x-posted to little_burrows and pbslash

[ferrynheit]

Title: Dirty Little Secret
Author: Ferryn
Pairing: Sucre/LJ (slash)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Being on the run was a lonely affair, until LJ started sleepwalking.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea and the writing style, and I remain poor.
Notes: It’s post-escape, and I have no idea where this idea came from, honestly. But I was all excited to be the first to write about this particular pairing, though I’m not actually sure that I’m the first. Just assuming. Thank you, zsuness and lissa_bear, for all of your wonderful help! And I do love all of your ideas and plan on implementing them into a sequel! We'll see more of Michael and Lincoln in it. (But seriously, if I hadn't ended this story the way I did, it NEVER would have ended!)
Word count: 5118

Being on the run was a lonely affair, until LJ started sleepwalking.

They were stopped at a three-bedroom apartment, something owned by a former business associate of Michael’s. The man in question was currently on an extended vacation. Michael knew where to find the spare key, but he hadn’t revealed it to anyone else. He had grabbed it secretly while the rest of the group sat in the stolen vehicle, a vehicle later dumped by Michael in another undisclosed location.

Sucre’s room faced the driveway. He found himself checking the window often, searching the outside for authorities. Paranoia was a side effect of being a fugitive. So was stress.

He was certainly stressed. Worry lines had taken up residence on his forehead. His thoughts were consumed by a woman living a mere twenty miles away - so close, yet so far. Maricruz was the reason he had run, but he couldn’t be with her yet. Her home was under tight police surveillance.

His bed was large and luxurious, but he didn’t need all that extra room. It only reinforced his loneliness. He could stretch out his hand and feel nothing but the cold space beside him.

A little down the hall was LJ’s room. After T-Bag, C-Note, and Westmoreland had gone their separate ways, Michael and Lincoln had met up with Veronica and grabbed Lincoln’s fugitive son. The family reunion had been a tearful one, and Sucre felt like an outsider. He didn’t like to watch the family too closely. It reminded him that he didn’t have one at the moment.

In the opposite corner of the apartment, in the master bedroom, Michael and Lincoln shared a king-sized bed. Sucre had looked in on them once, and he had come to the conclusion that sharing a bed was not a new experience for them.

LJ’s sleepwalking, on the other hand, was a recent occurrence. It had begun about two weeks into their stay at the apartment. Sucre presumed it stemmed from stress.

He didn’t know the boy too well, but the few conversations they had shared had been pleasant ones. The boy was smart and had a subtly sarcastic sense of humor that reminded Sucre of Michael.

He had thought about telling LJ about his new habit, but the thought slowly faded into oblivion as each night passed and sleeping became less of a chore.

It had startled him at first. Nighttime lay beyond the shaded window, and though all was dark inside the bedroom, he lay awake, arm outstretched at his side, hand absently caressing the other pillow. His hand froze as soon as he heard a noise at his door. It was the doorknob slowly turning.

The door swung open in what seemed like slow-motion. Sucre could feel his heartbeat accelerating, his paranoia kicking into high gear. He knew he should get up, but he felt helpless. All he could do was wait.

A form, silhouetted by a faint light from the living room, appeared at the doorway. It stepped into the room and gently shut the door behind itself. Sucre squinted and could just barely make out the form in the darkness. It shuffled forward and stopped at the edge of the bed. After a short pause, in which it swayed in a slight zombie-like manner, the figure climbed under the covers, pulling them snugly around itself.

Dumbfounded, Sucre leaned out of bed and turned on the bedside lamp. Soft filtered light reached the mysterious form on the bed. LJ lay perfectly still, his eyes closed and breathing shallow.

“LJ? Hey, LJ, what’s goin' on?” But he received no answer. After a gentle shake and two more attempts to speak to the boy, Sucre realized that he was asleep and that he must have been so the whole time.

He toyed with the idea of leaving LJ to his bed and instead sleeping in LJ’s room or on the couch, but he decided there was no harm in staying. He moved to the very edge of the mattress and left LJ with plenty of room of his own.

