Nate drove past the snowball stand mid-afternoon when the sun bore down hottest, and a line of folks were waiting to get their ice. Sarah wasn't working, but it made him think of her, which made him think of Bailey. Everything all the time seemed to make him think of Bailey anymore.

He wanted to drive over to his trailer and apologize, maybe pick up some flowers or something along the way, although he didn't know if Bailey would really appreciate cut flowers. Maybe some flower of a different kind. Another part of him, however, wanted to wait for Bailey to reach out to him. He could see Bailey's point that he shouldn't have threatened Tanner, on an intellectual level.

But also, that asshole still approached him. Was he supposed to stand there and bear insult? He was supposed to. That would be the mature thing to do, to have bought his second-favorite Monster flavor and pretend he never saw Tanner at the gas station in the first place. That would have probably infuriated the prick more.

Nate slowed at a stop sign and waved another car on when they hesitated to go. He dropped his hand to his face and rubbed it a few times with a sigh. He should be mature now, too. He should go over and apologize for crossing Bailey's boundaries and beg him for a third chance.

When the fuck did his life turn so upside down that he was getting second and third chances from Bailey Alexander?

Or maybe his life was finally upright, and he desperately did not want it to flip again. He did not want to go back to being cats and dogs, oil and water. He liked the little blossom of warmth in his chest when he thought of Bailey now much better than the pinpricks of irritation and adrenaline he'd felt before.

But Bailey also didn't have to freak out on him. He could have explained to Nate how this crossed a boundary from him and asked him not to do it again instead of throwing pillows. At least he'd been throwing only pillows. So, a part of Nate was hurt and wanted Bailey to reach out first. Even though, really, Nate had been the start of this and should be the one to just cowboy up and calmly tell Bailey he understood how he had upset him and would endeavor not to do so again.

He ended up standing on the front porch of the trailer with a bouquet of pink flowers that he held in front of his chest as though they were a shield. Last time he had no idea he was walking into an angry Bailey. This time his pulse thundered. They had come so far from when confronting Bailey always meant his heartrate race, spitting insults the moment they saw each other. Sweat dripped down his back.

The door opened, which was a good sign. Bailey would have recognized the sound of his truck and knew it was him. He stood there peering out with a guarded expression. Well, as guarded as he could be when his eyes were heavy and bloodshot. He looked fucking goners, gaze slipping from Nate's face to the flowers.

"Hey," Nate said.

"Hi," Bailey said back.

"Um," Nate held out the flowers, "A peace offering. I dunno if you even like flowers. I probably should have baked more apology cookies or something."

Bailey laughed at him. He giggled and stepped away from the door to go back inside, leaving it open, which was about as good of an invitation as Nate would probably get. He followed after, closing the door behind him and lifting his brows. Bailey had managed to essentially hotbox an entire mobile home.

The kitchen was a worse mess than he had ever seen. The lean of the dishes stacked in the sink was anxiety-producing. More dishes were scattered across the counters, as well as bags of flour, spices, and a dusting of flower, sugar and cocoa powder covered everything. There were brownies on the counter, several cooling racks of cookies, and a half-eaten tub of ice cream.

"What, does the church need baked goods for a fundraising sale?" Nate asked before remembering that he should tread lightly.

Bailey snorted. He picked up the tub of ice cream and swirled the spoon around the edge, then stuck it in his mouth.

"Sorry," Nate rubbed the back of his neck. The flowers were annoying now because they didn't come in a vase, just colored paper, which crinkled every time he moved. He couldn't lay them down in the middle of the kitchen mess, so he had to keep holding them. He took a deep breath, tried to move past the mess and flowers, and focused on Bailey. "Listen, I just wanted to apologize for...getting involved with Tanner like that. I shouldn't have let him rile me up, and I'm sorry for crossing that boundary. It won't happen again."

Bailey blinked slowly at him. "Am I hallucinating you?"

"What?"

He waved his spoon accusingly at Nate, "Are you real? The boy who used to have a meltdown and beat my shit in if I so much as breathed wrong in his direction..." He paused to eat another spoonful of ice cream thoughtfully while Nate bristled and tried to hold back an unhelpful defense that he had never really beaten Bailey's shit in, not like that. "That boy is here apologizing for crossing boundaries and giving me flowers? Uh-uh. You are a hallucination."

"Bailey, what the hell," Nate let the flowers drop to his side, paper crinkling in exasperation.

"Most people would be like...oh, sorry for upsetting you, so sorry you freaked out because I did something that I still don't think is wrong, but I'm going to apologize 'cause I like your ass." He twirled the spoon around and rolled his eyes.

"Stop deciding that I am like other people," Nate barked, then pinched his brow because he was getting hurt and upset, which was not going to help the situation. "It's fucking insulting that you keep comparing me to Tanner, Jesus."

Bailey frowned into his ice cream.

"Am I a hot head, sometimes?" Nate poked himself in the chest. "Yes, I am. But when the fuck have I ever invalided your feelings or concerns, huh? Even when you wanted to take out your bad day on me in school, I never fucking blew you off. And after all our conversations about sex and BDSM and communication and respect, I can't believe you would think that I'd come back here and shit all over your feelings like that. Just cause I like your ass. Fuck you."

He abruptly bit his lip and stood straight as a cold bucket of regret poured down his back. "I shouldn't have said that last part, sorry. But my point still stands."

