A/N: Thanks a lot for the response in the first chapter! This chapter is a bit lighter, but then it gets serious too. Ho hum... where exactly am I taking this story? Hahahaha!

Make out!



Oliver's eyes widened as he sat up, staring down at Felix who was taking his time by stretching. Blinking, Oliver lifted the blanket and peeked under, his stomach falling when yep, he was naked - and from the looks of Felix's bare thighs resting beside his and at the one leg that was draped casually over his – Felix was naked too. Oliver jerked the blanket back down, a light, dizzying feeling buzzing in his head.

Felix turned to his back as he looked around the room. He slowly propped himself up on his elbows and looked over to Oliver, the blanket riding dangerously low on his slender waist. Oliver involuntarily shot a hand out and pulled the blanket up to Felix's chest so he wouldn't have to see anything. Surprised, Felix looked down and laughed as Oliver did so.

"What time is it?" he asked, resting a hand on Oliver's chest and gently pushing him back so he could check the watch at his side.

Oliver's jaw fell. Why the hell was he so fucking calm about things? How the hell did he get in his room – in his bed? What the fuck happened last night? Wasn't he supposed to be alone? What the fuck happened last night?

Oliver didn't even bother to let Felix check the time. He smacked Felix's hand off him and tugged the blanket over his chest, a sudden sense of self awareness forming. "Get off my bed!" he yelled, pulling the blankets off from under Felix, making his friend yelp and roll off the edge of the bed so fast, he didn't get to hold onto the edge before landing on Oliver's carpeted floor with a loud thud.

Felix pushed himself up and got to his feet in a second, his hands clenched at his sides. "What was that for?!"

Oliver groaned and covered a hand over his eyes as he tossed a pillow at Felix's naked lower regions. "Shit, Felix, put something on!"

Felix caught the pillow and immediately covered his lower regions with it as he frowned. "Well, my briefs are with you," he said flatly, pointing at them with his free hand.

Blinking, Oliver looked around him and his stomach fell for the umpteenth time that morning when he spotted Felix's briefs lying just above his own pillow. "Shit," he groaned, his face scarlet as he tossed the garment to Felix. His best friend put them on and sat back down on the bed as Oliver picked up his own boxers lying on the floor. He hastily put it on and turned back to Felix, his back against his bed's headboard.

Oliver looked down at his lap before asking, his voice dead serious. "Did you rape me?"

Felix's eyes widened momentarily, and something flashed in them before he started laughing. He threw the pillow back at Oliver, hitting him on his head. "Well... judging by the fact my back and ass hurts like hell, you probably raped me," he said dryly.

Oliver could have fainted at those words, but then it was his turn to narrow his eyes at Felix. He was about to yell back when he stopped, noticing two dark blotches just above Felix's collarbone. "Holy shit... is that a..." He trailed off, raising a trembling finger to point at Felix's neck.

Confused, Felix raised his fingers to his neck, and winced immediately when they pressed upon one dark splotch. "Oh," he concluded. "I guess it's a hickey... or two."

Oliver wanted to hide under his sheets and never get out. "Did I..."

Felix rolled his eyes. "Well I don't think I could have possibly done that to myself, could I?"

"Well, you look pretty calm if you're assuming I raped you," Oliver shot back, his voice shaking. Exactly how drunk did he get?

Felix shrugged, slowly sitting down on the bed beside Oliver. He crossed his legs and looked up at him. "You don't know... maybe it was consensual?" he offered vaguely, but then he quickly shook his head, laughing nervously. "I'm just kidding, I was drunk too."

Not sure if Felix was telling the truth, Oliver glared at him. "You drugged me."

Felix sat up, narrowing his dark eyes at him. "I know I'm a hormonal teenage boy, Oliver, but I don't think I'd resort to drugging you just to have sex," He cleared his throat and looked away. "You're cute, but not that cute."

The insult easily bounced off Oliver, who was so used to the barrage of insults him and Felix would exchange almost daily now. The animosity wasn't as thick as usual, but it was still there coupled with a killer headache. "Fuck," Oliver groaned, clapping a hand over his forehead before clearing his throat. "So... nothing like, real bad happened? You're in… a generally… healthy state, right?"

