Ethan broke off mid-arpeggio and coughed into his shoulder. After battling a week with a headcold, it seemed he was doomed to another course of bronchitis. He'd woken up that morning with an all too familiar tightness in his chest; it happened almost every year. I don't need this right now, he thought as he caught his breath. The big Jazz Festival was just over a week away, with the winter band concert a week after that.

Closing his eyes against the bright lights of the practice room, Ethan let himself relax for a few minutes. Ethan knew he should be resting; the sooner he got some rest, the sooner he'd feel better. But he had too much to do, and too little time to do it with. Besides the exam in his French class that was two days away, he was prepping the program for the Jazz Festival. He also had a solo piece to prepare for a convocation performance requirement, along with a piano piece for the Symphonic Band that he was supposed to be working on with Paul.

The stage was too small for two pianos, and the piece had two separate parts, so Ethan and Paul had been working on playing both parts on one bench. It was a difficult part; in rehearsals, they had only been successful in tangling their fingers together, which made Ethan smile, Paul blush, and Lara smother her giggles in the front row when she saw Paul's expression.

Ethan took as big a breath as he thought he could manage without too much pain before turning back to his music. But his fingers refused to cooperate with his muzzy thoughts, and he found his attention drifting to the young man he was supposed to be practicing with. He'd been assigned to be Paul's accompanist the previous semester, and Ethan had really gotten to know the blonde trumpet player. Paul was quiet, but in the course of the semester, Ethan had started to get Paul to open up a bit, especially away from the rest of their group.

Paul was a serious young man, focused on succeeding on whatever he put his mind to. He had a gentle sense of humor that balanced Ethan's more boisterous one. Since the completion of Paul's own convocation performance, for which Ethan had accompanied him, they'd gone on a few "sort of dates", mostly to movies or concerts, and sometimes with the rest of the group that had formed during their first days at the University. Ethan tried not to hope too much, but part of him longed to take things a step further. But always, Lara's words rang in his ears � take things slow and let Paul come to a decision in his own time.

But the spring dance was coming up. If nothing else, Ethan figured they'd go in a group with Lara and Ralph, and Aimee.

Ethan was jarred out of his thoughts by a cough that made his chest burn, and a slim figure stepping through the door. Ethan saw Lara out of the corner of his eye; if she'd knocked, he wouldn't have heard it anyway.

"Well," the redhead said, propping herself up against the wall. "That certainly sounds healthy." Lara's knee length skirt was wrinkled and her hair was twisted back out of her face and held in a bun with a couple of ball point pens. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Ethan wheezed. "Just getting over a cold," he lied.

"Right. You look like shit." The smile took the sting out of the words.

"Thanks. You come in here to insult me, or did you need something?" Ethan was starting to get grumpy.

Lara mumbled something under her breath, and all Ethan caught was "men" and "babies". "Kenobi called the office. Paul's mom just called so he's going to be late." Barefoot, Lara arched her feet and stretched her legs.

"Okay. Sorry for snipping at you." Ethan swiveled around on the bench. "Why are you still here?"

"Working on Jazz Festival," Lara answered while stretching her arms up over head, baring her pierced belly button. "Mel's got me training to take it over next year."

"Didn't they do that with Tour, too?" Ethan asked. He was glad for the diversion Lara was providing.

"Yup. With Jill and Mel graduating this year, and Anna doing her senior project and graduating in December, they're grooming me to be the new Band Queen."

"All hail the Queen," Ethan laughed, then broke off to cough again, digging tissue out of his pocket. He didn't notice that Lara had moved until her cool palm pressed against his forehead. He pulled away, catching his breath.

"I think you're running a fever," Lara said softly, resting her hand on Ethan's shoulder. "Just a cold?"

"When did you turn into my mother?" Ethan grumped. He supposed the effect was somewhat lessened by the fact that he was having problems breathing, which was confirmed when Lara sat down on the bench next to him.

"Since you apparently need one." She stuck her tongue out at him with a smile.

"Do not," Ethan pouted. He couldn't remember the last time his own mother could have been bothered to see how he was doing.

"Sure." Lara didn't sound convinced. "Why don't you go home and get some rest? Paul will understand."

"I have some other stuff to work on, still. Jazz Fest next week, and convo and winter concert the next week," Ethan said. "I'm so not ready."

