After twenty minutes of rattling off the same spiel that he had been since hed decided to become a dancer, Archer figured that hed socialized enough for the rest of the night, and while his uncles, daddy, and grandpa turned their attention to mindlessly shrugging about how the past ten years had gone for each of them, he quietly slipped off of the couch. He batted his clean hands on his pants, looking down at them as if hed just smudged them with black ink, and then he frowned, raising his gaze up to his youngest cousin, who was lounging against the arm of the couch as she watched a cartoon through a pair of glazed, bored eyes. Sighing heavily, Archer took his leave from the living room, padding across the soft carpets and onto the cool tile as soon as he pushed through the kitchen door.

At the stove, his grandma and his père stood side by side, occasionally bumping elbows as one reached for the salt shaker or the other for the can opener. His grandma had started to boil a pot of water for the soup, while his père tossed a bowl of salad, coating each piece in a thin layer of dressing. "I cant believe its been fifteen years, either." His père was saying, slowly shaking his head from side to side. "Fifteen of the best years Ive ever had. I couldnt have asked for a more loving husband than Blaine." He looked at his stepmom, who was smirking at him. "But you and my dad are doing just as well. Ive never seen you looking better, Carole."

While Carole mussed with her hair, which was cut in a short, graying bob, Archer approached his père, holding his hand out to touch his arm. "Père? Could I help in the kitchen?"

"Of course." His père said cheerily, turning back to the salad that was in front of him as he tapped his bottom lip. "Oh... I know what you could do! Please take that loaf of bread from the bag and cut it into thin slices. Would you also butter the pieces?" As Archer walked away to grab the bag of French bread, which his père had kindly brought as a treat for the family, his père whirled back around to his stepmom. "You know, Archer is doing very well with his studies. He is an excellent dancer... but, even more than that, hes knowledgeable about many paintings... and things of the sky. He loves to observe. His dad and I are very proud of him. One day, he will be on Broadway. I just know it."

"I see no other future for him." His grandma agreed, making Archer frown as he stabbed the bread with a knife a little too harshly. "You and Blaine made anything he wanted to be possible to him. So, tell me how your aunt has been. Ive missed her conversations. Do you see her often?"

"Yes, we visit her nearly every weekend... at least, when Blaine gets a day off work." His père went on to say, and Archer was sure that other words were exchanged, but they were drowned out by his own thoughts, which swam around inside of his head, trying to stay afloat as the waves pounded them down.

Sawing through the tough layer of crust on the outside of the bread, Archer flicked his eyes to the side as a large, dark figure suddenly entered his peripheral vision, and he jumped when he realized that the biggest man he had ever seen had snuck over to him, as quiet as a cat preying on a mouse. He dropped the knife, which hit the cutting board with a clatter, and he watched a thin smile pull at the mans pale lips. "Oh... you know, you cant just creep up behind people!"

"Are you easily startled?" His sardonic voice asked, his thin hand reaching down for the bread that Archer had torn to shreds. He picked up a piece and set it on his tongue, chewing so slowly that Archer caught every time his cheek sucked in and his jaw shifted. "What... do you not like French bread? Just because you dont like something doesnt mean you have to mutilate it, the poor thing. This is good bread."

"So, you like something." Archer muttered under his breath, whipping back around to his work station and picking up his knife once more. "Are you trying to have a conversation with me now? You know, youre not very good at this."

The twisted smile didnt waver from his lips, "I think youre wrong. Youre not good at this because you never answered my question. At least, to me, thats very rude."

Archer thought through the last few words that had passed between them, and he realized that he had left a question unanswered, even though he didnt see much reason to give him anything to have over him. "Um... no. Not usually, at least. And I do like French bread. Its just... very difficult to cut."

Hunter stepped closer to him, holding out his long, bony hand, which Archer recoiled from as if it was a hissing snake that was about to snatch his fingers in its mouth. "Relax... Im not going to do anything to you. There are others present. Just give me the knife."

Archer stared blankly at the offered hand, "For what?"

A snarky noise puffed out of his mouth, which opened up very wide, "You ask too many questions."

"I asked one question!" Archer yelled at him, pressing the knife into his palm with too much force. "Or are questions not your thing, either?"

"You catch on quickly." Hunter chuckled, kicking him aside with one booted foot. "Move. Ill cut the bread for you."

Glaring up at his face that Archer had an urge to punch, he shuffled to the side, watching his nimble hands as he held the knife above the rest of the bread, then swiped through it in one clean cut. "You could have said please." He grumbled, hating the way that one remark drew another grin out of his face, which had previously been rumpled with concentration.