Bailey set the ice cream and spoon down, then curled his hands into fists at his sides. He glanced up briefly, and Nate wondered for a moment if the red in his eyes was only from smoking. "I'm sorry, too."

"You're right, I keep trying to see the worst in, like, everything you do," he said. "And it's not fair. And I shouldn't have freaked out on you the other day. I just got freaked out and...I..." he glanced around the messy kitchen. "I just freaked out, I'm sorry."

The apple timer went off, and its ringing pierced through the air as it vibrated across the counter. Bailey startled and meandered over to it to shut it up, then frowned at the oven.

"Something ready to come out?" Nate asked.

"They might need a couple more minutes."

"Here," Nate went over and held out the flowers, concerned about Bailey handling hot things from the oven. "Can you find something to put these in, or throw them away if you don't want them?"

Bailey glared at him and grabbed the flowers from his hand. "Why would I throw them away?"

Nate shrugged as Bailey brushed past him to find something. This did not seem like the kind of house to have flower vases lying around. Nate searched through the chaos for a pair of oven mitts and pulled open the oven to find yet another bunch of cookies on a couple of baking pans. He pulled them out and set them on the stove, frowning because he didn't know what Bailey looked for to see if they needed a few more minutes or not.

When Bailey wandered back into the room, Nate pointed to the cookies and asked, "Do they need a few more minutes?"

Bailey set the flowers, now in a large mason jar, on the counter, and peered around Nate. "Nah, they are good. Let them sit on the pan for a bit then we can put them on one of the cooling racks."

With that, he turned to start picking up the cookies on the cooling rack and putting them into a container. "Thanks for not hitting me the other day," he said.

"Jesus, Bailey," Nate burst out, "What the hell kind of thanks is that?"

Bailey's lips twisted into a grimace, "No, not like I think you'd smack me around or anything. Just, thanks for not letting it turn into a fistfight like it always used to when we were younger."

When they were younger? Just a month ago would be more accurate.

"Well," Nate waved a hand.

"If you want to punish me for being a brat, you can."

Nate put the hand he'd been waving around over his eyes. "No, that's not...that stuff is fantasy stuff. I'm not going to punish you for a fight we had in real life and I'm definitely not going to punish you for letting me see how much I upset you."

He let his hand slide down his face and peered at when he got no response. His hands had stopped stacking the cookies into the container, instead twisting in his clothes again. And he was pointedly staring at the half-empty cooling rack, avoiding Nate's gaze.

"Christ Bailey," he grabbed the other boy's hands from where they were twisting in his clothes and led him out of the disaster of a kitchen to the couch. It was also a bit of a mess of tangled blankets, but he sat them down and kept ahold of Bailey's hands between them. Bailey went along with all of this like he was being led to the chopping block, lips parted and eyes downcast. Nate wondered how on Earth he'd gone from righteous indignation and throwing pillows to apologizing for it.

"It hurt that you seemed to jump to the worst conclusion the other night," he said, "And it was frustrating that you started throwing around accusations and pillows instead of just telling me you were upset by it, but...I also am glad you let me know I crossed a line."

"I'm just scared you're going to turn into a possessive asshole," Bailey mumbled. "And like not let other guys even look at me or..."

"Or who punishes you when you get upset at him?"

Bailey huffed.

"Listen," Nate said firmly, "We're just playing around, right? Just experimenting. You're teaching me about BDSM, and we get to work our energy out with each other in nicer ways than punching each other's lights out like we used to. But none of that means we owe each other anything. We never made any promises, aside from respecting rules in our scenes and things like that."

If anything, Bailey's shoulder slumped even lower.

Nate floundered. "I'm just...I'm just saying maybe we were both in the wrong a little, but it's not as big a deal as we are making it out to be. I'll be less of a selfish asshole, and you can try to be less of a brat."

Even though neither of them was that anyway. Well, maybe at times they were.

Bailey's lips turned up in a small smile, and he peered through his lashes at Nate. "Okay."

"Okay," Nate squeezed his hands.

Then Bailey's eyes sharpened—as much as they could while they were heavy and bloodshot like that—and his lips curved into a smirk. "If this is how you resolve fights, maybe we should do it more often. Very mature. Very daddy."

Of course, Bailey would like getting talked down off the hysteria ledge, which, on the one hand, was fine but, on the other, irritated Nate a little. Being around Bailey sometimes felt like trying to pick his way through a minefield. And whenever he stepped on one because he wasn't careful enough, he had to diffuse it somehow or get himself blown to pieces. He probably should have thrown the flowers at Bailey and turned tail as soon as he saw he wasn't sober for the conversation because he did not like to be the only one diffusing. Those roles were for the bedroom only. But he didn't want to start a new fight.

"You're high," he said, letting go of Bailey's hands to untangle one of the blankets and wrap it around his shoulders. An air conditioner was positioned to blow right over the couch, so it was one of the few cool places in the house. "Do you want some of the cookies you made?"

"Sure," Bailey said. "You can have some cookies too, but leave the brownies alone, okay?"

Nate gave him a little salute, then went into the kitchen and sighed, knowing he would end up cleaning everything before he left tonight because, otherwise, the mess would keep bugging the shit out of him. 

A/N: Apologies for the late upload! I'm finally feeling a little better after a pretty rough weekend. Spring colds are never fun :/