"Ethan," Lara said gently. "Taking one night off to get some rest isn't going to hurt your performance. It'll probably make it better."

"I'll think about it," Ethan conceded.

"Good." Lara grinned and rose. "Cause I'd hate to pull rank and go over your head."

"To whom?" Ethan felt a smile tug at his lips.

"Paul."

Ethan winced. Paul, among other things, cared very deeply for his friends, and if Lara told him Ethan was trying to hide that he wasn't feeling well, Paul might very well take it personally. Especially since Ethan had caught Paul's cold. "That's playing dirty," he whined.

"No one ever accused me of being sweetness and light." Lara grinned. "Feel better. See you tomorrow."

"Sure. Thanks." Ethan glanced at his watch as the door closed behind Lara. It was already pretty late; Paul was supposed to have met him a half hour ago. He'd be another half hour, at the very least, knowing the kinds of conversations Paul's mom liked to get into.

With slow, tired movements, Ethan gathered his belongings. On his way out of the practice room, he switched off the lights. He slung his pack over his shoulder and walked out into the drizzle. He hurried as much as he felt capable, weariness sucking at him. He just wanted to lie down. Ethan slipped into his building behind someone else, saving him the effort of digging out his key card.

Ethan paused at the door to the second floor. Paul lived one flight up. Slowly, he began to climb one more flight. He stopped at the top floor, his breath catching in his throat, chest tightening. The halls were quiet, most of the residents studying behind closed doors. Quiet hours were close, and most people settled down well before the official start time. Ethan let the quiet wash over him as he struggled to catch his breath before starting down the hallway.

Paul's door was closed, and Ethan could hear soft murmurs from within. Using the pen attached to the dry erase board, Ethan scrawled a note for the trumpet player, canceling their practice session and promising to reschedule. He'd try to remember to send Paul an e-mail.

Ethan made his way back down the stairs to his room. The door was unlocked, but the room was empty, only the soft glow of Ralph's monitor and the street lights illuminating the space. His roommate was close by, then. Ethan carelessly dropped his bag into his desk chair. He didn't bother to switch on any lights as he dug out a pair of sweats and discarded his clothes into a growing pile on the floor.

He set his alarm for a few hours later; Ralph was very much a night owl, and Ethan still had studying to do. He scrawled a note on his own door, letting his roommate know he was sleeping before crawling into bed and falling asleep almost immediately.

Ethan woke some time later, coughing - well past the time his alarm was supposed to have gone off. Looking around, there was no sign of Ralph. Feeling minutely better, Ethan sat up and spied something on his desk. Curious, he eased himself to the floor, hissing at the chill of the tile on his bare feet. Under a bottle of ibuprofen, a bag of cough drops, and a bottle of water next to a few tea bags was a note. He smiled as he read the written dialogue.

Ethan grinned. Paul was painfully shy, or had appeared so when they'd first met. But once Ethan had gotten to know him better, he understood that Paul was careful in his relationships, that he guarded his emotions and his heart. And once he did accept a friend, as Ethan was learning, he looked out for them, in his own quiet way. Ethan was sure that the trumpet player had switched off his alarm clock under Lara's approving eye, but of his own volition.

And when he saw the door open out of the corner of his eye while he sank into his empty desk chair as coughs made his chest feel tight, he knew before he saw him that it was Paul.

"Hey," Paul said softly, closing the door behind him. "I didn't think you'd be awake. How do you feel?" He set Ethan's bag on the floor in front of his dresser.

Ethan cleared his throat. "I feel like crap."

Paul smiled slightly. "I brought your books back. I figured you'd be up in a couple hours."

"Thanks," Ethan said, hoarse.

"Do you need anything?" Paul moved to stand behind Ethan placing his hands on Ethan's shoulders.

Ethan leaned into the touch slightly. Paul wasn't usually given to impromptu physical contact. "Just sleep," he said. Paul's fingers felt cool and sure against his bare shoulders. "This happens just about every year."

"Okay." Paul took a step back, his fingers brushing a trail against Ethan's skin as he moved. "Feel better. Call me if you need anything. I think Ken's moved into the lab, so don't worry about waking anyone up."

Ethan smiled. "I will. Thanks."

"Sure." Paul turned to the door. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before letting himself out.

