The cab ride to their hotel was quiet, and Carmen regretted asking Osmond about his parents. He had known Osmond didn't want to talk about it, just as he hadn't all the other times he had hinted at wanting to know, but for some reason he had still felt compelled to ask. It wasn't any of his business in the first place, and he hadn't really thought that Osmond would tell him the truth, but he had and now Carmen didn't know how to feel.

He assumed that his pity would only annoy Osmond, so even though he felt it he tried his absolute best not to show it.

Especially since Osmond's grey eyes kept looking over at him every couple of seconds, as if he was trying to sense the emotions that Carmen was fighting to hide.

In all honestly all he wanted hug the boy and tell him that he was an amazing person for going through what he had and still coming out as, well, Osmond.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Osmond asked, his voice filling the silent cab and Carmen swallowed and turned to look at him.

Osmond was sitting very straight with his hands folded in his lap and Carmen couldn't help but to stare at them, thinking about how it felt to have the others palm against his own as they flew over Florida.

It had been nice, Osmond's fingers moving against his own, rubbing the skin in a way that was both reassuring and thoughtful. He wanted more. If Osmond reached over at that moment and took his hand he would happily intertwine his fingers through the others.

Osmond had the most wonderful hands, especially compared to his own. Carmen's hands were on the smaller side and he always thought they were too stubby looking to be proud of them.

But Osmond had the hands of a pianist. Long thin fingers, his knuckles and joints visible but not to the point where it was grossly so. They were so soft and warm, uncalloused as if he had never worked a day in his life.

"Carmen?"

"What?" He said quickly, his eyes flicking back up to Osmond's again before away as his cheeks heated. It was clear he had been caught staring.

"I asked if you're ready for tomorrow," Osmond repeated slowly and Carmen blinked.

They had their first performance the next night and was he ready?

"I'm never ready," Carmen said and Osmond's eyebrows raised. "I get terrible stage fright. It's worse the night before than the day of. I probably won't even sleep tonight".

"If you get stage fright then why did you agree to do this... tour?" Osmond asked, slowly as if he was searching for his words. Carmen snorted.

"Like I had a choice". This time Osmond blinked at him, his eyes asking his question for him. "You've met my mother before, Oz. She's forcing me to go Juilliard. Of course she's the one behind this".

It was the first time they had really talked about Carmen's parents since they all had dinner together, and for a reason. Carmen didn't like to talk about his parents. It was actually one of the last topics he would bring up, even if he was in a situation where he desperately needed something to talk about.

"You don't want to go to Juilliard?" Osmond sounded incredibly confused and Carmen sighed.

It was hard for Osmond to grasp the concept that for some people didn't love music as unconditionally as he did. That it was not as simple as that all the time. Carmen loved it, but he sometimes doubted that love. Did he love it because he loved it, or did he love it because he was made to love it.

"I don't know," Carmen said honestly, "but I just know that if I didn't want to go there it wouldn't matter".

"But do you want to?" Osmond asked again, his grey eyes boring into his so deeply that Carmen felt as if he should advert his eyes.

He did, but he didn't.

"I-"

"You said you wanted to stop and get some food, sir," the cab driver interrupted and Carmen watched as Osmond grit his teeth in frustration.

"Yes," the black haired boy said with a sigh, unbuckling his seatbelt to lean between the two front sheets for easier conversation.

Carmen couldn't hear what they were saying over the radio so he directed his attention to outside the cab. He had never been to Savannah Georgia before, even though it was one state north. His parents liked to go to far away places for their trips, not somewhere they could easily drive.

It was absolutely beautiful. There were trees with Spanish moss and buildings aged with time.

"Hey," Osmond had turned back to him.

"Yeah?"

"Have you had chocolate today?" Carmen was about to laugh before he realized the man was completely serious and cleared his throat.

"Um, no, I have not". And then Osmond was turning back around, picking up his conversation with the driver that Carmen could hear if he pressed himself against the back of the chair in front of him and turned his head in their direction.

They were talking about places to eat and the driver was currently describing a place that apparently had the best chocolate chip pancakes in all of Georgia.

"We don't really know what that means," Osmond said, "he's from Florida and I'm from Wisconsin".

"Wisconsin-" Carmen asked and Osmond looked to him. "That's where your fr-"

"Do you like pancakes?" The older interrupted and Carmen bit his lower lip at Osmond's frustrated tone and nodded slowly. "We'll go there then".

He told the driver this and then returned to his seat, buckling in and looking out of the window. Carmen felt like conversation wasn't welcome.

Did he already regret telling him about his parents?

***

"Stop looking at me like that," Carmen demanded, reaching around Osmond to get his bag out of the back of the car. Osmond had already taken his violin for him and was standing in the street looking down at him.

