A/N: Hellooooooooooooo. You guys are the best.  Anyway, if you can't see the last chapter, titled "Liquid Courage & Heat Lightning", then please follow me.  Wattpad locked it (boohiss!) and you can only read it if you follow me.  I don't make the rules, I just cry about them.  Here we go...

If you can't see the last chapter, message me your email address and I will send you the chap in a word doc. :)

I've never seen Tom in a fight.  Not a physical fight.  And I've never really seen him pushed to an extreme.  He's pretty even keeled most of the time.  I can easily annoy him, or make him frustrated, but I've never seen him at the point of angry, boiling rage.

When Chase comes barreling out of the bar, Tom puts two and two together, and he instantly knows why I am acting strange.  We both turn around when my name is called, and I freeze when I see Chase step outside.  He's smiling and he's got a dazed look in his eye.  He's already drunk.  It's barely past ten and he's completely hammered.  Someone give this man a medal.

Tom pauses and I take a half step behind him.  He looks down at me, and his blue eyes are blazing.  His jaw is set, and I can see the muscles bunching.  His anger is the still kind—completely motionless and reserved and under control in a dangerous way.  Oh no, this is not good.  This is not good at all.  I want to get away from the Ink Pot without anyone getting hurt, or the police being called.  I can just imagine the headlines now. Tom Harrison in Bar Brawl in Maryland! Tom Harrison in the middle of a lover's quarrel! Tom Harrison Sex God... Okay, so not the last one, at least...I don't know.  My stomach flips.  I have to get Tom to walk away.

"Charlie, don't you forget about our little talk." Chase calls out, taunting. He sways slightly at the door, and then takes a step forward.  Tom clenches his fists at his side, and I reach forward and slide an arm around his waist.  It's starting to feel a little too West Side Story in here, and I'm worried they will start snapping their fingers and flicking their pocket knives any second.

"Charlie, did he touch you? What did he say to you?" Tom says, but he's not looking at me.  I squeeze him tighter, and press my face into his side. 

"He's a loser, Tom.  You know that. I know that.  Please, can we just go? Please? It doesn't matter." I say softly.  Tom gently pulls my arms from his waist and he leans down, so he can see my face.  Even though he is white hot mad, Tom takes a deep breath and reaches forward, cupping my neck gently.

"It does matter.  You matter.  That guy's a fucking tosser, and someone needs to show him what happens when you're a complete prat."

"Language, TW!" I mumble.

"If you want me to walk away, I will.  I'll do what you want." He says softly, his eyes searching mine.  God, I could shag him right then and there.  The differences between these two men is astounding. 

"Thank you it's...duly noted." I swallow hard.  I wrap my hands around his arm.  "But yes, please, let's go." I ask.  Tom nods tersely and takes my hand.   We turn, trying our best to ignore Chase, who is still laughing and rambling to mostly himself.

"You guys are fucking adorable!" Chase laughs, and takes a few steps forward.  I bite my lip, holding my breath, praying he doesn't try to follow us.  "I know who you are, dude.  I know who you are." He points at Tom, nearly screaming. 

"I don't really care if you know who I am, dude." Tom tosses over his shoulder as we pick up our pace.  Chase follows us, stalking down the sidewalk.

"You're just some fucking B list actor.  Some douche whose fiancé fucked some other guy, right under your nose.  That's pretty hilarious.  Good luck with that." Chase grins and comes closer.  I flinch at the mention of Keegan, and I'm not sure how Tom is going to react at this point.  This night has gone from good to shitty in about fifteen minutes flat.  I feel Tom tense, but he doesn't rise to Chase's bait.  We keep walking, and Tom wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side.  Chase is walking with us at this point, at Tom's side. 

"Thanks, mate.  Good luck with the restaurant too.  Good thing daddy has been around to bail you out.  Does he still give you an allowance as well?" Tom asks, his voice steady.  I brace myself, waiting for Chase to react.  He stares at Tom with cold, dead eyes.  He eyes remind me of a fish's eyes.  Blank. Bottomless.

Just then, the door to the bar opens up behind us. I hear a woman calling Chase's name, and I glance over my shoulder.  Mallory is running out of the bar, coming toward us.  Great. This party just got even more fun.

"Chase...what are you doing?" She asks, her voice clear and unsure.  I feel bad for her, so bad for her.  I want to run over to her screaming 'Run away! Run away!'  Perhaps she doesn't see it either.  Maybe she is as blind as I was.

"Go inside, Mal." Chase waves a hand at her, but doesn't look at her.  We pause at the corner of the street where we need to cross over to get to the walkway toward the edge of town.  Chase is still standing dangerously close to Tom. It's uncomfortable, and I'm completely on edge.  Mallory catches up to us and holds a hand out to Chase.