"I could have." He agreed, and Archer almost did swing a fist at him, only holding back because he knew that, if he damaged his good looks, all he would have left was a thick skull that was full of a rotten brain, and then no one would like him. As rude as he was, Archer didnt think he deserved to be completely alone, at least not yet.

After a few more slides of the knife, Hunter had seven pieces, perfectly portioned, laid out on the platter. He turned, giving Archer a winning smile that he almost grinned back at. Cocking his head down to the floor so Hunter couldnt see the satisfaction on his face, he crossed his arms over his chest, blocking him out when he slid a foot closer to him. "Thank you. How did you become so good with a knife?"

Hunter laughed again, a deep sound that rumbled from his chest. "I wouldnt call having the ability to cut bread being good with a knife." One winged brow arched, appearing above the edge of his sunglasses, which Archer didnt understand why he wore inside. "Sit by me at dinner." When Archer didnt immediately reply, he lowered his voice, quietly teasing, "I might have to butter it for you, too."

"Im perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Hunter." Archer scolded, picking up the plate and carrying it over to his père, who was openly gaping at him with a pair of huge eyes. He helplessly shrugged at him, then spun back around to Hunter, who he had sensed was standing right at his heel. As he expected, his face nearly hit a black wall, his eyes going straight to the middle of his broad chest. Scoffing, Archer shook his head, quickly backing away from him, "Dont you have someone else to annoy? I have to help make dinner."

When Archer took a few steps over to the pantry, Hunter walked backwards with him, blocking his pathway with his gigantic body. "Ive worn out all of my tricks on your cousin." Archer rolled his eyes, pressing his hand to his arm, which he couldnt wrap all of his fingers around, and he pushed him away.

As soon as his hand lifted to open the pantry door, a strong grip coiled around his wrist, so powerful that if he had wanted to, he could have snapped his arm in half. "Let go, please."

"I cant sacrifice any more of this dinner to your skills with your hands... or what you lack of them." Hunter grabbed the knob to the pantry door, pulling it shut once more, and then he leaned himself against it. "Whats with you and being so polite?" He scowled at him, making Archer roll his eyes up to the ceiling.

"If I wasnt polite, then I would be like you." He snapped at him, reaching up to his shoulder and giving a few shoves. "Hunter... please step out of the way."

"Ill step out of the way if youll let me make whatever it is youre trying to make... and will undoubtedly ruin."

Archer pushed his lips to one side of his face, "You cook?"

"Only when Im hungry." Hunter shrugged, giving Archer a funny smile when a breath of a giggle slipped through his teeth. "Whats so funny?"

Shaking his head, Archer patted Hunters hard shoulder, heaving with relief when he finally stepped to the side. He stretched on his toes, sorting through the containers of spices and sugars. "You say very strange things, Hunter."

He rested against the wall, bending down so he could be closer to Archer, whose head didnt reach the middle of his upper arm. "Only when Im trying to make sense." He muttered quietly, bringing one of his thighs forward so it brushed against Archers, which shuddered at the heat beneath that thick layer of rough fabric. Giving the ingredients over to Hunter and instructing him to stir them into the soup, Archer gasped when Hunter lowered his head, placing it just centimeters above his. His warm breath moved Archers thin curls, "Youre polite enough to always repay your debts?"

Archer nodded, "Yes... I always try to."

The smirk returned, stretching his wide mouth from ear to ear, "You do know that by letting me help you not destroy dinner, you owe me?"

He closed his eyes, avoiding looking at those thick lips, "I suppose I do. What is it you want?"

The dark head raised, as well as that single brow, "Do you want to know what I want for now? Or for later?" Lacking words because he wasnt certain that he knew what Hunter was talking about, Archer just shook his head, bringing a cruel laugh from Hunters lips. "What I want for now is for you to sit by me at dinner. If you do, Ill tell you what I want for later."

Swallowing, Archer stared at Hunters flexing back as he walked back over to the stove, slipping in between the two adults, who gazed at him as if he had just tamed a lion. His père instantly swung around to stare at him with those disbelieving eyes, so Archer cocked his head down to the floor, blushing. Knowing that his composure was gone as he wrung his sweaty hands in front of him and licked his lips every so often, he excused himself to the bathroom, where he stayed until his père called him back out, pleading with him to tell him what had happened back there, an answer that Archer could only give as another shake of his head.

Feeling like a child under the critical, disapproving eyes of his parents, Archer followed his père into the dining room, where the rest of the family was sat at the table, conversing through tight lips about how the trip had gone, and how they dreaded unpacking into their new house. As soon as he walked into the room, the conversation quieted down, and his père gently rubbed his back, as if he was trying to assure him that he could happily sit down with his family. It was as if hed done something wrong. Blinking at his daddy, he followed the line of people, starting with him, around the table, from his grandparents to his cousins, and then stopped on Hunter, who, much to his aggravation, had only one of the two open seats next to him. He was nearly tempted to slip in beside of his daddy, but knew that was a spot reserved for his père and his père alone.