Ethan watched Paul go. His shoulders still tingled slightly where Paul's fingers had rested. He yawned and shivered, chilly air leaking through the drafty windows. He knew he should go back to bed; he was tired, but his mind was awake. He crossed back to the bed, scooping his pack up off the floor. He settled under the blankets and propped himself up after turning on the reading lamp by his bed. Maybe he could -

The thought was cut off before it was finished. Ethan laughed hoarsely.

Paul had kept his music books. Ethan hadn't had any intention of leaving to find a piano, but he could have worked out fingerings. Smiling, he mentally gave Paul credit for knowing him so well, and withdrew his French text book.

He was asleep within minutes.

**

Ethan popped a cough drop as he moved as quickly as he could to the music building. He had fallen asleep after his music theory class - he had skipped his French class to go back to bed. he'd felt horrible when he'd woken up, and when he'd shown up for class, Lara had all but threatened to physically drag him back to bed. She gave up when he'd promised to do just that.

He parked himself on the piano bench just as Doc B sauntered in. The cacophony didn't die down as Doc took roll. Ethan could hear everyone's distinctive warm-ups and the soft chatter of conversation. He tried to catch Paul's eye, but the blonde was wrapped up in a conversation with his section.

Giving up for the moment, Ethan dug his music out of his pack. They only had two more working rehearsals before the guest artist arrived for the Jazz Festival. Ethan was grateful that there was a weekend between the two. Hopefully, he could shake most of the worst of the bronchitis before then.

�Alright!� Doc called out as he clapped his hands once, loudly.

Ethan swiveled on the bench to face the director, who was settling down on his stool.

�We have today's rehearsal, Tuesday, and then we hit with the artist on Friday. Don�t forget we�re switching around Wind Ensemble and Jazz next week, so don�t come here on Thursday.� A couple people laughed. �Lara will be coming by later to go over some last minute things, so we�ll do the rest of the announcements then. Put up Chart No. 1.�

There was a general shuffling as everyone found the appropriate music. Their guest artists wasn�t too creative in naming his charts, Ethan mused as he found his hand-written manuscript of Chart No. 1 and propped it up on the piano.

�Who�s up for solo space?� Doc asked. Hands went up. �Byron, then Jose, then, Paul.� He made a note. �Anyone else?�

Ethan normally would have jumped at the chance, but he just didn�t feel well enough to improvise. The cough drop seemed to be working for the moment, but his chest was still tight and his head ached.

�A�one,� Doc started counting off. �A�two, a�on two three -�

Ethan nailed the six note pickup and winced slightly at the wall of sound that came from the band. The tune was, as it�s title would suggest, an opener, loud and moderately fast, intended to get the audience into the mood in one foul swoop. As he played along, Ethan willed the painkillers he�d taken to work faster.

When they reached the solo section, Ethan relaxed minutely. The volume dropped as Byron easily slid into the first solo, keeping the sounds of his tenor sax soft and mellow, in stark contrast to the rest of the tune. Ethan was grateful; Byron sat right next to him. After a semester, Ethan was at the point where he knew the soloists, was able to predict what they would do. But he felt himself concentrating on Byron's solo, having to focus to anticipate and keep up.

Jose�s solo moved along with no problems. Ethan didn�t have to work through his muzzy thoughts to keep up with him; Jose�s solos generally went all the same with very little creativity if he had an idea he liked. Bud, the bass player, filled in the gaps that Ethan missed.

But when Paul�s solo began, Ethan had a different kind of ease following along. Supporting Paul seemed so easy � they just clicked. Ethan had never tried to explain or understand it, he just went with it. He had to admit, he liked it, the ease of being able to communicate through music so fluently with another person.

They came out of the solo section and Ethan promptly lost his place as he started to cough. He recovered quickly, but caught Paul�s concerned eye before the blonde diverted his attention to his own music. Bud called out a measure number, and Ethan jumped back in, swallowing convulsively against the urge to cough. He managed to hold back until just before the end of the tune �

�You are not allowed to get sick,� Doc B said sternly after the tune ended, minus the piano solo that echoed the pickup at the beginning.

�Yes, sir,� Ethan croaked to the laughter of the rest of the band.

Doc winked and stepped back behind his podium, shuffling through the charts.