"Babe, come on.  You're so wasted. Let's get another drink for the ride home, and forget about these guys." She begs. Chase makes a face at her and then takes a few heavy steps toward Tom and I.  Tom doesn't move, but by instinct, I take a step back.  Chase's face is beat red, and from this distance I can see beads of sweat at his hairline.

"Mallory.  Mal—do you know who this guy is?" Chase laughs suddenly, maniacally, changing the subject.  He points at Tom, and Tom just blinks. He's watching Chase with furious, wild eyes, and I'm not sure I've ever seen him look so fiercely angry.  It is so completely obvious how inebriated Chase is, it's not even funny.  I guess he was already drunk when he'd cornered me in the alley, and then he must have had more in the bar.  Mallory looks at Tom and then she crosses her arms over her chest.  She looks annoyed, and angry and as if she does this often.

"Yes, Chase.  He's an actor.  Please, let's go." She grinds out.  I reach forward then, and wrap my hand around Tom's elbow, and we start moving again.  Tom turns and directs me across the street.  Chase wavers at the corner, holding onto the street sign as if he'll fall over if he doesn't.  He keeps yelling as we move away.

"Fuck that, Mal.  Fuck that guy. Fuck Charlie.  You know what..." Chase rushes forward and stops about a foot from Tom.  Tom's jaw clenches, but we keep moving.  Chase is like some sort of obnoxious, furious little bug that just won't go away.

"Have a great time with my sloppy seconds, asshole.  Here's a tip--" Chase leans forward and yells at Tom.  "She likes it rough." He grins and then everything is suddenly moving in hyper speed.  Tom lunges forward, grabbing Chase by the front of the shirt.  Chase swings wildly at Tom, but is too slow and clumsy with alcohol that Tom deflects his punch and slams Chase hard against the side of a nearby truck.  The truck rocks with the force of it, and I am worried for a second that there will be a Chase shaped dent in it.

Chase has the wind momentarily knocked out of him, and he gasps for breath.  Tom shoves him hard into the car, leaning in close to his face.  I'm in shock for a second, but then I rush forward toward them both.  Mallory stands to the side, looking as if this isn't the first time she's seen someone grab her fiancé and shake him silly.

"You listen to me, you bloody wanker.  You don't touch her.  You don't talk to her.  You don't think about Charlie.  Do you understand? Her name shouldn't even leave your mouth.  I will make you regret the day you ever laid eyes on her if you ever bother her again. Do you understand me, you gormless little knob?" Tom presses Chase harder against the truck, and Chase's eyes nearly bulge from his head like one of those little plastic toys that you squeeze and their eyes pop.  Tom may be tall and thin, but he's stronger and much more powerful than he looks at first glance.  I rush forward, and put a hand on Tom's shoulder.

He releases Chase immediately, and takes a step back.  He shakes off his anger as if it were a dusting of flour, and then he looks at me.  His eyes seem to clear, and all traces of aggression disappear.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Tom shakes his head, knowing that fighting Chase's violence with more violence isn't exactly the best tactic.  Though I do have to admit, I got a strange thrill out of it.  

Chase is standing still by the car, his face in a daze.  He looks annoyed as Mallory walks over, grabbing him by the sleeve and yanking him away.  She starts screaming at him as soon as they are a few steps away. 

I turn to Tom, my heart pounding against my ribs.

"Thank you...that was...you were..." I whisper, not sure what to say. "Manly. A lot of manly things going on." I babble.  Tom laughs, then grimaces and it's without humor. He runs a hand through his hair, and then scrubs his hands down his face.  He looks tired, and suddenly a bit older.  I pull him toward me, and into a hug.  He caves against me, pressing his face into my neck.

"I'm sorry." He says again.

"No one's ever stood up for me like that." I say softly.  He groans and holds me tighter.

"Well, fuck. They should have." He mumbles.  I smile and grab him by the front of his shirt, and yank him down toward me.  I kiss him, standing on my tip toes. Tom pushes his hands through my hair, holding my face to his. Above us, thunder cracks through the sky and I jump. 

"Let's go home." I whisper into his ear. Tom grabs my hand and we start practically running down the street toward the hobbit hole.

****

We rush out of town, nearly running down the street.  I'm practically breathless by the time we make it to the field, and the thunder has picked up to every couple of seconds. It sounds as if it is right over our heads.