The next morning, the smell of bacon woke him from his sleep. LJ popped into his head and he glanced to his right. The bed was empty, but he didn’t know if LJ had woken up there or if he’d sleepwalked back to his own room. The short, casual conversation they shared at the breakfast table told him it was the latter of the two thoughts.

Every morning after that, it was the same thing. For a while. Then, things started to change.

Sucre had become used to LJ’s midnight wanderings. He even began waiting for them. He stayed up on purpose to watch the sleeping boy shuffle into his room and lie down on his bed. He liked it. It was comforting to have someone else there at his loneliest times. Nighttime.

After a week, with each new night, LJ began inching a little closer to Sucre’s side of the bed. Eventually, he was flush against him. This had alarmed Sucre at first, but then he found himself enjoying the feel of a warm body by his side, an arm draped over his body, a nose snuggled into his neck. It was a little different, but it felt like home. And soon enough, Sucre threw an arm around LJ in return. He hugged him close and laid his chin on LJ’s head, breathing in the fragrance of LJ’s shampoo.

There was a constant nagging in the back of his head that he was wrong to snuggle with the boy. LJ was oblivious to everything that was happening. Every morning he got up, still asleep, and walked back to his own bed. Sucre couldn’t help but think the boy would be horrified if he knew, but Sucre had become selfish. He felt lost, a stranger among close family. His secret connection with LJ made life just a little more bearable, and it made him feel wanted, if only subconsciously. He didn’t want to mess that up. He looked forward to the nighttime. His escape from his despair.

And so, he began to dread the mornings, when he knew the warm body next to him would be gone. He usually slept through it, but there were times when he would awake at the movement, the untangling of limbs, and he would watch LJ go, sleepwalking back to his own bed. Sucre almost followed him, but he restrained himself. He couldn’t be there when LJ woke up.

His restraint could only go so far. It was only a matter of time before he slipped up.

It was a warm night in July. LJ had been only in his boxers, rather than the usual t-shirt and pajama pants. Sucre was always in nothing but boxers. On that night, the boy’s smooth skin pressed against Sucre’s own. It felt better than it should have. To make matters worse, LJ must have been dreaming. His hand moved lazily along Sucre’s body as small appreciative noises escaped his mouth.

It was torture. Sucre had to lie still and try not to touch anything, but he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around the boy’s naked torso and crush him to his body, thrusting his hips against him.

When LJ’s mouth closed wetly over Sucre’s neck, the boy’s noises got louder and turned to drawn-out moans. Sucre’s arousal would have been apparent if LJ’s hand had ventured further south. And if he had been awake.

Two more seconds. Just two more seconds and Sucre was breaking his unspoken rule. His hands grasped the boy’s hips and pulled him closer, grinding against him. LJ began thrusting back, until he had released his teenage frustration in a sticky mess.

Before Sucre could release his own frustration, LJ pulled away and left the bed. At first, Sucre thought he had woken up, but LJ staggered slowly to the door, his state of sleep obvious. Sucre was left to finish himself off with his hand.

He tried to block out the thoughts that followed that experience, but they pounded at his head. LJ was Lincoln’s son and was only fifteen. Plus, he had no idea what was even happening to him after dozing off every night. It was wrong on so many levels, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Like a horrible addiction. He eagerly awaited each night for his next fix.

He began avoiding everyone, afraid they’d find out what he’d been up to just by looking into his eyes. Meals were consumed in his room, and he only talked to the brothers when they had some important bit of information about the plan to get away from there. He suspected that his avoidance was more suspicious than anything that might be hiding behind his eyes, but he just couldn’t face them. Especially the boy.

He wondered how long it would all last. At some point, LJ would grow out of this phase. He would become more relaxed and his sleepwalking habit would disappear. How long? The thought scared him.

A night came, when LJ left after the horrible deed, and Sucre grabbed his hand before he could stop himself. “No, don’t go!”

The rough tug on LJ’s arm jolted him awake and he snatched his hand away and backed against a wall, his eyes wild with confusion and fear.

“What the hell?” He squinted at the bed, seeming to just now notice who was on it.

Sucre quickly covered himself with the blankets and could only stare back. He could hear his own heart pounding.

