Zac lay in bed, enjoying one of his favourite states of mind: That limbo time in the morning when you're neither awake nor asleep - your mind just meandering aimlessly from memory to memory, perhaps a light dream forming that you can influence and control instead of being whisked along by the preset "plot" that your subconscious constructed...

A smile appeared on his face as he remembered the previous night, and how sincerely happy Russell looked. Zac by his very nature was not considerate. It wasn't a conscious decision, and it was not as if he set out to hurt people - more like he was so extroverted that he spoke his mind before he even considered analysing what he was about to say, sometimes the most scathing remarks that he usually regretted later being uttered.

He was pleased that, for once, HE had actually made a difference to someone's life in a positive way, and it gave him a glowie feeling all through him.

He sighed pleasurably as real consciousness displaced sleep, and gradually became aware of his achingly full bladder and his five inch morning stiffie that was holding it all in.

Hearing the "thump thump thump" of feet running towards the bathroom, Zac unbashfully pulled his bedclothes back and ambled towards the bathroom, his boyhood stuck out proudly infront of him.

Ike was in a similar predicament, however the oldest brother was somewhat more concerned about other people's opinions of him. He was depressed. There was no other way to put it. When he was around his brothers, their exuberance tended to bring him out of his shell also. On stage it was different - the screaming fans had a preconceived idea of how he behaved and what he was like and for the most part never had the chance to find out otherwise.

The phone call to Andy had shattered him. He couldn't really blame him for looking elsewhere, but it still left a hole in his psyche that he was finding hard to come to terms with.

'Tay and Zac are so lucky...' he thought to himself as he got out of bed, doing his best to arrange his hardon into a less conspicuous position and trudged towards the bathroom. The sound of water running and nylon bristles against teeth greeted his ears, and he took up a stance infront of one of the urinals, nothing more than a polite "Hi," being exchanged between him and a few of the other lads in there. Some of them were laughing and joking, but the pressure of 'A' level modular exams was weighing heavily on their minds, their whole (usually frivolous) attitude to life suddenly being transformed into something a whole lot more critical.

Ike almost wished he were under the same pressure so they could associate with one another. This made him think - he had never actually taken an EXAM in his entire life, bar his driving test... Sure, his mum made them do tests, but never had he done anything official - no SATs, no IQ tests - hell, at the rate he was going he could be twenty-five and not have a single academic qualification. What if Hanson's success didn't last? What if some new kid band turned up that was more appealing than them? What then? "Celebrity" appearances on daytime chat shows, guest appearances in two-bit soaps, more Eggo commercials and cameos on South Park. This was not good...

Ike sighed and shook the last drip of piss from his dick and proceeded to wash his hands and brush his teeth before hauling himself up to school. At least he'd be out of the place this weekend... If only he could have Andy back...

The morning's walk had been less than demanding: the terrain being flat and our allotted time being nearly twice that required. Seeing as the pick-up time was fixed, there was no point in rushing at all. The morning was chilly but fresh and sunny and, as ever at the end of one of these events, spirits and self-respect were high.

We sat on the kerb of the car park designated as our pick up point, idly chatting about nothing at all, just enjoying the "we've done it" atmosphere. Life was just so good at these times - any worries were well and truly overridden by the feel-good factor provided by the achievement of having walked through the countryside "on our own" for a couple of days, and any differences between the members of the group - if they even existed - were also forgotten.

The end of our two-and-a-half day adventure was signaled by the filthy Transit van screeching round the corner at a very unhealthy angle, the smoke trail behind it something the Red Arrows would've been proud of.

It pulled up sharply, Gillie rolling down the window and grinning at us. "Still alive then?"

"Just about..."

"Good! Enjoy it Mr. Hanson?"

"Yeah man, that was cool!"

"I'm glad you think so! Your group seems to have faired the best anyway - none of the others are at their pick-up points yet. You may as well get in..."

Five rucksacks were hurled oh-so-carefully into the minibus and we took up roughly the same positions as we had done on the outbound journey. Tony looked distinctly isolated, so Tay tapped him on the shoulder and motioned for him to come and sit on the back seat with us. He grinned as we squashed up against each other, the usual uncomfortable feeling created by you wondering if you were sitting too close to someone for comfort completely absent.

The abused vehicle coughed into life, scrambled to find first gear then gazzelled across the car park in the vague direction of Derbyshire. Suddenly, the threadbare seats of the Transit became very, very comfortable when compared to the carrimats that we'd been lying on for the last couple of nights: Soon, we had all slipped back into a deep, contented sleep.

"FUCK!" yelled Zac as he picked himself up from the tarmac. He'd managed to quite convincingly trip over his own hockey stick again.

