful. And it hurt us as much as it hurt you, probably more, because we agreed not to do anything. You had to come to terms on your own."

"What if he's moved on?" Deane asked fearfully, "What if –?"

"I honestly doubt that, but if you don't want to keep wondering 'what if', you'll go."

And that was how Deane found himself in the airport, waving at his brothers as he made his way to the plane. At first, he'd wanted them to come with him, but they told him that this was his ride, his future and it was about time he started making decisions on his own. They couldn't keep pushing him all the time.

It left Deane feeling even more terrified than before.

Deane clutched at the airplane seats for life as it began to move on the runway, suddenly reminded of his fear of heights.

Oh my fucking God, who the hell suggested this? He was going to fucking die. The plane was going to crash – a bird was going to slam into one of the engines and send them tumbling down – there was probably a bomb in the cargo area waiting to explode –

"You okay?"

Deane glanced up at the teenage girl, who looked no older than sixteen, sitting beside him. She was wearing all black, with smudged dark eyeliner and was noisily chewing gum as she stared at him like he was some sort of pest, huge neon green headphones on her head.

She raised an eyebrow when he didn't answer. "You okay, man? You're freaking me out."

Deane felt like he couldn't breathe, nearly ripping off the hand of the seat he was in as the plane took off. He was about to panic when he heard the girl sigh tiredly from beside him, and then shuffle before her huge headphones were suddenly coming over his head.

He nearly jumped at the loud music that started, and she mouthed 'sorry', before reducing the volume.

The headphones where connected to a black device that looked like a phone, but said PSP in the corner, and he watched avidly as she put on a simple video game, reaching for her purse for another PSP, this time a neon blue as she mouthed, 'let's see who can get the highest score,' and then she opened the same game and began to play.

Deane was still silently panicking, but he focused all his energy on the game. He didn't even notice when he'd fallen asleep until the plane had landed, and the girl was rudely yanking her headphones off his head.

He sat up blearily, looking at everyone getting up and packing up their stuff to leave the plane.

The girl had shoved the two PSPs in her bag and got up, trying to sidle past his legs since she'd been in the window seat and he'd been in the aisle.

"Thank you," he called, struggling to get his seatbelt off as she followed the crowd.

She turned to look at him with a smile that looked more like a grimace. "It's whatever," she called back before she disappeared.

Deane felt his stomach do tumbles as he got up from his chair and made his way out of the plane and into the airport. His nerves increased as he made it through customs and was finally in a cab to Luke's, the boy's address written in a piece of paper Grandpa and Grandma Davies had given him.

It was Deane's first time in the city and he couldn't even enjoy the sights because he felt so nervous he felt like throwing up or passing out.

What the hell was he going to say when he got there? What about Luke's parents? Did they still think Luke's being gay was a phase? How were they going to receive Deane flying over from the ranch to profess his undying love?

Just as Deane noticed they'd gotten on Luke's street, he began to panic.

"Do you know the address?" he asked, his voice high.

The driver nodded. "Mhm. Should be just a couple houses down, number fifty-one, you said?"

"Can you stop here please?"

The driver shrugged. "Okay then."

Deane paid the man and got out his one bag, he hadn't packed heavy just in case Luke didn't – he felt a pang – just in case Luke didn't want him anymore. The cab left and Deane stood there silently on the side of the road. The sun was about to set and the neighbourhood was nice and quiet, pretty even if Deane took the time to look.

He couldn't do this. How was he going to do this? He didn't even have a plan! Was he just going to kneel at his doorstep and beg for forgiveness? Was he going to just –? Fuck, he was hyperventilating, he needed to think.

He spun around and made his way towards a small restaurant he'd passed in the cab, deciding he'd stay there and figure out just how the hell he was going to win Luke back.

*

Luke was miserable.

His parents might have quietly accepted he was gay, but it was obvious they weren't coming to terms with it. Conversations were strained at the table, his dad kept snapping at him for stupid reasons, and his mom cried almost all the time. It made him angry and frustrated and completely stressed out. It also made him feel guilty, because they were silently saying it was his fault their family was falling apart and he hated them for it.

"You can't send him to Berekely, that's so far away, I want my baby boy close so I can...I can watch over him and –"

"He has to learn to live on his own," his father snapped back at his mom, "he's been pampered too much and needs to learn how to survive without us constantly coddling him."

Luke sighed, playing around with the tasteless spaghetti on his plate. He knew what his parents weren't saying.

Keep him close so we can make sure he doesn't disgrace us.

Send him away so he can do whatever he wants and not disgrace us.

"But he's just a baby, dear, we can't just –"

"I've made my decision and it's –"

"Did anyone of you even think to ask me what I want?" Luke finally snapped, making them both glance at him in surprise.