LJ glanced down at himself, noticing the way the front of his boxers stuck to him. He cupped his hands over the messy area and looked back up, a deep blush crossing his cheeks. “I… what’s… what happened?” His voice was shaky.

Pulling himself together, Sucre replied with the truth (albeit the abridged version), “You were sleepwalking.”

LJ surveyed the room, not looking for anything in particular, his eyes finally landing on Sucre again. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen you do it once before.” How easily lies could flow from the tongue when one’s own reputation was on the line. “It’s probably not a regular thing.”

“Oh. Well, sorry,” he timidly responded as he turned and swiftly vacated the room.

Sucre dropped back on the bed, feeling his chest tightening. What if this was the end? What if waking up LJ had ruined what they shared?

But it continued, and the unwittingly mutual bump and grind that had been going on was growing tiresome to Sucre. He craved more. He wanted so badly to be inside the boy, to feel the internal heat and be completely sheathed in its presumably-tight confines. He wanted it, but he couldn’t have it. That would surely wake the boy up.

And that was only one side of the problem. The other side consisted of Sucre’s guilty conscience.

He could tell the boy was avoiding him as well. Every time he looked at him, LJ averted his eyes. Sucre began to worry that LJ knew what was happening, but then he’d tell himself that it was only because LJ was embarrassed about being seen in his wet boxers.

Sucre decided that there was only so much satisfaction in getting off with an unconscious boy. Aside from being horribly wrong, it was limiting. Sucre was the intimate type. Feeling close to someone was important to him. Sleeping around with someone behind their own back wasn’t going to make him feel any closer to that person.

He had never meant for it to happen, and he didn’t completely understand it, but he had grown a certain fondness for the boy. He found himself fantasizing about a night when LJ would reciprocate his feelings. LJ had been slowly replacing thoughts of Maricruz. Sucre didn’t particularly like that fact, but it was a fact. There was no denying it.

It didn’t mean he didn’t love her anymore. Hell, she was the love of his life and the mother of his child. But LJ happened to be accessible, and, Sucre had to admit, the boy felt damn good against his own skin. He was a man, after all; he had needs.

And so, he made up his mind. He would wake him up. He would wake him as soon as he had crawled into the bed.

He watched the next night as LJ pulled the covers back and slid into bed beside him. He immediately reached for Sucre, but his hand hit nothing but mattress. It felt around, searching blindly, but Sucre was standing. He had climbed out of bed, hesitant about his decision. Could he really do it? What if LJ freaked out again and left? And then he’d know, and it would all end. Sucre would once again be alone in a big bed, left to his thoughts of a family that, because of Hector, may not even be there when he was able to go back.

He shakily reached out and brushed his fingertips over LJ’s arm. The contact caused LJ’s searching hand to stop. Sucre took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he let his fingers trail over LJ’s bicep, feeling the muscles there jump under his touch.

He climbed onto the bed on his knees and dared to venture further. His hand slid over LJ’s shoulder to his back, and he heard a quiet gasp. Applying more pressure, he gently shook the sleeping boy.

LJ’s eyelids fluttered a moment, until it registered in his brain that someone’s hand was on his back, shaking. With another gasp, a more startled one, he jumped to his hands and knees.

“Relax! It’s just me.” Sucre held up his hands.

LJ looked around to find that he wasn’t in his own room. He quickly flipped over to sit, hastily pulling the covers over himself, leaving Sucre to wonder if he was already hard.

After a moment of silence, LJ asked, “Was I sleepwalking again?”

With a slight nod Sucre replied, “Yeah.” He sat down as well, making sure to leave plenty of space between him and LJ. “You’ve did it a few times now.”

“What, come in here? You mean, more than just this time and that other time?” LJ didn’t make eye contact, choosing instead to study his hands in what little light filtered through the cracks in the blinds.

Sucre swallowed hard. They were getting into uneasy territory. The situation could only get more and more complicated. “Yeah.”

Now LJ looked at Sucre’s face. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know, I guess… I guess I thought you’d be embarrassed or somethin’.”

LJ looked away again. Another silence passed, until he hesitantly asked, “What… exactly happened?”

Sucre was sure he was sweating. He felt too warm for comfort. “What do you mean?”