"We are going to get stuck in this downpour!" I shout to Tom over the thunder.  As if on cue, the dark night sky opens up and it begins to rain.  It's the kind of rain that only seems to happen in the summer—big, fat drops of rain that are cooler than the air, but still rather warm on your skin.  I yelp, and Tom starts laughing.  We keep running, though we are still a good five or ten minutes from the house.  Tom grabs my hand and yanks me toward one of the big oak trees on the property. 

It's as if we are in our own little magical tent.  The big, wide, arching canopy of the tree keeps most of the rain at bay.  We step underneath it as if it's an umbrella.  Tom laughs and shakes his head, flinging little water droplets everywhere.  His hair stands at all angles, messy and wet.

"We can wait til it calms down a bit." He suggests.  He looks at me, smiling, and I am so grateful that he is there with me.

"Thank you." I shout loudly over the rain.

"For what?" He shrugs and reaches up and tries to tame his hair.  I reach forward, taking him gently by the sides.  He steps forward, slow and steady.

"For being here with me." He's so close, and so handsome.  Even in the dark, I feel this deep, gut wrenching pull toward him.

"You're welcome." He says softly.  He leans down as if he's going to kiss me, but then he stops, just short of touching my lips. I feel his warmth, the heat of his lips near mine.  The smell of the rain on his skin.  I don't know how things have come to this.  It is nearly overwhelming.

"Oh...vanilla wafers." It slips from my mouth before I can filter it.  He laughs, loud and happy.

"What? What is that? Speak English, Charlie." He grins.

"It's just...you...are really handsome." I finish lamely.  I feel a lightness that hasn't been with me in days.  I feel more myself than I have in awhile.  The weight of everything that has been pushing down on me feels lifted.  It's as if I was in a room where the air was slowly getting sucked out, and suddenly, someone has opened a window.  The air outside is sweet and clean and...British?

"Thank you." Tom smirks.

"Don't be smug." I laugh.  He rolls his eyes and leans into me.

"I didn't mean to be."  He puts his hands on my shoulders, rubbing up and down my arms slowly.  "Charlie, I don't want to bring up a sore subject but do you think we should call the police about Chase? You could file a restraining order or a report?" He asks gently.  I nod.

"It's probably a good idea.  Croissants just aren't working anymore." I sigh.

"Croissants?"

"I've thrown them at him.  Multiple times."

"I hope they were old and rock hard." Tom says quietly.  I lean toward him, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

"My croissants don't get old and rock hard.  They're always soft and lovely." I whisper.  He chuckles and nods.

"I bet they are." He watches as I pull on the buttons of his shirt.  I take a deep breath.  No more secrets. No more walls.

"I thought I was strong.  I thought I could handle him.  I think I was wrong." I manage to say.  The rain falls soft around us, a pattering in the field and on the tree branches and leaves.  Tom shakes his head.

"You are strong.  You did handle it.  A lot of it.  But he's too much for one person.  You shouldn't be alone on this.  You're not alone, you know." His voice is so kind, and I have felt so numb for so long.  It feels good to hear his words.  Indescribably good.  I feel my chin quiver and I lean my forehead against his chest.  Tom pulls me into him.

"Were you really going to beat him up for me?" I ask teasingly.  He scoffs and we start swaying gently, locked in a hug.

"I'd do anything for you, Charlie.  You know that, right?"

I shake my head, "I do."

"Good."

"I'd do anything for you as well.  Aside from eat mushrooms or do karaoke." I grin.  Tom laughs loudly, his laugh is like the best music I've ever heard.

"You have done karaoke."

"I was really, really drunk."

"It was terrible." He smirks.  I slide my hands up his chest and onto his shoulders. 

"At least I dance with you."  He perks up, pulling me into a slow dance.  We begin to move, the rain around us our music, the water rustling through the branches our melody.  He spins me around, smiling, and I twirl, laughing as we keep moving.  I tumble against his chest and we reassume what I can only guess is possibly the worst dancing pose known to man.  It doesn't matter though.  We have our own song.  Our own dance.

Everything sort of dissipates.  It's just the two of us.  There is no Chase.  There is no Keegan. I can only wonder how things would have been if he'd never meet Keegan.  If it had always only been the two of us.  I gather my courage, and I dive into the last remaining deep, still pool that remains untouched between us.

"I kind of wish you'd never met Keegan." I whisper into the night air.  Tom is quiet.  He leans down and brushes his face past mine. 

"I know it's terrible.  I know you loved her.  But I'm selfish.  I'm a horrible person and I..." I breathe in the scent of him.  His closeness is intoxicating. I can't finish my sentence.  It is stuck in my throat and I'm terrified of letting it go.