Ethan looked up and saw Paul staring at him with an eyebrow raised in question. Ethan smiled tiredly, coughed once more, and dug a cough drop from his pocket as Doc called the next tune.

**

By the end of the ninety minute rehearsal, Ethan was thoroughly exhausted.

�Are you going to make it?� Doc B asked while the band packed it in.

�Yeah,� Ethan said. �I�ll be good by Friday.�

�Get some rest.� Doc clapped him on the shoulder and moved off to answer questions.

Ethan packed up his things. Normally, he would head off to a practice room; he had a standing reservation in one of the rooms every night when band rehearsal was over. But he really just wanted to go back to bed.

�Dinner?� Paul appeared at his elbow.

Ethan wasn�t really hungry, and he started to decline. �I�m not-�

"That wasn't an offer," Paul said softly with a slight grin. "You're coming to dinner with Lara and me."

Ethan turned slightly and coughed into his shoulder. "Really, Paul," he said after he recovered. "I just want to go back to bed."

Paul seemed to consider for a moment. "You need to eat something," he said firmly. "It's Thursday," he sing-songed. "They're serving grilled cheese and tomato soup." Paul smiled. "Come on. You might feel a little better after you eat something, and then you can go back to bed."

Grilled cheese and tomato soup were one of Ethan's favorite foods. Eating something couldn't really hurt. And even though he felt miserable, spending more time with Paul was never anything Ethan would willingly pass on. "Alright," he gave in.

"Good." Paul smiled. "Lara's waiting in the office. I'm gonna go stash my stuff."

"I'll meet you in the office," Ethan replied, dragging himself off the bench.

"Kay." Paul headed off toward the instrument storage room and Ethan hefted his bag and trudged toward the office Lara shared with the rest of the band staff and the snobs from the choir leadership.

"Sit," Lara ordered as soon as Ethan stepped into the space. "You okay?" she asked as Ethan sank into the chair she abandoned.

"No," he grunted, letting his eyes fall closed. He could hear her moving around, making notes, and talking to herself softly. He knew she had a lot of work to do, and from the sounds of things, after a quick dinner she had to be back to help Mel put some things together. Noise faded after a moment.

"Ethan?"

He felt his shoulder being shaken gently. "Hm?"

"You don't want to sleep here." There was laughter in Paul's voice. "C'mon, let's get you home."

Ethan cracked open his eyes. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Yup," Lara said.

"Oh." He had no other response to that.

Lara and Paul both laughed. "Come on," Paul said again, holding out his hand for Ethan to take.

Ethan took it and let himself be helped up. Lara took his bag, but Paul didn't let go of his hand, even as they ventured out of the office. The building was quiet; most of the students bailed right after rehearsal ended to make it to dinner. Paul's hand was warm in Ethan's, and Ethan found himself leaning onto the shorter man slightly. Paul didn't pull away, and Ethan was surprised when Paul moved closer.

Lara let them into their building. "What about dinner?" Ethan asked as they mounted the stairs to the second floor.

"If you think you can keep from falling asleep on your plate," Paul started with a smile.

Ethan laughed, which dissolved into coughing before he caught his breath. He dug his key out of his pocket when he found the door locked. Ralph must have left for dinner.

"Sleep," Paul ordered, releasing his hand finally. "We need you healthy."

Ethan smiled. "Yes, sir."

"Besides," Lara chimed in, dropping his bag onto his desk chair. "You're no fun like this."

Ethan found the spirit to stick his tongue out at her, making her laugh. "Feel better," she said as she passed him by. Ethan saw Paul nod slightly toward the door and Lara showed herself out, probably to cool her heels in the hall, or to quickly change her clothes in her room next door.

"You'll be okay?" Paul asked as Ethan climbed atop his bed.

"Yeah." He yawned. "I just need to sleep."

"Okay," Paul answered gently. "I'll see if I can't sneak something out of the dining hall for you. "

"Thanks," Ethan said, feeling sleep creep over him again already. His eyes drooped closed and he could hear Paul laughing softly. Ethan felt cool fingers against his forehead.

"I'll come by later," Paul said softly. "Get some rest."

Ethan managed to catch Paul's hand before he moved away. "Thank you," he whispered.

Paul squeezed his hand gently. "Anytime."