LJ wiped at his forehead, still staring down. “I mean, what happens when I come in here? Because… because sometimes when I wake up….” He trailed off.

“Yeah?”

“Never mind. It’s not important.”

“You can tell me.” Sucre carefully inched closer, intending to place a hand on LJ’s shoulder, but something in his mind told him to hold off on that.

They sat like that for a while, LJ looking away and fidgeting with the blankets, Sucre completely still and keeping his eyes on the nervous boy. He wasn’t going to push him, but he hoped that LJ would open up to him.

He supposed that his expectations were unfair. Why should LJ tell him anything? He hadn’t exactly been honest himself. He only told LJ as much as he was willing to reveal to save his own skin. He didn’t feel good about it, but he tried to console himself by telling himself that keeping quiet was best for LJ too.

But if LJ were to bring it up first, then it wouldn’t be so bad. And maybe he felt the same way.

Just as Sucre was about to get up and tell LJ to just go back to bed, LJ spoke. “Have I been doing things to you?”

This caught Sucre off guard. The boy was more bold than he had given him credit for. “Doing things?” he asked, being careful not to reveal anything in the tone of his voice.

“Yeah, like throwing myself at you?” LJ seemed to be picking up confidence with each word he spoke. “I’ve been having dreams every night. Ya know, umm, dirty dreams. And I wake up all… you know.” He made a subtle gesture towards his lower half.

Sucre was stunned. “Uh… well….” Should he say it? He wanted to. Oh, he had wanted this for a very long time, but now that the time had come, he was rendered speechless. LJ’s forwardness had been unexpected.

“I have, haven’t I? Jesus. I don’t even know what to say.” Looking down and shaking his head, LJ grasped the back of his neck, appearing very vulnerable at the moment. The sight stirred Sucre’s compassionate side.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Sucre moved even closer and decided this was the time to put a hand on LJ’s shoulder. He did it delicately, so as not to scare the boy, and refrained from any sort of rubbing. “You don’t have to say anything.”

LJ’s pained expression was on him in an instant. “How the fuck is this okay? How can you say it’s okay when I come in here, totally unaware, and practically jump you!”

Sucre didn’t have an answer for him. He wanted to tell him how much it meant to him to have someone there every night. He wanted to explain to him the void he felt whenever LJ left. He wanted to admit to him how good it felt to have a warm body press against him, to have someone need his touch again. He wanted to suggest that they take it further, to see how it felt, to know how much more there was. But he couldn’t say anything. He only stared and hoped that his eyes would say it all for him.

But LJ wasn’t looking at his eyes anymore. He was heading for the door, but before he opened it, he turned and said, “Maybe you should start locking your door. Maybe if I run into a locked door for a few nights, my brain will realize that this room is forbidden and it’ll stop.”

The words had hit Sucre hard. Obviously, LJ didn’t want anything more from him, but he still couldn’t say anything. He only nodded, knowing in his heart that he wasn’t really going to do it.

And then LJ was gone. The door clicked shut, leaving Sucre to a profound emptiness.

He had barely begun to attempt sleeping, when the doorknob slowly turned and the door opened again. He sat up to see someone poke his head in.

“LJ?”

“Uhh, yeah. Can I come in?” A short laugh that sounded almost bitter followed the question. “I guess this would be the first time I’ve actually asked to come in here,” he said.

Sucre had to laugh at the observation. “Yeah, come on in.”

LJ stepped in, shutting the door behind him. Shuffling over to the bed, he took a seat on the edge and folded his hands in his lap. Sucre mentally noted that he had put on pajama pants and a shirt.

“Well,” the boy started, “I just had a question. I couldn’t sleep.”

“What’s up?” He pushed the covers back and sat beside LJ on the edge of the mattress, subconsciously mirroring LJ by folding his own hands in the same manner.

“This is gonna seem weird. I don’t even know why I’m asking,” he stalled. An awkward silence fell over them, LJ refusing to show Sucre his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Sucre eventually assured him.

“Well, I couldn’t help but wonder… did you enjoy it?” He stole a glance at Sucre.