"Yeah, I am."

Oliver nodded. "So, it was... uh... a drunk thing? I didn't like... uh... force you?"

"Well, I don't think I'm mad," Felix said, shrugging. "My ass hurts a bit, but I dunno. I can't... really remember anything. You never know, maybe we both liked it."

"Be serious for a fucking second." Oliver chucked the pillow back at Felix, nearly knocking him off the bed again. He looked around the room and finally decided to just stare down at his bed sheets. "Uh... do you need a painkiller?"

Felix smiled, resting the pillow over his lap. "Yeah, sure."

Oliver nodded weakly, reminding himself to get one for himself later. "Um, okay... so, haha, it was a drunk thing," he repeated.

For a moment, it was like Felix wanted to say something. He kept his eyes on Oliver's, controlled emotion filling the deep, dark brown color in them. But he clenched his fist and looked away, nodding slowly. "Yeah. We were drunk. Things happened," he said, his voice hard. "It… just happened."

An awkward sense of relief filled Oliver as he nodded. Now that confusion and anger was over with, there was nothing left but the awkward feeling of what to do or say next. Without looking back at Felix, he slunk onto his back and pulled the sheets over his head, his back to his friend. "How did you get here?" he muttered.

"Uh, you called me last night."


Felix shifted once more, pulling his knees up to his chest, but immediately stretching them out before him when he winced in pain. "Yeah."

Oliver cleared his throat. "So... are you staying longer or something?"

Felix looked down at his friend, his hands set nervously on his knees, catching what Oliver implied. His voice was soft as he spoke. "So, that's it?"

Oliver still had his back turned to Felix, knowing that he hadn't said the right thing, knowing that there was a lot more he needed to say, to fix, to clear up. He didn't pull himself out of the sheets as he answered. "Just... I need to be alone for a while," he finally got out. "I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast."

For a long time, Oliver wasn't sure if Felix had left already. But he felt a shift in his bed beside him, and someone's footsteps padding across his room and stopping at the door. "I'll be downstairs," Felix said, and Oliver wasn't too sure if he caught a pained tone in his voice.

Oliver closed his eyes tightly, trying his best not to let out a string of expletives from his mouth.

Months ago, nearing the end of their junior year, it was just like any morning... well, except for the fact Oliver's basketball team had lost to Felix's for the second year in a row. Yes, his team had actually beaten him once. His team had won against Felix's during Freshman year, but only because Felix had to leave at halftime because of a stomach flu.

Oliver was pouring the milk into his bowl when Felix stepped into his kitchen, in only the sweatpants he borrowed from Oliver whenever he slept over at his house. He had a towel slung over his shoulder as he went over to the fridge. Oliver could sense something was wrong. Felix was usually a morning person, yet he was unusually quiet.

"Good morning," Felix said, opening the fridge door.

Oliver nodded. "Yep."

As Felix prepared his toast, they talked about small, trivial things to pass the time. Oliver shared what happened during his art class, where one of his classmates went crazy with the stapler gun and accidentally stapled himself to the wall, and Felix talked about his annoying Math teacher. It wasn't exactly an engaging, enthusiastic conversation – it was just random words to fill in the silence that would have otherwise been there, silence that Oliver didn't feel like bothering to fill since he was still in a pretty grumpy mood.

When the toaster gave out its small ring, Felix paused to get the bread, and the kitchen fell silent once more, the only sounds being the clinking of Oliver's spoon against his bowl, and the soft scraping of Felix's knife as he smoothed out the butter on his bread.

Oliver didn't feel like talking, so they didn't talk a while until Felix cleared his throat.

"I think I might be bisexual."

Oliver looked up from his cereal, holding his full spoon in the air as bits of cereal dropped back into the bowl with a small plop. What the hell?

Felix kept his head down as he poured himself some juice from across the island counter. He quietly set the juice back inside the fridge and leant against the counter when he was done, his eyes set on the glass he held in his hand.