His father glared at him, "You will not speak to us like that –"

"Oh please," Luke spat, getting up from his chair and glaring down at them, "you guys don't give a shit about what I want. It's always the same, ever since I was a kid, buying me shit to compensate for the fact that you're both really shitty at being parents and –"

"Luke!" his mother gasped, affronted but he wasn't derailed.

"–and now you can't even simply come to the terms that I'm gay – I was born like that, it wasn't some stupid phase or a glitch in your stilted upbringing and I am just so fucking done with both of you. Stop talking about my life. In fact, stop talking about me. I don't even want to be your son anymore."

He ran from the kitchen, grabbing his jacket from the hook beside the front door.

"Luke!" his mum cried, sounding on the verge of tears and he just couldn't handle it.

He slammed out of the house and ran down the street, the breeze blowing his tears into his ears. He was tired and so stressed out and this had been the most horrible few weeks of his life.

There was a small restaurant just at the end of his street and he made his way there, deciding to indulge on some greasy food because ever since he'd been back from the ranch, his mom's once rich cooking had become bland and tasteless. He made his way to one of the tables at the back, scanning the restaurant as he picked up a menu.

He nearly had a heart attack at the sight of someone he'd been trying to shove to the back of his mind for the past ten weeks.

No. It couldn't...could it?

It was. It was fucking Deane Anderson, with a travelling bag, sitting in one of the tables opposite him and playing with some chips and chicken in his plate, oblivious of his presence.

Luke didn't even think, his anger finally toppling over like hot water bubbling over the rim of a pot as he stalked to the culprit and hissed, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Deane nearly jumped out of his seat at the voice and got up automatically when he realised it was Luke standing in front of him. Oh God, he looked – he looked horrible. He was a bit thinner, like he hadn't been eating, and he'd lost a little bit of colour from his skin, as if all he'd done was stay in his room all day.

He suddenly realised what Luke had asked him, the hostile tone, and he instantly got defensive, "And how is that any of your business?"

Luke reared back like he'd been hit, blinking owlishly as a tiny voice whispered, well what did you expect? That he'd come here for you or what? Don't be pathetic.

"My bad, enjoy your food," Luke sing-songed sarcastically, and turned around, stalking out of the restaurant. He couldn't even keep himself together as the door closed behind him, bursting into tears at how completely fucked his life was.

He'd barely made it to the sidewalk when an arm was grabbing him and spinning him around and there was Deane, looking desperate and beautiful and as handsome as the day Luke first saw him.

"I love you," he blurted, and they both looked surprised at the admission.

Luke started crying harder, trying to pull away from his grasp. "Is this a prank? What the fuck is this?"

"I love you, I love you," Deane whispered desperately, feeling like someone had ripped his chest open, leaving his heart beating exposed and vulnerable, "I couldn't see it, I swear, you were right, I had my head shoved so far up my ass I couldn't even see it and to make it worse, I didn't even want to. I didn't want to love you. I was scared – full of pride – I don't know, I don't know why – I just – I've grown up with this idea of you and it was just so hard to let go of it and see how wonderful you are and how much – how deep you make me feel and – and – you're not – say something, please, please."

Luke buried his face in his hands and tried to stop crying, his breath hitching with hiccups. "Do you – are you checked in at a hotel?"

"Uh, no, I'm not."

"Can we just – can we go somewhere quiet? I just – I need to breathe a bit, please."

Deane nodded, and they headed to the nearest hotel. Luke's phone rang a few times but he ignored it while Deane stared at him worriedly, coming to the conclusion that it wasn't just him Luke was crying over. He'd already been in tears at the restaurant.

When they finally got into the dingy hotel room, Luke was immediately getting into the bed, pulling Deane with him and whispering, "Hold me. Just hold me."

Deane obeyed, holding the teen as he cried his heart out until he fell asleep. Deane has never felt so gutted in his life, so in pain that the person he loved was so sad and he couldn't do anything about it.

*

When Luke woke up, he blinked, a little disoriented about his whereabouts and he felt his heart stutter when he got his memories back and noticed the embrace he was in.

He looked up and his heart practically stopped beating altogether at the sight of Deane Anderson's sleeping face on the pillow next to his, the man's arms wrapped around him lazily.

His breath came out quick as he remembered Deane's confession, his words of love ringing loudly in his ears, and he wasn't even thinking before he was smashing their mouths together, waking Deane up with a squeak before the man was kissing him back, the kiss hot and hard and full of desperation.

Luke pulled away to stare down at him, having moved on top of him during the heated kiss.

"Two months and ten days, Deane, two fucking months and ten days. I want to hit you so badly right now."

"I know, I'm sorry. You were right, I'm a stubborn asshole."

Luke managed a shaky smile, "You're just lucky I'm as stubborn as you."

"I know, I am, I'm really lucky. I'm sorry."

Luke wanted to pin his hands to the bed and fuck his brains out, slow and deep and hard, he just, fuck, he just wanted to feel but he didn't know if he was in the right frame of mind for that, if it was okay and he wanted to order Deane to tell him again, those words but Deane's words – you can't just command me to love you – kept ringing in his ears and he suddenly felt shy and insecure.

