Drew had long ago learned that Andy's "ideas" were often ill-advised ones that usually involved breaking two or more campus rules. But when Andy grabbed his hand, he let himself be led to the apartment's little bathroom.

"What—" Drew said as Andy reached in, turning the water on.

"C'mon," Andy said. "Get undressed." His tone was brisk and light, like he was asking Drew to pass him the salt, and he pulled his sweatshirt and shirt off in one go. When he emerged from his clothing, tossing it on the ground, his hair was rumpled, and his eyes glinted.

Drew could feel the blood rushing to his crotch at the sight of Andy undressing as steam billowed up from the water, fogging the mirror. Andy turned as he shed the last of his clothing, giving Drew a perfect view of his ass.

"I mean, you don't have to join," Andy said airily, glancing over his shoulder. "But you should."

Drew swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he quickly pulled off his clothes, nearly tripping and falling in his haste. This wasn't like anything they'd done before. Yes, the first time they'd done anything, they'd both been sober, like now, but then the room had been dimly lit, and they'd barely spoken, biting back gasps of pleasure and pleading.

This time, though, the lights were on, and Andy had left no doubt about what he was asking for. And when Drew stepped into the shower, the water luxuriously warm, he found Andy was hard as well.

Just two guys showering together, Drew said. No big deal. Totally normal.

The shower seemed small enough when it was just Drew, and now there was no way to avoid touching Andy. But that seemed to be the goal, because as soon as Drew stepped in, Andy spun around, looping his arms around Drew's neck and pulling them both under the spray.

Drew gasped as Andy closed the distance between them, burying his face against Drew's neck, their bodies water-slick against one another, their cocks trapped between them. He'd only ever touched Andy's cock with his hand, and it felt delicious and taboo all at once to feel Andy's length sliding along his own.

"Fuck," Andy whispered against Drew's neck, grinding his hips up against Drew, and automatically, Drew brought his hands to Andy's hips, pulling him closer.

A small, distant part of himself was yelling to him, completely confused. This was too intimate, too much. Either Andy felt something too, or Drew was in over his head—or perhaps both. Surely there was no way that what they were doing was just sex anymore.

It certainly wasn't to Drew. What they had was too sweet, too tender, too important—

Drew pushed those thoughts aside. He could mull over what this meant afterwards. For now, he just wanted to run his hands over Andy's body as the warm spray of water rained down on them in this private little world they'd created.

Andy pulled back but kept his hips pressed against Drew's. Drew's cock twitched when he saw Andy's expression—heavy-lidded and hungry, his pupils blown wide. His lips were parted, pink and glimmering with little droplets of water—

There was nothing Drew could do but lean down and kiss him. And so he did.

If Andy was surprised, he didn't show it. He melted against Drew, bringing one hand to the back of Drew's head to deepen the kiss. They hadn't kissed since that one afternoon in the alley after happy hour, but somehow Andy's mouth felt familiar against his, like the jut of Andy's hipbone or the way his stomach muscles contracted when he came or all the other intimate little details Drew had come to know about his friend.

Without breaking the kiss or losing his hold on the back of Drew's head, Andy reached out with his free hand, feeling for something. A shampoo bottle fell to the floor, clattering loudly, and they laughed against each other's mouths. A moment later, Drew felt Andy's hand on his body, a bar of soap cupped in his palm.

Andy shifted slightly, shoving his leg in between Drew's so he was grinding against Drew's thigh, running his free hand over Drew's chest and stomach, working up a rich lather. Drew reached out, pressing a hand against the slick tile of the shower wall. He felt pleasantly dizzy from the heat and the steam and the feeling of Andy's hand sliding over every line and curve of Drew's body.

When Andy had run out of parts of Drew within arm's distance, Andy broke the kiss, grinning up at Drew with a devilish look on his face. He looked proud of himself, and Drew realized that he himself had gone slack-jawed and panting under Andy's ministrations.

Andy pressed the bar of soap into Drew's hand, turning slowly and leaning his back against Drew's chest. Drew's cock slid easily against the cleft of Andy's ass, and Drew inhaled sharply as Andy pulled Drew's arm around him, clearly urging Drew to return the favor.

"Bossy," Drew whispered into Andy's ear, hearing how wrecked his own voice sounded.

"Yeah, but you love it," Andy said. Andy's breath hitched, going harsh and uneven as Drew began to run his hands over Andy's body, intoxicated by the feeling of soft lather and firm muscle, luxuriating in this chance opportunity to explore Andy's body.

Andy reached back, digging his fingers into Drew's hips, encouraging him to grind his cock against Andy's ass, and Drew was more than happy to oblige. Andy sighed and leaned his head back against Drew's shoulder, exposing the length of his neck, and he let out a needy little whine as Drew inclined his head to kiss the sensitive skin there. He set the soap aside, bringing one hand to Andy's hip to steady them both.

Drew's other hand found Andy's cock, and even in the steady stream of the shower, he knew Andy was dripping. By now, Drew knew exactly what Andy liked best, the places he was most sensitive, what touches would bring him the most pleasure. Soon Andy was moaning softly and wriggling desperately against Drew.