Slumping his shoulders, he cowardly slunk around the table, throwing himself down beside of Hunter, who had refreshed himself with a new scent in the past hour that Archer had spent away from him. He lifted his head, sniffing in his direction, and made out the undeniable aroma of black coffee, bitter and tangy to the tongue, and the nose. He wondered how anyone could drink a mug of coffee in the early evening hours. Archer could only bring himself to stand it if it was sweetened, and early enough in the morning that he was still exhausted to the point that his mouth was completely numb. "Wont you be wide awake tonight?" He stupidly asked, unfairly putting himself in a conversation that hed, for some dumb reason, chosen to start with this intolerable, arrogant man.

"Taking over your kitchen duties exhausted me." He muttered sarcastically, a rough chuckle breaking out of him when Archer kicked him beneath the table. "Id rather you kick me than hit me, I suppose... considering how violent these hands of yours can be."

"Ive never wanted to slap anyone before." Archer told him, making him let out an inquisitive sound. "Its funny how a person can change when theyre around a complete ass." Hunter laughed again, idly reaching over for Archers plate and picking up his slice of bread. He grabbed the container of butter, scooping up a hunk with the tip of his knife. "So... how did my cousin meet you... and, more importantly, how did he like you?"

Hunter threw him that cocky grin that made Archer want to kill him. "I go to McKinley, too." Tilting his head at Archer, Hunter pressed his hand to his chest, making a face like he was wounded. "Are you saying there are unlikable things about me?"

"There are likable things about you." Archer explained, "But there are more things there to dislike."

"I cant tell whats more hurtful, your hands or that sharp tongue of yours." He joked, placing the buttered bread back on Archers plate. "Youre in the senior class, arent you?"

Archer bobbed his chin up and down, "Yes... but I am taking one class thats for juniors. An English class. I can speak a little better than I can write, but Im still not very good at either."

Something about that pleased Hunter, "Maybe well have it during the same hour. I could sit by you... make sure your pencils are all sharpened."

"If you dont shut up, Ill stab you with one of those pencils."

Hunter scrunched up his face, puckering his bottom lip as if he was pouting, "Can you at least threaten me with one of those knives? If youre going to kill me, why dont you do it in a way thats not laughable?"

Archer smirked at him, "Trust me, any way to kill you would be laughable." Glancing over at Hunter, who was still frowning at him, Archer suddenly felt his face heat up as he got a good look at the man beside of him. It was the first time hed been facing him that Archer didnt have to tilt his head all the way back in order to see the underneath of his jaw, at the very least. Besides what he couldnt see behind the darkened sunglasses, this man had a very gorgeous face, one that wasnt classically beautiful, and maybe a little too rough around the edges. But Archers heart still thumped at the sight of it.

Hunters face was very thin, his high cheekbones prominent, and his shaven jaw a straight line, pointing down to his hard chin. His skin was a dark tan, contrasting with his whitish blond locks, which were cut into short spikes on top of his head. His arched eyebrows were a much darker color, like that of the brown of wetted sand. A long, thin nose split his face down the middle, a very symmetrical nose that had a crease underneath it. His mouth was too wide for his narrow face, and his top lip was as full as the bottom one. His lips were a pale color, almost a lighter shade than his skin. There was something unusual about his appearance that Archer couldnt put his finger on, something breathtaking that he didnt see in other men.

Realizing that he was staring when Hunter quirked a corner of his mouth at him, Archer blushed furiously, whipping his face away. "Youre thinking something of me." His assuming tone prodded, making Archer frown, embarrassed by his unintentional reactions to Hunter, who he knew was only fooling with him. It wasnt like Archer to let himself be flustered over anyone, let alone a complete stranger. "Tell me what it is. Thats what I want for later. I want you to tell me what youre thinking about me."

Archers face turned as red as a cherry, and he gasped when rough fingers brushed over his cheek, trying to turn his face back to him. He refused, burying his chin in the collar of his shirt so Hunter couldnt move it. "I-Im not thinking anything. I dont k-know you. I cant make opinions so hastily."

Hunter laughed at that, amused by something that Archer certainly didnt think was so funny, "Youve been quick to judge me this entire night. Youve been noticing things about me. I also dont take well to lying, Archer. You will tell me what you think of me. I can promise you that." Widening his eyes, Archer started to whip around so he could put him back in his place, not daring to force Archer to tell him a single thing, but he remained frozen when those fingers tenderly caressed his chin. A stray curl bounced against his knuckles, and he turned his hand to that tendril of hair, catching it between his fingers. "You have curly hair."

