May
1995

The morning after the party, Peter and Danny woke up outside, sprawled across a pair of sun loungers, still wearing their damp suits from the night before. There was chlorine in their hair, whiskey on their breath, and a pounding in their heads.

"Fuck me." Peter groaned, wincing as he sat up, the sunlight scorching his eyes, his brain throbbing beneath his skull. "This is what a hangover feels like?"

Danny was rubbing his eyes, sitting up slowly as to not worsen his splitting headache, "We slept outside?" He looked around, confused. People were zapping around the patio, taking down nets of fairy lights, clearing away tables of hors d'oeuvres, and empty bottles of champagne. The housekeepers had seemingly already placed two bottles of water on the ground between their sun loungers, accompanied by a mini dish holding a couple of painkillers.

"I don't remember half the night." Peter rubbed his temples, trying to jog his memory. He recalled a blur of faces; Neve Olson, Vanessa Harding, Jason Kelly. Then there was the tray of mushrooms, the bottle of whiskey in the games room, and a hug he couldn't shake. Then the pool; chlorine, and a ruined suit. The vague recollection of someone telling them off; Andrea? Talk of a camera, a photo, a rogue photographer who had been somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. After that, it all got a little hazy.

Danny swallowed one of the painkillers, followed by half the bottle of water, "Shower." He mumbled, standing up, and clutching his head as he did so.

Peter followed him back into the house. There were more uniformed workers there, dissembling the party decorations and sweeping the floor. Andrea was there too, brows furrowed, eyes scanning the cover of a magazine. When she saw them, a fire ignited in her eyes, "Daniel." She said firmly; like a Mother scolding a child.

"Andrea." He sighed, "Please, just give me an hour before you start shouting at me." He groaned miserably, "I'm on the verge of death here."

"Oh, you certainly will be on the verge of death soon." She slammed the magazine into his arms, "How could you be so irresponsible? You're twenty two years old, and you're acting like an unsupervised child!"

He looked down at the cover of the magazine. It was a photograph of Danny, Peter, and Jason, floating around in the pool, wearing expensive suits. The caption read: 'DANIEL FOX MAKES A SPLASH AT PARTY, WITH JASON KELLY AND MYSTERY MAN'

"This isn't even that bad." He rolled his eyes, tossing the magazine aside.

She scowled at him, "Security have been informed, and are currently trying to work out how the paparazzi got in. As for your reputation as Hollywood's golden boy, kiss that goodbye, because you're now the reckless kid who gets drunk and does stupid shit with his friends!" She exclaimed, "And you." She turned to Peter, "I don't know who you are, but I hope you're prepared to have every gossip magazine in Hollywood trying to figure out your identity. They won't stop until they find out who this 'mystery man', taking a dip with Daniel Fox and Jason Kelly, is."

"Hey, lay off." Danny snapped at her, "It's gonna be fine-"

"Are they really gonna try and find out who I am?" Peter's eyes widened in alarm, turning to Danny in horror.

Danny swallowed hard, shaking his head in an attempt to reassure Peter, "It will all blow over-"

"No, it won't." Andrea barked, "They only have to talk to anyone who attended last night's party to find out who Peter is!" She exclaimed, "And you know what comes after that."

Peter paled, "What comes after that?"

"They're going to start digging. They're going to want to know everything; how you know Daniel, how long the two of you have been friends, what you're doing in LA." Andrea took a deep breath to try and calm herself down, "If there's any skeletons in your closet you better tell me now so I can prepare for damage control."

Peter could have passed out. For a moment, he even thought he did. Because everything was cold and black and empty. Then he was back on Earth, Andrea watching him expectantly, while Danny wore a guilty expression. "I...I..." Peter stammered. His mouth was dry and his head was pounding and his world was collapsing.

"Peter's spent some time in prison." Danny finally said, his voice plain and unreadable.

A muscle in Andrea's jaw twitched, but she took a deep breath, and calmly said, "What for?"

The two boys exchanged a worried glance. Then Danny sighed, "Murder."

Andrea could have leapt forward and strangled Danny. She was furious. The rage practically seeped out of every pore. "And you brought him here?" She exclaimed angrily, "To a party full of A list celebrities? Are you fucking insane?"

"He served his time!" Danny shot back challengingly, ignoring his headache and his mind numbing hangover. "It's not like he's a wanted criminal!"

She turned to Peter, "You need to leave."

"No, he doesn't!" Danny placed an arm on Peter's shoulder protectively, "He's my friend."

"I don't give a shit if he's your fucking brother." She seethed, "I give it twenty four hours before the whole fucking world knows you're friends with a murderer. Good luck getting the lead role in the next big blockbuster movie with him at your side! If he stays, you'll be doomed to a life of playing the love interest in shitty hallmark Christmas movies!"

Danny tightened his grip around Peter's shoulder. He betrayed him once before. He left him behind, to rot and wither away. He wasn't about to leave him again. Never, ever again. "Peter isn't going anywhere."

Peter looked up at him helplessly, his big brown eyes shining in the light. And suddenly, he looked so much like Scott that Danny had to look away.

"Daniel." Andrea steadied her voice, trying to sound reasonable. "It's my job to protect-"

"Peter stays." Danny said stubbornly, "You can start working on damage control, or I can hire someone to replace you. Your call."

"Danny." Peter said softly, "Maybe it is best that I go." He suggested, "Being here, and you, and all of this..." He gestured around the mansion, "This was never going to be forever. If I leave now, I can avoid the heat. Maybe you can too."

"No." He shook his head defiantly, "You're not leaving until...until I make it right between us. Until we're back to what we used to be-"

"We can never go back to how we used to be, Danny!" He said in exasperation, "Not after everything that's happened!"

"Well, then, we can be the next best thing!" Danny argued, "We can at least try, Peter. I...I don't want to lose you again."

"Well, this is a sweet moment and everything..." Andrea interjected, "But can the melodramatics wait until later? We need to draw up NDAs, talk to security, brief anyone who spoke to Peter last night and..." She looked into Peter's honey eyes, "Who was it you killed?"

Peter looked at Danny, and Danny looked straight back at him. And within one simple look, all their messy unspoken emotions were finally acknowledged. They finally understood each other.

"It's not important." Danny said, and there was such a firmness in his voice that Andrea didn't ask again.

"Right." She sighed. "And how long were you in prison for?" She whipped out a pen and a small notepad which had been tucked into her pocket.

"From October 1989 until March 1995." Peter answered, "Five years and five months."

"And you were a minor? When you started your sentence?"

"Yes." He told her plainly, "That's why I didn't serve longer."

She jotted something down in her notepad, then shoved it back into her pocket, "Very well."

"What's gonna happen now?" He asked worriedly.

"Maybe nothing. The media might leave you alone." She shrugged, "But it isn't likely. You were photographed with two Hollywood A listers. People are going to want to find out who you are."

"And if they do?"

"I'll be here to help with damage control."

Danny smiled gratefully, "Andrea, you're a lifesaver-"

"It's my job." She cut him off, "Now, go shower, both of you. And please don't give me any more headaches until I've at least had my morning coffee."