"You're so good," Drew whispered against Andy's skin. He had to stop himself from saying more, because as soon as he opened his mouth, there were a million things he wanted to tell Andy, about how bright and charming and sensitive he was, how the disparaging way Andy perceived himself was so, so far from the truth.

"Drew—" Andy gasped. Drew thought Andy might be close to coming, but instead Andy snaked his hand behind him, finding where Drew's cock was still trapped against Andy's ass. Drew wasn't quite sure what Andy was trying to do until Andy guided Drew's cock into the tight channel between his legs, just under his ass.

"Fuck," Drew hissed as Andy's legs squeezed tighter, creating a friction that was entirely unlike the feeling of Andy's hand on him. It was the most intimate thing they'd ever done, Drew's cock nestled in the heat between Andy's legs, just behind his balls, and Drew found himself gasping for breath, resisting the urge to thrust against Andy.

But it seemed that was exactly what Andy wanted Drew to do, because Andy began to rock his hips subtly, sliding along Drew's cock. Drew couldn't stop the little growl of pleasure Andy teased out of him, and he brought both hands to Andy's hips, bracing himself as he began to thrust into that slick, hot friction.

"Yeah—" Andy gasped, almost breathless. His head lolled forward, and he braced himself on the wall in front of him with one hand, working his cock with the other. Andy was bent forward slightly, and he tilted his hips back to meet Drew.

"Fuck yeah," Andy breathed. "Keep going—"

Drew started to move faster, and with every thrust, Andy let out a little moan or gasp of encouragement, making noises that weren't quite words as his hand stroked his cock furiously. His head was hanging down, and Drew knew his eyes were probably squeezed shut, his lips parted—the expression Andy always wore when he was close to coming.

Andy leaned even further forward, his outstretched arm trembling as he braced himself, again shoving his hips back against Drew, and it wasn't hard to imagine that he was actually inside Andy, thrusting into the tight, wet heat of Andy's ass, hearing Andy cry out in pleasure as he buried himself—

And before he even knew it, Drew was coming, his hips stuttering against Andy's in this strange simulacrum of sex, perfect and too much and not nearly enough all at once. Andy made a hoarse, harsh noise, and then he was coming, too.

When they'd both finished, they straightened up, shifting apart, and Drew found he was suddenly jelly-legged. The water wasn't quite as hot anymore, but when he reached to turn it off, Andy caught his hand.

"Not yet," he whispered. He'd turned to face Drew, and without meeting Drew's gaze, Andy buried his face against Drew's chest, lacing his arms around Drew's waist. The embrace was oddly innocent and chaste, given what they'd just done, and Drew wrapped his arms around Andy, holding him close.

And in the post-orgasm bliss, Drew allowed himself a moment to fantasize—he imagined Andy was his boyfriend, that he was Andy's support, his protector, the person Andy turned to when he needed help. And in return, Andy was Drew's light, his sparkle, the person who challenged Drew to adventure and explore.

"You're so good, babe," Drew murmured, his lips pressed against Andy's wet hair, and he immediately blanched. He'd been thinking of what he would say to Andy in that scenario, but he hadn't meant to actually say it. Maybe Andy hadn't heard, though, because he didn't flinch or pull away.

After a moment, the water had turned decidedly cold. Drew turned the water off, and they stepped out, toweling themselves off in a silence that felt charged but not exactly awkward. Andy's head was still bowed, and he seemed to be pointedly not looking at Drew. Drew's stomach dropped.

"Are you okay?" Drew asked. Andy's head snapped up, but he seemed to be looking at Drew's forehead instead of meeting his gaze.

"Yeah," Andy said, nodding a little too enthusiastically. "Tired." There was something in his expression, but Drew couldn't quite read it—it wasn't anything he'd seen on Andy's face before. Drew wondered if Andy regretted what they'd just done, if Drew had inadvertently crossed some line. He hated the idea of Andy wanting to take back something that, to Drew, had been completely mind-blowing.

Well, what were you expecting? a nasty little voice in his brain said, and Drew pushed it away quickly.

They pulled their clothing on and went back to their room. Max and Finn still weren't back from wherever they'd gone, and though the daylight was starting to fade, Drew lay down on his bed on top of the comforter, exhausted from such an intense orgasm. He knew he'd fuck up his sleep schedule if he took a nap now, but his pillow was suddenly the most inviting thing in the world.

"Fuck, I'm sleepy," Drew mumbled, just to break the silence between them.

"Me too," Andy said from somewhere across the room. He paused a moment. "Can I… Is it okay if I join you?"

Drew opened his eyes to see Andy hesitating in the middle of the room, gnawing his lip, his brow furrowed. He seemed oddly shy, and it was strange to strange to see Andy looking so unsure.

"Yeah, of course," Drew said. He scooted over, and Andy climbed onto the bed next to him. Andy rolled onto his side, resting his head on Drew's shoulder and draping his arm across Drew's stomach. Drew was surprised, but he shifted, wrapping his arm around Andy's shoulders.