**

Ethan slept most of the weekend. He begged off his French exam and the Professor gave him the option to make it up within the week. Doc B let him out of a crucial rehearsal that same day, allowing him to pretty much stay in bed. Sleep didn't come easy once the cough firmly settled into his chest, but cough syrup helped. Paul had made the effort to stop by and keep an eye on him; he had run a mild fever for most of the weekend and just generally felt like crap. But Paul kept him company, even just using his desk to do homework while he slept. Ethan was concerned that Paul might get sick again from spending so much time with him, but when he brought it up, Paul brushed it off. By Sunday night, he had felt well enough to spend some time in a practice room, though much less than normal.

Three days of Paul-enforced bed rest made Ethan really anxious to get up and out Monday morning. He made it to his classes, and even had time for a quick lunch before stealing one of the empty practice rooms. It had been several days since he'd done anything close to his normal practice, and it felt good to be back behind the keyboard and not feeling like he was going to fall asleep atop the keys.

He practiced right up until he had to help set up the hall for rehearsal. Though he felt rusty and unprepared for the string of performances he had coming up, most of what he had worked on sounded good to his own ears. Maybe Lara had been right, and the break was good for him.

"Hey," Lara greeted as she stepped out of the office. She was wearing, oddly enough to Ethan's eyes, jeans and a baggy sweatshirt and running shoes. He was so used to seeing her in skirts or slacks. "Feeling better?"

"Yup," he said, only to have his reply punctuated by a couple deep coughs. "Well," he grinned. "Mostly."

"Good," Lara said. "Do me a favor? Are you headed to the hall?"

"Yeah. What do you need?"

"Can you hang this for me?" She handed him a sign up list several pages long littered with blank spaces. "Just tape it to the board. I'll take care of the rest later."

"Sure." He took the paper from her and glanced down at it. Jazz Fest sign ups. Every person in the band had to donate at least two hours. He had a feeling that he, Ralph, and Paul might get talked into taking extra shifts if people didn't fill out the list. "No problem."

"Thanks." Lara yawned. "I'll see you in a bit."

"Later." He watched her duck back into the office. He continued on down to the hall. The chairs and stands were set up, so Stu was around somewhere. Ethan taped Lara's pages to the white board then put his stuff down in the corner near where the tympani sat and started pulling equipment out of the percussion closet.

Other band members started to trickle in as the rehearsal time approached. Slowly the sounds of instruments began to fill the hall. Lara rushed in once, then back out again, barely pausing. Ethan was getting everything set when Paul came in.

"Hey," the blonde said after setting his stuff in his seat. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," Ethan replied honestly. "Thanks," he said softly. "For this weekend."

Paul blushed faintly. "No problem."

Ethan reached out and casually brushed Paul's fingers with his own, and Paul's blush deepened. "I know this week is crazy, but, maybe we could go out for dinner or something � take a break?"

"It's super crazy," Paul countered. "And I'd like to, but I have two exams this week, and a paper due," he said softly. "But maybe we can go somewhere that we can study?"

"Sure," Ethan said. "We can think of something." He coughed.

"If you're feeling better," Paul stipulated with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah," Ethan mocked.

Paul smiled and moved off to his stuff. Ethan grinned and found his music folder, getting things ready. About five minutes before rehearsal there was a mad dash of instrumentalists finding their chairs and blowing warm air into their horns. Lara came back in, scrawled her notes next to the sign up on the board, and left again.

Doc came in and settled on his podium and took roll while warm-ups finished and gradually died down. "Alright," he said, getting everyone's attention. Lara rushed in with her case slung over her shoulder, taking her seat in the center of the front row. Mel came in behind her, easing into her place in the French Horn section in the third row.

"Happy Monday, everyone," Doc said as he settled into his chair on the podium. "We've got a hectic week ahead of us. Jazz Festival is this weekend, so keep in mind that our rehearsal schedule has been changed. We're going to meet on Thursday this week, instead of Friday. I had considered canceling rehearsal, but with our performance next weekend, I decided against it. I might give you the Monday after the concert to make up for it."

Some of the upperclassmen muttered knowingly. "Right," Joel snorted at Ethan's right.

"We have a bunch of announcements and stuff, but we'll get to that when we take a break later. Adoramus Te," he called up.

Ethan had pre-tuned the tympani, expecting Doc to call that piece as the warm up.