As if Deane was reading his mind, he whispered, "I love you."

Luke's lower lip wobbled.

"I love you," he whispered again, "I love you."

"Stop," Luke whispered back, trying not to cry.

"I love you, Luke. I missed you so fucking much. The past two months were hell. And I love you."

Luke sniffed, burying his face in Deane's throat to mumble quietly, "I love you too."

"I know. I love you."

They started kissing again, murmuring the words against their lips over and over. Luke got on top of Deane, deciding to just let his body do what it wanted and they ended up grinding against each other slowly and sensually, still kissing and whispering the words of love.

"Let me – let me –" Luke whispered shakily, sitting up and pulling Deane up with him so that he was straddling the older man's lap.

He reached down and fumbled to get both their pants open and then he was curling his hand around them both and stroking.

Deane bucked up with a helpless shudder. "Luke," he moaned.

Luke bit his lip, his chest swelling with emotion as he rocked his hips, leaning forward to take Deane's lower lip in-between his teeth to tug hard, enjoying Deane's pleased gasp against his lips.

They rested their foreheads together, panting heavily into each other's faces as Luke stroked them both to completion. They stiffened at the same time, sobbing and gasping each other's names as they spilled over Luke's fist, rocking gently to come down from the high.

Deane fell back against the headboard, pulling Luke with him who scrunched his face up in an expression of distaste at the stickiness between them, but at the moment he was too blissed out from his orgasm to care.

Luke felt like he was going to cry again as he listened to Deane's heartbeat underneath his ear, revelling in the way Deane was holding him so tightly around his hips, like he was afraid Luke was going to fly off or disappear.

"I should probably check my phone," Luke said a few minutes later, shifting even closer to push his face underneath Deane's chin, face in his throat.

"What's going on?" Deane asked, voice vibrating in his chest.

Luke sighed. "It's just my mum and dad. I don't really want to talk about it."

"I'm sorry about those things I said. Before you left. I'm sorry about what I said about your parents as well. Just – I'm sorry for every cruel thing I've done to you in the past."

Luke stared into his beautiful green eyes. "And I'm sorry I tried to guilt-trip you into confessing your feelings for me. That was dirty of me and I shouldn't have done that."

They both laughed, holding each other close.

"Sleep now, Luke. We can worry about your parents tomorrow. And I probably need to call the guys because they're probably freaking out by now."

"Nah, I believe they're celebrating cause they've probably assumed we're having make-up sex right about now."

Deane blushed to the roots of his hair. "Shut up."

"Seriously, we've been planning this day for months, I'm insulted that they didn't let me know you were coming. I would have brought the condoms and lube."

"Oh my God, I can't believe I forgot how fucking annoying you actually are," Deane rolled his eyes but his tone was obviously teasing.

Luke laughed and smacked a kiss on his lips. "Now, there's the Deane I know and love."

*

There was a silence in the Anderson household as they had dinner, the only sounds the scrapes of cutlery and the sound of chewing.

"So do you think they're fucking yet?"

"Red!" Brick gasped at his bluntness, blushing despite himself.

Samson shrugged with a feral grin on his face. "Why deny it? They probably are. If he hasn't called by now, Luke's got him tied up - literally." He waggled his eyebrows.

"Jesus, too many details," Brick groaned, lifting his hands up to cover his ears childishly.

"He's so grown up now, it hurts my achy breaky heart."

"Don't – don't ever on your life, put those words in a sentence, ever, again," Brick warned Red.

"Who on earth are we going to tease and bully now?" Samson asked quietly.

The brothers felt a pang because even though they wanted Deane to find his wings, or whatever, he'd still been their anchor somehow. He'd been the level headed one when Brick was being an irrational idiot, or when Samson and Red got into fights, he'd been the glue that stuck their family together.

Brick sighed. "It's not going to be the same without him."

"Jeez, stop acting like he's gone forever. He's going to come back, probably with Luke in tow," Red grumbled, lifting a hand up to slap his hat so it covered his face as he leaned back dangerously on his chair until it was hanging precariously by its hind legs.

Slowly, as if on autopilot, both Samson and Brick turned to look at Red.

Because Red currently had his hat over his face, he didn't notice. When he noticed the silence, he frowned and tilted his hat up, eyes widening with a little fear at how his older brothers were now staring at him, both with sinister smiles on their faces.

"No," he whispered, "no, no, fuck no."

"So Red, how's Henry, eh?"

"No, nope, not listening to this," Red growled and got up from his seat, sauntering out of the house.

"We heard you guys last week, you know! Henry's a screamer!"

Red yelled from outside the house, "Deane was right! You guys are fucking bullies!"

Brick and Samson laughed and high-fived each other.

They were going to be okay.

THE END.