Tom moves his face past mine slowly, our cheeks brushing against each other.  We sway slowly and I pull my hand from his and wrap my arms around his neck.  Tom inhales, his breath deep and ragged.  He pulls away, removing my arms from his neck and taking me by the hands. We stop dancing. 

"Charlie, we all have things we have to keep to ourselves.  Whether for self preservation or as a defense mechanism." He says softly, steadily.  I lean against the trunk of the big, old tree.  The bark is rough, and warm from the summer air.

"What do you keep to yourself?" I ask, barely audible. My heart is hammering in my chest.

"A lot." He nods and then turns his head and looks away.

"Tell me one thing, then. A secret." I ask. The rain pours around us, and it is the only thing we can hear. 

 "Um, let's see." He clears his throat. We wait for a moment. "When I was ten or eleven, I knew my parents were headed for divorce, though I was terrified at the thought of it.  I was heartbroken when it happened.  And from then on I promised myself I'd only get married when it was for sure.  When I was certain." He looks at me, and then we both sort of laugh, thinking of Keegan.

"What was Keegan all about then? You had to have known..." I trail off.  He groans and then shakes his head.

"I don't know, Charles. I don't know." He crosses his arms over his chest.  "Your turn." He says.  I roll my eyes and feel myself blush, thankful for the darkness.

"I don't think I have anything left to reveal.  You sort of got a big handful tonight." I say under my breath.  Tom leans over and tilts his head toward me.

"So, I'll go again. Yeah?" He offers gently. I force myself to look at him. 

"Okay." I nod.

"You've always told me that you didn't want to get married.  From the first day I met you, that's what you've said." He starts, and already I can feel my stomach start to do flips.

"Yeah." I manage.

"And ever since I've know you, you've sort of filtered through guys and never taken any of them seriously." He keeps going.  I nod.  It's true.  He's not judging, we both just know it's a fact.

"You've always sort of confused and mystified me.  Why someone who had so much to offer, was hiding it all away.  Didn't want to share it with anyone else...or feel the need to share it." He leans forward and I feel his arm brush against mine.  I'm frozen, just barely breathing.  "I figured if that's what you wanted, then I would respect that.  I had and have no reason to believe otherwise." He clears his throat.

"I don't want to get hurt again.  I don't know if I could do it again." I whisper.  Tom nods slowly and he covers my hand with his.  I intertwine my fingers through his.

"I know, sweet." He says gently.  "I know that now.  I knew there was a story there, but I never knew what it was." He swallows. 

"So what does...my sad little story have to do with you? A secret of yours?" I ask, licking my lips.  He stares at me for a minute, his eyes dark in the moonlight.  I can see the outline of his jaw, his nose, the line of his lips.

"I couldn't have who I really wanted.  She wasn't available and I didn't know that she ever would be." His voice is so soft, but he's speaking only for me.  The rain around us is constant, but the air around us is so still and calm. 

"I stayed with Keegan because she was a place holder. Because I was an idiot thinking that she could fill the void left by who I really wanted.  So, I stuck by Keegan as long as I could. And I loved Keegan, I did, but not like I should have loved her. I couldn't do it anymore.  I was lying to myself and to her because... Charlie... Charlie, she wasn't you." He lifts his head, and I'm speechless.

"You weren't the reason I broke up with Keegan.  But you were the reason I couldn't marry her." He breathes.  "I couldn't stop thinking about you. Whenever Keegan and I would do things—planning for the wedding, going out together, I just kept thinking 'Would Charlie like this? Is this what Charlie would do?'" He presses his lips together, and then brings one of his hands up to his mouth.  He touches his lips, thinking for a moment.  I feel as if all the air has been sucked out of me.    

"And I had to really ask myself...if I am marrying Keegan, why is it that the only woman I can think about...is you?" He looks at me then, and if I were a woman who fainted, I would have fainted.  I feel light and airy.  And I am suddenly madly, dizzyingly thankful for those terrible cream puffs I made years ago.

"I don't know how you feel about me. I know things have changed in the last few days.  And it's filled me with a happiness and a hope like I've never, ever felt.  But I'm terrified of how you really feel.  I'm terrified that I'm just Tom, the best friend.  And if that's the case, Charlie, I will take that role.  Gladly.  I will be there for you 100 percent and nothing will change.  But if there's a chance...if there's a chance that this summer has meant more to you.  If there's a chance that you could see me as more, then please, give me a chance.  I came here—I came to Maryland, because you were the only person in the world that I wanted to see.  And I just had to give it a shot.  I couldn't live with myself unless I took this chance." He finishes softly, both his hands covering mine.  There are a million things that run through my head, including a few legitimately wonderful curse words, but the only thing I can think to do is kiss him. 

And so I do.