Oliver set his spoon in the bowl as he raised one eyebrow. "Huh?"

Felix swirled the orange juice in his glass, his shoulders tense and his other hand clenched on the counter top.

Oliver sat up, unsure whether or not Felix was joking. Do you really just bring up those kinds of jokes in the middle of breakfast? Yeah, it probably was a joke… yeah, come on. Felix Senna? Gay? That's like saying those guys from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy liked women.

Oliver rolled his eyes and decided to play along. "So... all those times I've been calling you gay when he fought...?"

Felix nodded.

"Oh," Oliver said, narrowing his eyebrows at Felix. Wait… he was joking, right? He studied him to see if he was really serious. "Then..., sorry about that... well, at least they were only half-insults, right?" He laughed weakly, not wanting to fall for some joke.

Felix shook his head, giving Oliver an easy sideways smile. "No problem, you didn't know," He looked back at him momentarily, before giving him a weak smile. "But I think I might even be leaning toward... just gay."

Now Oliver didn't know if Felix was playing him or not. From what he watched in movies and heard in real life, people were supposed to be a bit more serious when it came to you know, discovering their sexuality and all, but Felix seemed to be pretty calm. In fact, it was almost like he was testing him, prodding Oliver for some sort of reaction he didn't know he was supposed to give.

Grumbling, Oliver bent his head down back to his food. "Okay, whatever," he muttered, scooping up another spoonful. If Felix was just playing... Oliver wasn't in the mood for games. "I won't tell anyone this little 'thing' of yours."

Felix set his glass down and nodded. "Okay," he murmured. "Thanks."

Oliver got up from his stool and walked over to the sink. He pushed their conversation into the back of his mind as he rinsed his bowl. He set it on the drying rack and wiped his hands dry with the dishtowel. "Hurry up," he said. "We'll be late for school."

Felix nodded once more as Oliver stepped out of the kitchen, his eyes still set on his glass, at Oliver's retreating reflection on its surface. "Okay."

Felix stepped into the empty kitchen and sighed, taking his usual seat by Oliver's island counter. As he climbed onto the stool, he stopped and winced, a small pain shooting up from his lower back and ass. He had to lean slightly forward to sit down. He almost laughed at how fucked up everything was now, how stupid he felt, at how stupid he was the night before.

He was on his way home last night when his phone started ringing. He almost thought it was a joke when the caller id said it was Oliver, especially since Oliver had been ignoring him for the past couple of weeks. Sighing, he flipped his phone open and pressed it to his ear. "What?" he asked, making sure to make his voice sound irritated, even though he actually felt glad Oliver was making an attempt to call him again.

There was drunk laughter on the other end. "I dunno, you tell me," Oliver drawled. "Oh, but I do know that there are actually seven – yes, SEVEN – light saber combat methods. Ho, ho, ho, didya know that!?"

Felix was sure he knew at least half of them since Oliver talked about it so much. "Yeah, I did." Against his better judgment, instead of turning left for his neighborhood, he turned the other way toward Oliver's home just to check on him. He sighed at himself. God, he was hopeless.

Oliver scoffed on the other end. "Oh. Great. Beat me again. Woohoo. Bye."

Oliver immediately hung up the phone, and Felix sighed as he drove up the Barton's long driveway. He pocketed his phone and as he got to the front door, he pulled out the key Oliver had given him when he was eight and opened it. Once again, the Barton house was empty, with Oliver's parents gone for another business trip. He walked up the stairs to Oliver's room, and he could already hear the sounds of light sabers clanging against each other from the other side of the door.

Felix knocked on the door before opening it, and he spotted Oliver on the floor, empty beer cans scattered across the carpet. He made sure to step over the Star Wars figurines on the floor as he made his way to his best friend. "Oliver," Felix breathed, crouching beside him and poking him on the shoulder. He reached for the DVD remote and turned it off. "Are you awake?"