The band was ready as Doc queued them up; they had memorized the piece for the Holiday Concert back in December and had played it in the dark from the balcony. Ethan made his entrances then sat back until Doc announced the next piece.

Ethan spent the following 45 minutes alternately scrambling to cover parts in the most percussion intensive piece, and being bored out of his mind while Doc worked with sections on problem spots. He quietly discussed problem spots with his section while Doc was busy, so that he felt like he was using the time efficiently.

"Okay, take a break," Doc said, settling back into his chair at the end of the piece. "Announcements. Mel, you start."

Mel stood up, adjusting her tee-shirt. "Jazz Festival is Saturday," she reminded everyone. "And we need everyone's help. If you haven't already signed up for your two hours, please do it now. If we find out you haven't signed up, you go on my Poo List and I'll extract the two hours from you somehow."

Ethan wondered how she managed to sound friendly and threatening at the same time.

"There are some ASCPU tickets still available in the Music Office. One per student with your id and they're free. Otherwise, you'll have to pay. Shawna has the price list up there."

"Anything else?" Doc asked.

"Not from me," Mel said, taking her seat.

"Lara?"

"Yeah," she said, standing. "Band Council is going to meet Wednesday. We have a bunch of stuff we need to do for Friday and Saturday. If you're not on Band Council and have the time to help out, we'd appreciate it. And remember to sign up for time for Jazz Fest." She sat back down.

"Okay. My turn." Doc changed his glasses and found his list of things to talk about. "Sign up for time at Jazz Fest." He winked. "Don't annoy these ladies." He pointed at Mel and Lara. "I will take the Poo List from Mel and make Tim go after everyone on it."

The band laughed. Tim was the one of the quietest people in the band, the euphonium player lurking in the back row.

"Seriously folks," Doc said. "Sign up for time. Paul, see me after rehearsal and say 'combo'." He looked over his list. "Ye-ah. That's all I have. Anything else?"

No one else had anything pressing, so rehearsal continued on for another 45 minutes.

Ethan helped his section put stuff away while the rest of the band packed up their instruments and crowded around Doc to talk with him. By the time they were finished the room had mostly cleared and Paul was sitting in the front row with Lara, waiting for Ethan.

"Combo," Paul said, as Ethan plopped himself down next to Lara, facing Doc.

"Yes." Doc stretched his legs out in front of him. "The guest artist has asked that we get a trumpet player in on the faculty combo. Dawn doesn't play jazz. Are you up to it?"

"Sure," Paul said. "What about rehearsal?"

"We'll rehearse with the guest artist after the Jazz rehearsal on Thursday. I have a lead sheet and changes for you, if you want them."

"Yes, please." Paul nodded.

Ethan wondered why Doc left things to the last minute like that. And why he'd asked Paul, and not one of the upperclassmen. Ethan knew Paul was good, was very good as a both a lead player and a soloist, but some of the others were just as good. But Doc knew best, he supposed.

"Follow me to my office then. Ethan, did you need something?" Doc stood and stepped off the podium.

"Nope. Just waiting for Paul and Lara."

"Lara?"

"Waiting for Paul," she said around a yawn.

"Alright," Doc said. "Follow me." He led off down the hall. Paul followed, but Ethan lagged behind to talk to Lara.

"You okay?" he asked. It was odd for her to not be bouncy bubbly.

"Yeah. Just tired. I was up most of the night working on a paper after talking with my mom."

"Are things okay?"

"Yeah." Lara shrugged. "She said she's having some problems with my dad, but I think it might just be a bit of them needing to adjust to having the house mostly to themselves. My brother is old enough he's not around a lot, between theatre, work, and school."

Ethan nodded. "That's probably likely."

"Yeah," Lara agreed. "But yeah, I'm okay. I just need to get some sleep."

"Well, we'll feed you," Ethan teased. "Then you can sleep." They paused outside Doc's office door while Paul ducked inside.

"That sounds strangely familiar," Lara grumped.

"It's apparently good advice," Ethan said. "But don't tell Paul," he stage whispered. "It'll go to his head."

"I heard that," Paul said as he stepped out of Doc's office, music in hand.

"Good," Ethan said with a smile. "Let's go eat."

