May
1995

Peter returned to his motel that afternoon to find Roy waiting for him in reception. He was sitting on one of the broken plastic chairs, his knee bobbing up and down restlessly.

When his eyes met Peter's, he leapt up, a shy smile tugging at his lips, "Hey." Roy greeted him quietly, taking an apprehensive step towards Peter. "I remember you telling me that this is where you were staying." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

Peter offered him a soft smile, "I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again."

Roy shrugged helplessly, "It's harder than I thought - staying away from you."

Peter couldn't ignore the happiness that swelled in his chest. "C'mon." He led Roy through to the narrow corridor, walking in silence until he reached his room, "Excuse the mess." He murmured, pushing his key into the lock.

The bed was unmade, clothes scattered across the dirty carpet, and Peter's suitcase lay open and empty on the floor. He had never intended on staying this long. The room was chaotic, and Peter wished they could have had this conversation in Roy's flat instead. With his soft pillows and warm blankets and bright lamps and happy faces smiling down from picture frames. This room didn't bring him any comfort in the same way Roy's flat had - it was cold and dark and depressing.

"So," Roy perched on the end of the bed, "I did a lot of thinking. And I like you. A lot."

Peter gulped, tentatively sitting down beside him, "You do?"

Roy let out a shaky laugh, "Yeah. I tried not to. It's stupid to fall for someone who could leave at any minute." He sighed, "Your life is in England."

"I don't have a life." Peter hated how pathetic that sounded, but it was the truth. And he didn't want to be anything but truthful with Roy. Not after the lies and the betrayals he had already put him through.

Roy looked at him sadly, "What you did..." He took a deep breath, "It was terrible, but it... Well, it was a mistake. You were a kid."

Peter let out a sigh of relief. While everyone else saw Peter as a cold blooded killer, Roy saw him for the terrified kid that hid beneath. Because Roy was full of compassion and warmth, and Peter didn't deserve any of it. He was selfish of ever thinking that he did.

"And your friendship with Daniel Fox..." Roy continued, "I mean, that's... It's mental, Peter." He chuckled, "I haven't quite got my head around it - I told you I thought he was gorgeous." He groaned, "God, I'm so embarrassed."

Peter surprised himself when a laugh bubbled up his throat, "It's okay. Most people find him gorgeous."

Roy sighed, "Y'know, I only said that so you would know I was gay."

"Yeah, I know." Peter nodded, "You weren't very subtle."

"No." Roy laughed, "Subtlety's never been my strong suit."

"It's okay." Peter grinned, "It's what I like about you. You're direct. You know what you want."

Roy looked down at his lap, "Yeah." He hummed, "I have been pretty clear about what I want, haven't I?"

Peter's cheeks turned pink and he had to look away. This wasn't fair. Roy wasn't fair. Being so beautiful and kind and affectionate. Falling for him despite everything. Peter didn't deserve it. He almost wished Roy would cry and scream and tell him he was a terrible person. He wished Roy would storm out of here and never come back, never see Peter again. Because Peter was a monster. A murderer. A bad friend. A bad brother. A bad person.

He thought about Danny. About his hands and lips and hungry eyes. The nights they used to sleep side by side in his single bed, Danny's skin throbbing with bruises, Peter's body pressed up to his. There had been love there. Softness and sweetness and gentleness. But never more than love - never want or need or lust. Not like there had been earlier. Naked and sweating and breathless, tangled up beneath the sheets, making even more mistakes than Peter knew was possible.

Peter had done so many things wrong in his life. Roy was the only thing he had done right, though even that hadn't lasted long. He contemplated telling Roy to leave. To save himself. Save himself the pain and the heartache that came with falling for someone like Peter. Someone with evil beneath their skin, and darkness in their eyes.

But Peter was weak.

"I like you, too." He shifted a little closer, but didn't dare reach out. He needed Roy to make that move.

And sure enough, Roy leant forward to kiss him.

With Danny it had been all greedy resentful hands and hot angry lips. With Roy, it was soft and sweet and needy. It meant something. There was purpose. There was longing.

Roy pulled away first, forehead resting on Peter's, "I really don't want you to go home." He whispered.

"Then I won't." Peter mumbled back.

Roy smiled, hands gripping on to either side of Peter's face, "I don't want to keep you here-"

"I want to be here." Peter promised him, and it was half true. He didn't have a home in England anymore, because his home had scattered; Scott was in London, Danny was in LA, and Jenifer was in Wales. He had nothing to go back to.

Roy kissed him again, short and sweet, "I'm sorry." He said gently, "I'm sorry you can't touch me."

Peter frowned, pulling away so he could look into Roy's eyes, "Don't be sorry." He ordered softly, "Don't ever be sorry for that."

Roy ran his fingers down Peter's cheek, "Where have you been all this time, huh?"

Peter grinned, "Prison."

Roy chuckled, "Oh, that's right." He teased. And then he kissed him again.

It didn't bother Peter that Roy didn't want to be touched. Couldn't be touched. Not now, maybe not ever. Because if he had leant anything from today it was that sex was dangerous. Destructive and cruel and reckless. He was better off without it.

Or maybe it was Danny that he was better off without.