The tall boy had yet to stop staring at him ever since he had cleared his plate of pancakes at the diner, and Carmen couldn't figure out why. Osmond didn't say anything to explain his looks, only continued to talk about what they had been discussing for the entire meal; their upcoming performance.

"Sorry," Oz said quickly, immediately averting his grey eyes.

"What is it?" Carmen asked, resisting the urge to wipe his mouth yet again, afraid he had chocolate or something equally distracting on his face that Osmond just wasn't pointing out to him".

"It's just," the black haired boy paused to sigh, "I thought your brother told me that I'd have to practically force you to eat and yet-"

"What?" Carmen snapped, getting annoyed at the mention of his brother who he still needed to text and tell they arrived safely.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone eat that much in my entire life," Osmond said, watching as Carmen slammed the trunk shut and tapped on the car so the driver knew he was free to go. Osmond stepped up on the curb and looked down at him, even taller now and Carmen huffed.

"I don't think that's a fair statement," he argued, lifting his suitcase and sliding it up the curb. "You don't seem like the kind of guy who spends a lot of time eating with other people, and I hope you're not the kind of guy who spends time watching people eat from a distance".

Most people would be offended by this. He was practically telling him he didn't have many friends, but Osmond looked more amused than anything, which was still a relatively new facial expression for him and Carmen was not yet used to it. "Ahh," the pianist said, grabbing the handle on his suitcase and beginning to wheel it towards the doors of the hotel. "I shall make a correction then".

"Go for it," Carmen offered, though it really wasn't necessary. He began to follow Osmond at a faster pace to catch up.

"I've never seen you eat that much before".

"That's because I typically don't like the food I'm given to eat," Carmen confessed, trying to ignore when Osmond's eyes flicked over to him and failing miserably. He ended up staring at the other and Osmond had to stop him with his arm so Carmen didn't smack right into the door. "Um, thanks. But, they had really good pancakes. Exceptionally good".

"Agreed". Osmond opened the door and then they stood there like that for a moment before it occurred to Carmen that the door was being held open for him.

"Oh!" He chuckled lightly and glanced up at Osmond, just for a second this time, to see the other looking at him with a guarded expression.

The woman at the front desk smiled as they entered and Carmen immediately felt more relaxed, returning the expression gratefully.

"Hello, boys. I'm assuming you're the reservation under Huego?"

Carmen's steps faltered and he shared a quick, unsure look with Osmond; this meant that he was unsure and Osmond was emotionless.

"Mrs. Huego has been calling nonstop to see if you boys have gotten here yet. I'd suggest that you, whichever one of you is Mr. Huego, give her a call". Of course.

"I'll do that as soon as we get to our room".

The woman held out her hand with two keys in it and Carmen took a step forward to accept them. "205, dear, and the piano is in-" she pointed towards what looked like the dining room, "that room there.

"Piano?" Osmond asked immediately, looking intrigued.

"Oh," Carmen said, turning to him. "My mom wanted us to be able to practice so she only booked us at hotels that had pianos somewhere in them". Osmond looked relieved and trust Carmen's violin towards him. "Um".

"I'm gonna play for a bit, if that's okay," Osmond said, though Carmen knew that if he said it wasn't okay it wouldn't really matter to the black haired boy anyway. "It calms me do and today has been-"

Adrian, the airplane, his parents.

"Stressful," Carmen finished as he thought about all they had done and discussed over the three hours. Osmond nodded slowly, seemingly appreciative that Carmen understood. "I'll just go upstairs and... call my mother".

"Great," and then Osmond was walking away, pulling his suitcase behind himself as he walked towards the dining room.

Carmen sighed and turned back to the woman at the desk. "205?"

"205," she repeated before turning back to her computer screen. "Have a great night".

He wanted to ask what she was implying but decided it wasn't worth it.

***

Once he was finally able to hang up on his mother he laid in bed, on top of the covers in only his pajama pants and was still too hot.

It was the nerves, he knew, he wasn't actually feaverish, but that didn't make him feel any better.

Every single performance he ever had, he had made at least one mistake. Whether it was as squeaky note or a misplaced finger. Something always went wrong. It was part of the reason why his mother was so harsh about practice (though he wasn't nervous when he practiced so it was typically perfect). If he was going to go to Juilliard he couldn't have wrong notes. He couldn't have wrong anything.

When bedroom got too hot he threw on a shirt and left. It was a big hotel, though he didn't expect anything less when his father was paying. There were four rooms. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a spacious living room with a couch- three chairs and a large television. Osmond wasn't to be found in any of these rooms.

Carmen checked the time, 12:47, and thought that Osmond couldn't possibly still be playing the piano. They had arrived to the hotel just before eight, and playing for almost five hours couldn't be enjoyable. It probably would make your fingers hurt and give you a headache. From Carmen's experienced with the violin he could only stand it for two hours before it was too overwhelming to continue.