**

"You know," Ethan said to Paul as they walked out of the rehearsal hall after Symphonic Band and Lara went streaking by without pausing. "We should take her out after Jazz Fest. Dinner, a show or something. What do you think? Girl could use a night out."

Paul smiled. "I think she'd like that. We could invite Ralph and make it a double date?"

Ethan blinked. He normally would have sprung something like that on the trumpet player, so having Paul be the one to bring up was a surprise. Ethan had hope that his desire for a deeper relationship wasn't one sided. "Sure. Let me see what I can find." Ethan's parents had season tickets to just about every theatre event in the Portland area, and they were hardly ever around to use them, so they had told Ethan, whenever he wanted them, to take advantage.

"You coming to dinner?" Paul asked as they reached the door.

"Naw. I'm going to go work on this stuff for a while. Want to be ready for tomorrow. Are we still on for later?" The guest artist was arriving the next day for Jazz Fest, and Ethan was still having problems with his solo piece for the convo that was less than a week away.

"Yeah. 8ish?" Paul shifted his bag on his shoulders.

"Sounds good. I'll see you later." Ethan smiled.

"Later," Paul said and pushed his way out of the heavy double doors.

Ethan ducked into "his" practice room. He got himself set up behind the keyboard and settled in, beginning with some drills he�d had memorized forever.

Warmed up, Ethan set out his solo piece � he was expected to have it perfected by his next lesson, which was the next morning. He closed his eyes to the sheet music, allowing memory to guide his fingers. He lost himself to the melody, allowing himself to feel the music he drew out of the piano. He hesitated only twice, instinct filling in the gap of memory.

He let the last note ring in the small practice room. It wasn�t until it faded that Ethan dared to release the breath he was holding. He�d long ago adopted the practice of the wind players, holding his breath in silence until the moment passed. He let his hands slide from the keyboard and into his lap. Mostly pleased with his performance, Ethan rolled his head around his shoulders, loosening up the tense muscles of his neck before reaching for his pencil and sheet music.

He found the two places where he had hesitated and was unsurprised to find they were pretty much the same. Ethan made his notations and played the couple measures several times before starting over from the beginning without mistake. Pleased, he did it twice more without making any errors. Just as he finished the last time through, Paul tapped on the door and let himself in.

�Hey,� Paul said, sliding his pack off his shoulder. �I swiped you a sandwich.� He handed over a napkin wrapped bundle.

"Thanks." Ethan took the sandwich and placed it on top of his bag. "What would I do without you?"

"Starve," Paul asserted with a grin.

Ethan rolled his eyes. "I eat."

Paul fixed him with a skeptical look as he slid onto the bench next to Ethan.

"Okay, okay," Ethan conceded with a sigh. "I'd probably starve without you and Lara hounding me all the time."

Paul laughed. "You make it sound like a fate worse then death."

"It is," Ethan moaned over-dramatically.

Paul snorted and Ethan laughed.

"Are we going to do this?" Ethan asked as he put up the dual piece for band.

"Yeah," Paul said, shifting slightly to better align himself.

Ethan focused on the music as they picked up where their parts began, trying to ignore the way Paul's outer thigh brushed against his own as they played. They did okay for awhile, managing the passages where their hands had to cross without any severe entanglements. Each time they made a mistake they stopped and marked it � Ethan caught a couple of errors that Paul made, and Paul was not hesitant to point out Ethan's.

They picked up again after stopping to mark a passage they both were having difficulties with. Paul shifted closer to Ethan, brushing Ethan's ankle lightly with his foot. Distracted momentarily, Ethan's right hand collided with Paul's left, and they some how ended up with their fingers intertwined. Ethan tried to extricate his fingers, only to find that Paul wasn't releasing him.

Ethan turned to face Paul, and found himself staring into the blonde's blue eyes. Time seemed to slow as Paul leaned in closer and their lips met. Paul's lips were warm and soft against his own. The kiss was brief and tender, no hint of rushing things, no pressure to go any further.

Ethan pulled away from the kiss.

�I�m sorry,� Paul stammered, blushing furiously. �I shouldn�t have-�

"Don't apologize," Ethan said softly, feeling a smile tug at his lips and squeezing Paul's fingers slightly. He fought the urge to cough. "I liked it."

"Yeah?" Paul smiled shyly.

"Yeah," Ethan breathed, and they kissed again.