Sucre knew immediately what he was talking about. A panicked feeling rose in his chest. “Oh, well, no… I mean, you know how it is.” He wasn’t even sure what he was saying, but it all started pouring out. “It’s just a natural reaction… and I miss Maricruz, and… you know?” The panic grew as he watched LJ’s expression change during his rambling. “But it wasn’t like… ay, carajo… it wasn’t, uh….” He was done. He wasn’t, but he was. He had dug his hole. Now he had to lie in it.

“Whoa.” That was all LJ said. It didn’t ease Sucre’s dread in the least. Why did LJ have to ask? He was certainly Lincoln’s son. If he had been Michael’s son, he probably would have kept his mouth shut.

Sucre couldn’t stand it. He had hoped LJ would say a little more, but nothing more had been said so far. He took this to mean the boy was done as well. “It’s nothin’,” he quickly said, trying to dismiss the whole conversation. “It don’t mean anything.”

LJ stared at the wall, probably thinking.

“So,” he suddenly spoke, “what do I look like when I sleepwalk? I’ve never seen anyone do it.”

He didn’t know why the boy was sticking around. He assumed he had scared him for good. And yet, there he was, asking more questions, as if nothing had ever happened. He wasn’t sure he’d ever figure him out. So, there was another Michael-like attribute.

“I don’t know, kinda like a zombie.”

LJ laughed. “Seriously? So, I stiffly stagger around with my arms out in front of me? Do I moan and groan too?”

Sometimes. “No. No strange noises, no staggering, no arms out. You walk pretty slow, and it’s like you’re real careful. It’s kinda freaky ‘cause your eyes are sorta open, but I guess you gotta see where you’re goin’. And you always shut the door behind you.”

“Wow. So, how many times have I come in here?”

Sucre sucked in a breath. “Oh, I don’t know, it happens here and there. Maybe six or seven times.” He couldn’t bring himself to tell LJ that the number was probably closer to twenty.

LJ seemed surprised at this answer. Finally satisfied, he got up, but he had another question. “So, you’re still gonna lock the door, right?” Sucre nodded and LJ left the room.

Sucre was sure he had never felt so mixed-up. That was one odd boy. But he still wasn’t going to lock his door.

The next night, he lay under the covers, patiently waiting for the door to slowly swing in. It did about fifteen minutes later. LJ stepped inside and shut the door, but he had turned around to shut it rather than pushing it shut while facing the bed. He had never done that before. Sucre figured the other night’s events must have affected his sleepwalking patterns. Added stress, he supposed, and this prompted him to wonder what else would be different.

LJ crept over to the bed and climbed in, shutting his eyes as soon as his head hit the pillow. He then slid closer to Sucre’s waiting body. He was awkward with his movements and seemed hesitant. As soon as his hand had touched Sucre’s side, he withdrew it. And Sucre was sure the boy had made a face, but it was so quick that it could have just been from a dream.

Maybe his dreams were more turbulent that night.

Sucre watched with anticipation as the boy’s hand reached out again and, this time, remained on his warm skin. The fingers were spread and wandered over his hipbone, stopping at the waistband of Sucre’s boxers. There they stayed while LJ laid his head on Sucre’s chest.

Any time now and LJ’s hand would be moving up and down the length of Sucre’s body, but it never happened. LJ had gone back to the tame nights of two weeks ago. Sucre tried not to be disappointed.

He didn’t have to try long because he suddenly felt hot bursts of air over his collarbone, followed by lips closing over the sensitive area. LJ moved his hand further up Sucre’s side as he painfully slowly began kissing his way up Sucre’s neck, leaving a burning trail.

Lifting his chin, Sucre let out a sigh. It was rare when LJ went this far, but he had never gone far enough to place any kisses on his mouth. Sucre always wished he would, but he assumed that attempting to kiss LJ would wake him up.

There was no need to wish on this night. LJ was up to his jaw line and showed no signs of stopping. He kissed the corner of Sucre’s mouth, the closest he could get without actually being there, and then it happened, and it was like a dream. Perhaps Sucre was asleep too, but he knew he wasn’t.

Sucre’s hands had slid up LJ’s sides and over his back as LJ’s mouth moved over his own. It had started out light, just a whisper of the boy’s lips on his, just a teasing amount of pressure and movement, and then it got deeper. And soon, Sucre found his lips parting to make room for LJ’s exploring tongue.

