"Never have I ever had a girlfriend."

Montoya and Isabelle both looked at each other before taking a drink. They had been dating for a little while now.

Patric actually found it interesting that Jay had never had a girlfriend. He could see that there was some appreciation for the male figure from the way Jason tried to surreptitiously steal glances at him and knew the man mustn't be entirely straight, he just hadn't realized that Jason was gay.

And... Jay was once again looking at Patric.

He was thinking back to that girl that had been in his yard with Patric the other day. The girl who brought him that bag. He thought for sure she was his girlfriend.

"Uh... no, gross," Patric made a face at what Jason apparently said aloud. Shit everyone was looking at him like he was mental. "That was Mia, my sister."

Okay, from Patric's perspective that was a pretty gross insinuation but how was Jay supposed to know? The two looked absolutely nothing alike. He offered a feeble, "My bad," in way of apologizing.

So... the guy didn't have a girlfriend and Jason already knew he didn't have a boyfriend. That meant Patric was single and available.

Well, as available as a murder suspect could be, he guessed.

Jay hated to admit it but Patric was really his type. To make matters worse (better?) the kid was turning out to not be the jerk that Jason thought him to be. The only thing that still had Jay hesitant was how rich Patric was. The kid came from a family that handed him anything his little heart desired. And Jay couldn't do that for Patric, nor would he want to.

"So, Gabby and Izzy," Sophie began, "You're officially going out then?"

There was a labored sigh from Isabelle as if it physically pained her to respond to that question.

"Yes," she begrudgingly admitted.

"Don't say it like that snookums," Montoya leered making a kissy face. "You know you want me."

"Like the plague," Isabelle deadpanned.

"Never have I ever," Isabelle purred lasciviously, "been beaten for a reason other than pleasure."

Jason and Montoya both took a drink cursing about fucking violent suspects as they did so. That had been Isabelle's goal. To get them both to drink. She wanted Montoya to get completely sloshed and Jay, Jay needed to loosen up. He'd been glaring at Patric all night for one reason or another and the boy had been an absolute gem so far.

Then, to her surprise, Patric hesitantly raised his can and took a gulp of the amber liquid.

"Patric?" Sophie questioned concern evident in her voice.

"I... uh, I don't want to talk about it," he spoke quietly shifting his gaze to look anywhere but at the four pairs of eyes now staring at him intently.

"Well, I wanna hear about it," Montoya took a large swig of her beer.

Patric seemed to retreat into himself and Jason almost told him he didn't have to say anything when he answered, "It was my father."

And he wouldn't offer anything else on the matter.

"Alright, I got one that I don't think I've ever said before. Never have I ever lived on the streets," Montoya smirked looking to Isabelle who, she knew, had this brief time in between homes as a child.

Sure enough, she raised her can and took a drink glaring daggers at her girlfriend as she did so. But so did Patric.

Standing up as he downed the rest of his can Patric said, "It was either stay home with an abusive father or live on the streets." He glared at the wall across the room so intensely Montoya worried her house might burn down. "I'm done playing this game. I'm gonna turn in."

Then he stomped away.

"Nice going Montoya," Jason accused dully.

"Hey, how was I supposed to know he lived on the streets?" She defended herself quickly.

"You weren't," Sophie spoke quietly.

"Sophie, why do I get the feeling you know something the rest of us don't," Jay asked trying to get her to spill her gutz.

"I do," she shrugged.

"Want to share with the class?"

"Patric plays the obedient rich man's child in front of the media," Jay scoffed at the word obedient. Maybe typical would have been a better choice. The gay Oliver Queen. "But his father wasn't very supportive when he found out his son was gay. He'd beat him. And nobody did anything to stop it. So Patric started coming home less and less. He started making friends with people on the street and decided to help out in a soup kitchen every day so his friends would get a meal cooked with love. His father never stopped him from working there because it looked good on him to have a son who was such a philanthropist."

"Fuck," Jason swore.

"You said it, boss," Montoya agrees letting out a loud belch.

"Eight point five," Isabelle judged immediately causing Montoya to whine.

"Why do you know that?" Jason asked.

"You'd be surprised what speculations you can find on the internet," Sophie chimed with a grin. At the disbelieving faces her grin faltered before she admitted. "He told me."

"Jesus, Soph," Jay ran a frustrated hand through his hair, "and you didn't think this was something we needed to know?"

"No. It doesn't relate to our case in any way," Sophie said evenly.

But Jay had needed to know that. He had treated Patric horribly. How would he ever be able to even ask for forgiveness? Jason swore under his breath. "I'll be outside rethinking my entire life."

                                                            ~GP~

Okay, so when Patric said he was turning in for the night all those hours ago he'd imagined he'd be sleeping. But sleep eluded him. He hadn't gotten so much as a wink. And there was this infernal thud, thud, thud coming from outside.

He sat in bed listening to the sound of something hitting the side of the house.

Thud.

Each

Thud.

Hit

Thud.

Agitating

Thud.

Him

Thud.

Further

Thud.

"That's it," he shot out of bed. He was going to see who was throwing what and give them a piece of his sleep deprived mind.

With newfound determination he made his way to the front door. Patric saw right away who the perpetrator was. There was Jason throwing what looked to be a tennis ball against the side of Montoya's house.

No sooner had the ball been caught than Jay was whipping it at the house again.

Patric watched from his position at the front door. After a half dozen or so throws he decided to make his presence known to the other man.

"You know, for how much you drank, your coordination is remarkable," he complimented continuing to watch the man in action.

Jay's response was a low growl. Maybe if he didn't engage in conversation the person plaguing his thoughts would leave.

Patric rolled his eyes. Great, they were back to nonverbal communication again, "You know, no matter how many times you throw that, it's always gonna come back the same way."

Jay growled and chucked the ball at Patric who yelped in surprise.

Guess he was wrong.

While Patric had been distracted by the attacking tennis ball Jason had closed the distance between them. Patric yelped again when Jay pushed him, sending him crashing into the door roughly. "Why are toy so infuriating?" the man all but shouted. Suddenly the tennis ball was looking a lot less hostile in Patric's eyes.

"So confusing," Jason whispered staring at Patric like he was some kind of puzzle that was missing vital pieces.

A puzzle he'd never figure out.

"I'm sorry?" Patric was confused. What was Jay doing? What had he done to make Jay do this? He thought they were past all this hostile bullshit.

Jason took a deep ragged breath in before going off on a tirade. "You're supposed to be this snobbish rich boy who only cares about himself and vandalizes public property, "Here Jay cast an accusatory glare at the boy, "then I find out you're actually a good Samaritan who spends more time than not sleeping on the streets with the homeless people you help. How am I supposed to put a man who's so good in jail?"

Sometime during his mini-rant Jason had gotten closer to the boy. So close, in fact, that he had successfully pinned Patric to the door. He looked into the other man's eyes and found them staring at him in something akin to shock. Those long lashes and big grey eyes adding to the whole innocent look this kid had going for him.

Then Jason turned his focus to those lips. Pouty and slightly opened. God, did he want to hiss them.

Hell, who was going to stop him? Certainly not Patric. He was still gaping at the man like a fish.

Jason closed the distance between them and kissed him.