He was in the front yard, watering the limp flower beds that lined the fence. I walked up behind him and stood there on the footpath waiting for him to turn and see me. When he did he accidentally got me with the hose in his surprise.

"Hey!" I protested, shaking my head to get the water out of my eyes. "Watch where you're pointing that thing, eh?" The coldness tingled on my skin. It was a bloody hot day.

"Shit * sorry - you scared the crap outta me!" he exclaimed. I looked up to see him grinning like a loon. His eyes told me exactly how happy he was to see me. I looked at him for two seconds and wanted to kiss him senseless.

"Hi," I offered lamely. I tried not to stare too much. We *were* in his front yard, after all.

"Hey." He walked over towards the tap, jerking his head in invitation. "Come on in." Blue eyes cautioned me. "My folks are in the living room watching TV."

I nodded and entered the yard, closing the gate behind me. He finished watering the garden and then stripped off his shirt, turning the hose nozzle skyward to let the cool water rain down on him. I watched the silvery drops hit his bare skin, and I almost crash-tackled him on the spot.

He glanced over at me a grinned slightly. He knew exactly what was going through my mind. "Tease," I muttered darkly. He poked his tongue out and flicked the hose at me. I yelped in a very uncool way and jumped back. "Cut it out, Daz," I warned laughingly. He just grinned wider and flicked me again.

"Whatcha gonna do, hey?" he taunted, raising a brow. Black hair clung to his face, making his skin appear even paler. How the hell could he be a Queenslander and still be so fucking pale?

"Do you wanna find out?" I shot back. He shrugged, holding the hose negligently in one hand.

"Maybe." His lips quirked. "Are you game? Or are you scared of getting your feet wet?" A sweet smile spread over his face, distracting me for a single instant - and he let loose with the hose, spraying me with a quick blast of water full in the face.

I spluttered and coughed for a good five minutes while he laughed his head off, then fell silent as I slowly approached him, my hands itching to feel his silky skin. "You've done it now," I declared. "I'm afraid you're gonna have to pay for that, Dazza."

"I'm *so* scared," he retorted, still chuckling. "Come on, Jonesy. Do your worst."

I attacked without warning, rushing him and trying to wrest the hose from his grasp. He laughed madly, refusing to let go, forcing me to struggle against him. The feel of his body so close to me was doing dangerous things to my self-control - and he knew it, the bastard. If I stepped away I'd get a thorough soaking, and if I stayed put I was in for some serious torture. It was a no-win situation - and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

Or was there?

I thought quickly, hooking a foot behind his knee. We crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and garden hose, water spraying everywhere, soaking us both from head to foot. I peeled my wet shirt away from my chest and shook my head.

"Damn. Look what you've done."

"What *I've* done?" he asked indignantly. "You're the one who tripped us over!"

"Yeah, but you started it," I pointed out smugly. He watched in silence as I stripped the wet shirt off and attempted to wring it out. When I turned back I caught him checking me out and grinned.

"Fair's fair, Daz," I murmured. He looked at his own bare chest and smiled at me, a cheeky look on his face that made me want to alternately kiss him and strangle him. My gaze drifted to his lips, and my mouth began to water, my lips tingling. I *really* wanted to kiss him.

He cleared his throat, and I blinked. "Let's go inside," he said casually. His voice had dropped half an octave. "We can * dry off in my room, and * talk."

"Right. Talk," I agreed quickly, getting to my feet. "And maybe we could put on some loud music as well?

"He nodded. "Yeah. Loud music. To cover the sound of us * talking * and to block the noise from * from the TV."

"Uh-huh," I replied, staring at him again. He took a step towards me, then recovered himself and headed for the front door.

"Come on. We should get out of these wet clothes." A quick glance over his shoulder. "You can * borrow something of mine to wear till your clothes dry out. If you want to, that is."

I stumbled after him. My brain had gone on an early vacation. Me and Darren, alone together, in his bedroom. Oh, God.

//His parents are home, remember. Get control of yourself, Jones.//

Darren's voice floated back to me from inside the house. "Dan? Are you coming?"

//Not yet. But I'm not far off.// "Yeah, hang on." My voice sounded rusty. I quickly toed off my wet shoes and stacked them beside the door. The cool darkness of the house beckoned like the sweetness of temptation. I took a deep breath and went in.