Oliver shifted to his side, and from his face, it looked like he was not at all surprised to see Felix already there beside him. "You know what," he said, poking him on the shoulder with a can. Felix easily took it from his hold and set it down in case he was going to throw it somewhere. "I kinda hate you sometimes. Yeah, I think I do. Sometimes even more than Darth Sidious... or Maul... or maybe both... yeah, like Obi-wan, oh wait, Obi-wan was a good old guy..."

Felix sighed, bending down to haul his friend up. "Come on, let's get you to your bed – "

"No!" Oliver cried out, smacking his arm away. He turned around so his stomach was on the floor and pushed himself up. "I can do it myself." He clumsily got to his feet and he tried to keep still, yet he wobbled from side to side. Despite how every part of his body was wavering, Oliver's eyes were set on Felix's. "I'm being soooo fucking honest right now."

Felix blinked. "You're not in your right mind."

"Don't tell me I'm not in my – woooah." Oliver trudged over to him, slipping once but catching himself. Felix stepped back as Oliver approached him, but stopped when the back of his legs hit the foot of Oliver's bed. Oliver stopped in front of him, his shoulders rising and falling.

"What is it?" Felix asked, his voice falling.

Oliver exhaled through his nostrils like some tired, angry bull. "Sometimes I just want to hit that fucking handsome face of yours," he said. Felix noticed his fist clenching at his side.

Any other time, Felix would have blushed at the compliment, especially since it was coming from Oliver. But now, Felix expected Oliver to hit him, to release the anger he said he had for him. He was ready to dodge a fist to his face, but instead of Oliver's knuckles, it was Oliver's lips that crashed against his own, and he was nowhere near ready for that.

"O-Oliver – "

Oliver's lips closed over a surprised gasp and he automatically took control, despite knowing that this wasn't right, Felix's body let him, instantly feeling weak at his touch. Oliver left Felix with no power to resist and push him off. Instead, Felix was breathless as Oliver drew him fully into the kiss he knew was so wrong. It was a drunken kiss; their teeth clashed together, a sloppy tangle of tongues, it was all too messy, all too wrong, it even hurt a bit as he felt Oliver's teeth bite onto his lip, but Felix couldn't stop.

Oliver leaned into him and Felix fell back onto the bed. Every part of him knew he should have pushed Oliver off then, every part of him knew it was wrong despite the fact every part of him was letting it happen because he had wanted it for so long. He felt so selfish, taking advantage of Oliver's state to get what he wanted for so long when he knew Oliver would never do this if he was sober. Felix's hands weakly climbed onto Oliver's chest, about to push him off. But when he felt Oliver's slick tongue brush against his own, coaxing his mouth wider, instead of pushing him off, Felix's hands fisted the materials of Oliver's shirt, pulling him even closer. Felix felt Oliver's hand trail up to his face, holding him still, and he arched his body into Oliver's, leaving no space between them.

For a moment, Oliver's lips left his and Felix hated himself for giving out a small whimper at the loss of contact, at the sudden cold air that replaced the hot friction between them. His small whimper molded into a throaty moan as he soon felt Oliver's warm, wet lips trail down his neck, nipping against the sensitive skin. Felix cried out when he felt Oliver's teeth sink into his skin, and as he ran over the spot with the tip of his tongue.

"Oh, God," Felix moaned, his hands now over Oliver's back, his long legs wrapped around his waist as Oliver clumsily carried him more into the bed.

"Why do you do this to me," he heard Oliver mutter into his ear as he put him down. "God, Felix... why..."

"O-Oliver," Felix whispered, pulling his head back to look at Oliver's eyes for some sort of explanation, but they were clouded over with the influence of the alcohol. A pain in his chest blossomed at the sight. What would they have looked like if Oliver was sober?

Of course, Felix never got an answer. There were barely any words exchanged for the rest of the night, except for his loud, throaty moans that rang throughout the entire house, and the constant rocking of Oliver's bed springs.

Felix gripped his head above the kitchen counter, closing his eyes. He could still taste the alcohol on his lips – he could still taste Oliver on his lips. He almost wished he got drunk so he wouldn't remember any of it. It hurt to think only he'd remember all of it and he'd have to pretend he didn't.