Archer rapidly turned his chin up and down, his breathing picking up as Hunter stroked his calloused fingertips through the soft hair. "I-I do." As Hunter slid his hand around to Archers nape, feeling the fuzzy hairs that sprouted there, Archer turned his head down to the table, his eyes boring holes through the wood. "H-Hunter, what are you doing?"

Hunter placed one hand on Archers cheek, turning his head up to him. Archer helplessly stared at him, unable to see his eyes through his glasses, but knowing that they were holding his. "Your face is so round. You dont have much of a chin, button." His hand moved over Archers face, two of his fingers pinching Archers chin. He lifted Archers face higher, and Archer almost exploded with mortification when he bent closer, the tip of his nose nearly bumping his. "Youre beautiful, arent you?" He asked, as if he somehow couldnt come to that conclusion on his own.

"I-" Archer whispered, shuddering as Hunters face lowered a few inches more, their lashes tangling as his quivered in a series of blinks. "I dont know-"

Archer had nearly forgotten that there were others in this world, as he got lost in that hard face that could, at one second, be a condescending, twisted smirk, but, at others, be so intensely observant that Archer nearly felt stripped naked. It wasnt until his cousin barked Hunters name that Archer snapped out of his own world, which had, for a brief time, become Hunter. Hunter immediately let him go, whipping around to Dillon as a low snarl vibrated from deep inside of him. Panting, Archer fell back in his seat, staring at the back of his head in disbelief and bemusement. How could he have let himself go so easily to a stranger, when he wasnt even very good at making coherent sentences to people he didnt know?

Dinner went on in the thickest silence that Archer was sure that even Hunter couldnt have cut through with a knife. As soon as the last bite was taken, Archer excused himself and shoved away from the table, nearly running out of the room. Before he could even reach the bathroom, a dark figure appeared in front of him, snatching both of his arms in one strong fist, while the other clapped over his mouth. The form dragged him into the hallway, where they wouldnt be seen as their family picked up plates and slowly returned to the living room to continue their conversations about jobs and homes and families.

When they retreated far back enough into the hallway, Hunter let him go, but quickly shoved him against a wall and trapped him with his body before he could dart away. "Hunter-!" Archer yelped, squirming against him, but finding himself rendered helpless when Hunter seized both of his hands, one of his wide thighs nudging between his. "Are you crazy?"

"I think you already know the answer to that." Hunter whispered coolly in his ear, making Archer blink with alarm. "If you ever say that you dont know that youre beautiful again, I might just have to stab you with a knife." Before Archer could screech at him to let him go and never bother him again, a pair of hands delved into his curls, and a mouth smothered his, intruding, hard, and firm. Archers eyes blew out of proportion, and he struggled against Hunter, feeling his skin bruise as Hunter devoured him, sucking and nipping. Suddenly, though, the mouth softened, becoming warm on his, the aftertaste of coffee, mixed with the spice of the soup melting onto his tongue as Hunter licked his lips apart.

Whimpering softly, Archer went weak in Hunters grip, his trembling hands lifting to his powerful shoulders and clutching as if he would fall over if he let go of him. He tried to kiss Hunter back, but didnt know what to do with any part of his mouth, so he let Hunter do the work, pressing his tongue just past his small rows of teeth, and flicking the tip of his own with it. Hunter grunted lowly, pushing one more nudge onto Archers mouth before he raised his head, which was flushed with a reddish color. He left his body on top of Archers for another second, then turned his head to the side, and he peeled himself up.

As Hunter stood in front of him, his body bent in a protective and possessive stance, Archer realized how very little he wanted to be claimed by this spontaneous and dangerous stranger, and how angry he was that he had kissed him without asking for permission, or even his last name, first. Making a hissing sound at him, Archer raised one of his hands, smacking him across the cheek when he still had his head turned. As Hunter jerked back around to him, one of his hands lifting to the fingerprints left behind, Archer shoved on his chest, giving himself a gap to escape. "Dont you ever touch me like that again." He cried, pushing out of Hunters grip and scurrying out to the living room, where he was still under the suppressing gaze of his family, who seemed to know something, even though it wasnt possible.

Wildly shaking his head, Archer stormed over to the stairs, stomping up each one with his clenched fists swinging by his sides. When he got upstairs, he went into the bathroom and slammed the door behind himself, refusing the calls of anyone who came to ask about him, even his parents. Feeling betrayed, he irately cursed himself for letting himself get caught up in Hunters games, which was all this really could be. After all, some hunters didnt shoot to survive.