The Saturday morning game of roller hockey on the school car park had, supposedly, been blessed with a player who could out-skate anyone on the "field". Actually, he could. Only problem was that he could only do it WITHOUT his hockey stick, as it seemed to have a huge affinity for the wheels of his in-line skates.

Ike couldn't help but laugh as he leaned against one of the huge beech trees that surrounded the car park. Zac was so used to doing everything without thinking that now he had actually come across something that took a little effort on his part, he was getting as frustrated as hell. Ike didn't like to think of himself as malicious, but it WAS funny. He had an audience too, which did little more than to quite obviously add to his frustration.

Zac's salvation came in the form of the noisy arrival of our battered Transit hurtling into the car park, sending skaters leaping out of its path, bringing the game to a premature conclusion. Wanting to pre-empt the possibility of the game re-starting with him involved, Zac skated over to the Trannie and feigned interest in our return. We wearily dragged our rucksacks out after us as Zac did a very bad job at pretending to be interested in what we'd been up to. Tay read Zac like a book, grinned and lobbed his rucksack straight at his younger brother, causing him to go arse-up yet again.

Ike meandered over and was, in complete contrast to his younger brother, actually genuinely interested in what we'd been doing, the friendship between him and Taylor - even though Ike felt overshadowed by him sometimes - still well and truly cemented in the way only siblings know how.

We all enthusiastically recounted the experience, especially the part where Taylor "rocket-scientist-wannabe" Hanson made a concerted effort to be the first human to put a Primus stove into low earth orbit under its own power.

"Oh, Ike - this is Spider, A.K.A. Tony." said Tay, suddenly realising that the identity situation was very one-sided.

"Hi there," smiled Ike, managing to produce a warm, gentle smile as opposed to the slightly goofy one he wore usually. Tony positively grinned back and extended his hand, a move usually considered excessive by us lot - however, if I simply wanted to touch another person, perhaps that was as good a way as any to do it inconspicuously...

Zac was now back on his feet and ready to retaliate. "Hey Tay, I'm glad you didn't spend TOO much time in the shower... I don't know what the flies'd be doing without you!"

Tay looked at me with a raised eyebrow, then sprinted at Zac.

"Oh fuck," he yelled as he desperately tried to avoid his brother, turning round and skating at top speed away from him. For all of five metres, Zac looked like he may actually evade capture, but alas his discarded hockey stick was destined to piss on his strawberries. Once again, Zac's blades stopped dead as the top half of his body continued oblivious.

Tay pounced on the once again spread-eagled Zac and got him in a headlock, giving his head a damn good scrubbing with his knuckles.

"Gerroff me you freak!"

"Not until take it back!"

Tay smiled inwardly as he heard the all to familiar dialogue begin between him and Zac for the umpteenth time.

I, on the other hand, smiled outwardly along with Jamie and Triv as we were presented with the wonderful sight of their two tight backsides waving and jumping infront of us. Had there been fewer people around, my will power would've buckled and I'd have had to teach them both a "lesson" for fighting...

I was actually quite annoyed when a subtle nudge from Triv broke my train of lust over Tay's posterior, but nonetheless followed his gaze. Now THIS could be good - Ike and Tony seemed to be hitting it off rather well, Tony's usual eyes-to-the-ground character seemingly completely absent as he started at Ike, Hanson senior quite obviously returning his stare with equal intensity.

Tay gave Zac a final Billie-bop for good measure and leapt off of Zac, evading the guaranteed random swipe that always followed such sessions.

Our group plus Tay and Zac ambled over to the bothy to hand our borrowed kit back in, Zac "helping", Ike and Tony... well, just talking with each other.

After failing miserably to come up with an excuse other than Taylor blowing the fuck out of it, we were all charged the best part of a tenner and told to "piss off before you break anything else!".

The look on me Dad's face when he came to pick us up was one of bemusement, to say the least. Not only had the number of people he'd expected to be taking home increased by two (Gareth and Tony had decided to invite themselves along) but one of us had assorted cuts and grazes over his elbows and knees and the other two looked like they'd been dragged through multiple hedges backwards, forwards and every other way one gets dragged through a hedge.

He sighed, thanked the Lord that he didn't have a car that that he'd feel guilty about getting dirty, and motioned for us to get in with the oh-so-familiar "boys will be boys" look on his face.

I can swear that my parents would have got the part if they'd gone to the auditions for "The Brady Bunch" - just once in a while they could come out with what they thought were the most "hip" and "cool" statements: "So - do you guys have anything planned for this weekend?"

My dad never used the word "guys". "Lads" and "blokes", yes, but never "guys". It just didn't sound quite right.

"Not that I know of, Dad..."