"This okay?" Andy said, and Drew made a soft affirmative noise.

They lay like that for a little longer, and Drew realized he was wide awake again. Over and over again, he told himself Andy was straight. That was, after all, what Andy had told him so many times before. He had to take Andy at his word—any chemistry between them was solely in Drew's imagination.

Whenever they'd jerked each other off, Drew had always assumed that Andy was picturing a woman's hand on his cock, and touching Drew was simply returning the favor. There'd always been a certain amount of plausible deniability when they were just grinding against each other in the dark, some kind of elaborate form of masturbation.

But today they'd kissed. Today, he'd come thrusting against Andy, almost like he was fucking him. Hell, Andy had encouraged him. He'd liked it.

And Drew wasn't sure how Andy could possibly come up with a heterosexual explanation for that.

But maybe—maybe all this, trying to understand what Andy was thinking and feeling and wanting, was just more wishful thinking on Drew's part.

After a moment, Andy inhaled, and Drew braced himself for Andy to reiterate that what they were doing was just about getting off.

"Thanks," Andy said, his voice soft.

"For what?" Drew asked, thrown off balance.

"For… not making me feel like a dumbass. For not acting like I’m a hysterical drama queen or something."

Without thinking, Drew brought his free hand to Andy's, lacing their fingers together. Andy didn't pull away. Drew was quiet for a long time, his mind going blissfully blank for once, Andy warm against him. He stroked Andy's hand with his thumb over and over, trying to somehow tell Andy without words how much he cared about him.

"You can come home with me for Thanksgiving, if you want," Drew said. The invitation surprised him as he said it, but it also felt strangely right. And even if they hadn't been getting off together all semester, it was well within the bounds of their normal friendship to invite Andy home for a break.

"Really?" Andy asked.

"Yeah," Drew said. "I mean… my family's… a little… conservative. They're nice and all, they're just—"

"Rednecks?"

Drew snorted.

"Um, I was trying to think of something less derogatory, but sure," he said. "So if you don't mind hanging out with people who probably don't believe in evolution, then sure."

Andy laughed.

"They don't really not believe in evolution," he said.

"I'm not quite sure, actually," Drew said. "I avoid conversations like that at all costs."

Andy paused.

"Thanks," he said. "That… that sounds really good."

And despite how jumbled up and confused Drew felt about everything that was happening between him and Andy, he found himself smiling broadly at the thought of spending the holiday together.

* * *

By the time Thanksgiving break rolled around, though, Drew regretted inviting Andy to his home. It wasn't that he didn't want to be with Andy—he did. For some reason, though, it hadn't really sunk in until just now that Andy would be seeing all unappealing, unglamorous parts of Drew's life that he'd managed to segment so neatly from his time at Bellamy.

Drew felt uncharacteristically anxious at the thought of these two spheres of his life intersecting. It was hard to imagine Andy, whose childhood home literally had a white picket fence, sitting in Drew's kitchen, with its grungy, flecked linoleum and a window that looked out onto what had once been the garden his mother loved tending.

Though, Drew reasoned, if there was anyone he trusted to show this part of himself to, it was Andy.

In a way, Drew was less concerned about what Andy would think, and more about interacting with his family again. It'd only been a few months since he'd last seen his father, but Drew felt like he'd become an entirely different person. He knew as soon as he walked into his uncle's house for Thanksgiving dinner, they'd immediately begin hounding him for his plans after graduation.

However, they always managed to phrase the question in such a way that implied that if Drew didn't move back to Parsons and work in the mines like the rest of the family, Drew was somehow putting on airs. Drew wasn't sure why they assumed that, no matter how many hints he tried to drop—he wasn't going to Bellamy because it was relaxing, after all. It had been easy to brush off their comments when graduation was far off and slightly hypothetical, but now that the end of his undergrad was approaching and he was applying for jobs, it seemed all too real.

Drew had no idea how to tell them he had no intention of returning to Parsons, and that older corner of his life, once he was done with school. No combination of words seemed to exist that conveyed that Drew didn't think he was better than his family or his father. Drew just thought he was different. Though he'd grown up in Parsons, it would never truly be his home.

The conversation would have to happen eventually, he knew. But, like coming out, Drew kept putting it off, knowing that once he crossed that line, it would never be uncrossed. Though he wasn't someone who tended to procrastinate or put off unpleasant tasks, he was willing to wait until the day of graduation to say anything, if it meant preserving his relationship with his father for just a little while longer.

A small, irrational part of his brain, too, kept yelling that somehow, everyone would be able to tell that Drew was gay—as if, suddenly, by virtue of what he'd done with Andy over the course of the semester, he now had a billboard hovering above him, announcing his sexuality. And while Drew knew this was ridiculous, a part of him wondered if some of his more observant relatives would notice the way Drew looked at Andy, would see something Drew had never intended to show.

And, Drew realized, the scariest part of all was not his relatives knowing how Drew felt about Andy. Drew was terrified that somehow over the break he'd reveal to Andy just how strongly he felt about him.

And once Andy realized Drew was falling in love with him, that would be the end.