Even so, it was obvious that Osmond wasn't in the room, and there was really no other place for him to check, so he slipped into his shoes and grabbed a key before leaving.

And sure enough, when he slowly opened the door to the dining room it became obvious that that's where Osmond was. A soft melody was filling the room and Carmen peered around the door to see the boy at the piano, his eyes closed as he played, looking completely at ease.

His lips were slightly parted, Carmen noticed, and every once and awhile he'd furrow his brow as if trying to remember what came next but not once did he stumble.

For a long time Carmen stood there, leaning around the partially opened door to watch the beautiful boy in awe.

It startled him when Osmond's eyes opened, looking directly at him with no surprised and he felt his skin flush. He was going to say something to defend himself, but Osmond never stopped playing, his hands still moving over the keys as he looked at Carmen with a mostly blank expression.

It was when Carmen took the first step inside the room that the music suddenly halted and Osmond blinked slowly, as if he had been in a trance. "What was that? It was lovely" Carmen asked, crossing the room and rounding the grand piano to stand at Osmond's shoulder only to see there was no music on the piano.

"I'm not really sure," Osmond admitted, tilting his head back to look up at him and all Carmen wanted to do was run his fingers through his dark hair.

Maybe because he was tired, or maybe just because they were somewhere new so Carmen felt like he could be someone new, he did what he desired, his fingers gently pressing into Osmond's forehead for a second before he pushed his hand through his messy hair, just once, enjoying the feeling of the soft strands between his fingers. When his hand finished it's path he noticed that Osmond's eyes had closed and the boy looked relaxed, almost as relaxed as he had when he'd been playing the piano.

And then his eyes opened again, incredibly grey, and held so many complex emotions that Carmen couldn't help but stare back at him in return and try to decipher them.

"Can you teach me to play something?" Carmen asked, his voice quiet and Osmond nodded before lifting his head back up so he was facing the keys once more. Carmen slid around the bench so he was seated next to him. "Where do I put my hands?"

Osmond seemed to be thinking for a moment and then closed his eyes and lifted his hands, letting them rest against the piano before playing a quick scale. When his eyes opened again he nodded. "Right here".

Osmond kept his hands there until Carmen's fingers were hovering over his. They then switched positions, Carmen's hands on the keys and Osmond's just above. It was like he was nervous to drop his hands down on top of Carmen's, which was ridiculous since they had spent all that time on the airplane holding hands. "Can I?" Osmond asked, hesitant and Carmen only nodded. Warm fingers pressed against his own and his entire body shivered.

Now that he felt actual warmth on his body, Osmond's warmth, he thought about how cold he had actually been up in the room. This, what he was feeling right now, was real heat.

"This is C," Osmond whispered, applying pressure to Carmen's thumb and he instinctively pressed it down against the key.

"And this is B, and this is D," Carmen stated, pressing the two notes around it and Osmond hummed into his ear, his hot breath fanning across Carmen's neck and he couldn't stop himself from whimpering softly.

"A C scale is the simplest," Osmond said, seeming to not realize the effect he was having over the smaller boy, "there's no black keys". One of Osmond's hands lifted down an octave and he played the scale. "On your left hand, you play the first note with your smallest finger," he demonstrates, "and then all the way to your thumb. When you get there you cross over the top with your middle finger and finish with your last three fingers".

After another demonstration was given Carmen did this himself, ahhing in appreciation. "Is it the opposite for the right hand?" He asked and Osmond nodded. Carmen turned his head when he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.

His breath got stuck in his throat at their close proximity but Osmond didn't seem to be effected. Actually, he seemed quite content to keep his gaze solely focused on Carmen's lips.

The question that Osmond asked startled him.

"Have you ever kissed anyone before?" Carmen had not, so he shook his head 'no' slowly. "Do you want to?"

He pulled his lower lip in between his teeth and chewed on it for a moment. Did he want to?

First he thought about Osmond's friends, Ezra and Adrian, kissing in the airport and how jealous he had been of them at the time.

Then he thought about the boy in front of him with grey eyes that were fixated on his lip between his teeth. Did he want to kiss Osmond? They were just friends, weren't they? A friend who he barely knew anything about but a friend nevertheless. Osmond... easily irritated and angry and quiet and off putting and... and he was looking at him like he was the most perfect thing in the entire world, even with the piano right in front of them, and Carmen was falling for it. Hard.

Yes. That was his answer. Yes. He wanted to kiss Osmond Greyjoy.

And he said as much, his voice barely audible and dry.

He just had time to close his mouth and swallow before warm lips were pressing against his own and his eyes automatically closed.

A/N This is actually one of the first scenes I had planned. All I knew about it was that Osmond was going to be sitting on a piano bench with Carmen behind him, pushing his fingers through his hair, and then it just became this