"Well, I'm thinking of buying Kev's Defender off him."

"Kev as in Chatsworth Kev?"

Kevin Lauden was a gardener. Not just any gardener, mind you, but the head gardener of the Chatsworth Estate. Eight hundred acres of gardens, lakes, meadows, tracks and hilly terrain - a large proportion of which had been turned over just recently to the RAC rally for one of their stages.

"Yeah."

"How long are you there for?"

"A couple of hours, I'd have thought - plenty of time for you to go yomping!"

"Yomping?" asked Tay, slightly confused.

Please don't ask where the term "yomping" came from, I have absolutely no idea! Suffice it to say it was our word for Greenlaning, i.e. taking some form of 4x4 and charging through mud and undergrowth much for the same reasons as mountain-climbers seem to climb mountains: because it's there.

"Oh cool man! Do we get to drive?"

"If you're careful, yes," grinned my dad, who was looking for any excuse to part company with our aged Series III in favour of one of the later 'Defender' models, complete with the ride comfort that coil springs provide. The Discovery had obviously spoiled him.

"OK, your turn, Zac!"

"It's impossible! There is no way we can get up there! Ike just proved that!"

A forty degree muddy slope can seem a bit daunting, it's true, but it IS possible.

"You've driven a manual car before, right?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"He means stick shift..."

"Oh, yeah - Ike's truck,"

"Good - this is just the same, but remember you're in low box here, start off in third..."

"OK - hang on to your butts!" yelled Zac as he gripped the steering wheel and dumped the clutch. The BFGoodrich tyres did their job, sending four fountains of mud a good ten feet in the air and catapulted us forward towards the slope. About half way up, we began to loose traction and gently slowed to a halt, wheels still spinning unchecked.

"See? Now how the fuck do I get down from here?!"

"Just put it in reverse... That's it, and gently let out the clutch until it starts to bite... OK, now take your feet off all the pedals."

"WHAT??"

"Just do it."

"I can't touch the brake?"

"You can't touch the brake."

"Uh, OK, but it's your Dad's truck..."

Zac turned round as best he could, gritted his teeth and released the clutch and brake.

Gently and professionally, the car reversed steadily back down the hill, the engine-overrun keeping all wheels braked, but not locked so the vehicle was still under control.

"Cool! I never knew you could get an adrenaline rush at five miles an hour!!"

"OK, Tay's turn,"

I decided to give Tay a bit of an unfair advantage. As he sat in the driver's seat, I whispered a couple of tips into his ear.

Just like Zac, he selected third and charged at the hill, letting the momentum of his run-up get him to the halfway point. However, instead of following his instinct and gunning the engine like the other two had, he studiously followed my advice, and eased off, allowing the revs to drop. The further up we went, the slower the car was going until the engine was almost stalling, but he made it.

Tay turned round and grinned smugly at his brothers.

"Cheat," pouted Zac.

"Dean, umm, is it OK if we get out and walk for a while?" Asked Ike. Never one to get in the way of a budding friendship, I directed Tay to a spot that seemed less muddy than the rest of the field we were in and let them out.

"When d'you want picking up?"

"Oh, no hurry," grinned Tony. I smiled back and climbed back into the Landie.

As we sped of in a cloud of smoke and a shower of mud, Ike suddenly felt guilty.

"Uh, sorry man - I just remembered you've spent that last three days walking!"

"S'OK, I don't mind..."

They turned and began walking down the gentle gradient on the other side of the hill not saying a word, Ike ever so slightly infront of Tony. Then he stopped, Tony managing to walk straight into him.

"Uh, sorry ma..."

Ike grabbed his shoulders and looked straight into his eyes. "Umm Tony, uhh, D'you think... would it be pos..."

Tony leant forward and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, rather taking Ike by surprise. "I'll take that as a yes, then," he smiled. He pulled Tony to him, luxuriating in the feeling of closeness he had been longing after for so long.

Tony felt the same. He'd never consciously allowed himself to look at other guys before, and here he was in the arms of one - and it felt so right! Sure, he'd been hugged and kissed by girls before, but there seemed something so... so real about this, more sincere... Less innocent. He knew that the establishment would scowl upon the lifestyle he'd opened himself up to, but what the hell? He'd spent his whole life so far trying to please either his parents, his teachers or his peers, and had quite successfully managed not to on all three counts.

Now he was, quite literally, going to please himself. He wanted to go for it, so screw everyone else - he damn well would. If they didn't like it, tough. They weren't him.

Tony allowed his right hand to move down and squeeze Ike's arse cheek, and rested his head against his new found friend's.


On to Chapter Twenty-Three

Back to Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Index

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The Exchange is © 1999 by Dean Lidster. This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

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