LJ was lying almost completely on top of him. He was in his pajama pants, but he wore no shirt, and the skin contact was electric.

Everything was different. Good - so good - but different. It was too intimate. It was too much of what Sucre had been fantasizing about but knew he’d never have as long as LJ was asleep. So, there could only be one explanation.

Roughly grabbing LJ’s arms, Sucre flipped him onto his back and held him down. LJ’s eyes popped open, but he didn’t say anything as he stared, wide-eyed, his chest rapidly rising and falling.

And Sucre thought he had never looked so exquisite. Those big, green eyes, their moisture reflecting the gentle moonlight. The soft lips, slightly parted and a shade darker from the forceful kiss. Perfect skin… forget asking the boy if he had only pretended to be asleep.

Sucre crushed his mouth with an urgent kiss, letting out every ounce of desire that had been pent up inside him. And to his pleasure, LJ kissed back.

A moment later, two hands pushed Sucre’s head back. “Whoa,” said LJ, his body visibly trembling. “This is kinda crazy, don’t you think?”

“I know you weren’t sleepwalkin’ this time.”

LJ shied away from his intense stare. “Well… you didn’t lock your door.” He looked back, his eyes accusing.

Sucre was caught. “I… musta forgot… okay, no, I didn’t. You mad?” He couldn’t help but crack a smile.

A confused expression briefly crossed LJ’s face, before being replaced by laughter. “Umm,” he began after some time, “I guess it’s apparent.”

“What is?”

Clearing his throat, the boy shifted a bit, restricted by Sucre’s hands on his arms. “That I’m not mad. Hey, could you let go?”

“Oh, sorry.” Sucre eased up on his arms. He turned on his side, propping himself on one elbow.

LJ sat up and fiddled with the blankets. He mumbled something that Sucre couldn’t quite catch. Sucre sat up and leaned in a little closer, a movement that didn’t go unnoticed by LJ, who appeared to tense up.

“What’s that?” Sucre asked, also feeling the weight of the proximity. He stared down at the boy’s exposed neck. He wondered what LJ would do if he assaulted it with his mouth right then, no warning.

LJ cleared his throat and repeated, a little louder, “I just wondered what it felt like.”

Feeling confident, Sucre moved closer, letting his breath reach the boy’s skin. “Well, honestly, it feels pretty good.”

He had begun to move in, when LJ’s voice stopped him. “But isn’t that kind of weird?” he hesitantly asked.

Sucre didn’t know what to say. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what I mean!” LJ let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, I guess I mean… you’re a guy. And I’m a guy. And you told me you had a girlfriend who was having a baby, and you couldn’t wait to get back to her. And… and there was this girl at school that I really liked, and it seemed like she might like me too, but… then there’s all this. What is this?” He searched Sucre’s face, looking for the answers.

Sucre told him as much as he could. “I don’t know.” And just like that, all of the shame he had felt over the past few weeks fell upon him like the proverbial ton of bricks. He had to look away from LJ’s intense stare.

“Well, whatever it is, you’re right,” said LJ. “It feels pretty good.” And when Sucre turned to face him again, LJ grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him into another bruising kiss.

As soon as one uncertain hand touched Sucre’s side, he was once again reminded of the fact that LJ was only fifteen.

Grabbing the slowly wandering hand, Sucre broke the kiss. With regret, he laid out his concern. “This probably ain’t a good idea. Everything about it. Go back to your room.”

He could see the painful affect he had had on the boy. Rejection was the last thing LJ needed at this time in his life, but it was the right thing to do.

Without a single word, LJ got up and left. Before exiting, he turned to Sucre. “Does this mean you’re locking the door?”

Sucre hadn’t even thought about it. “Oh. Uh, I guess I better.”

“And,” LJ added, “if I’m mostly the reason why you think this is wrong, then just so you know, I don’t feel bad about it at all. So, do what you want, but if you should decide to leave the door unlocked, make sure to wake me up when I get in here.” He walked out the door, gently shutting it behind himself.

Sucre found himself unable to form any coherent thoughts. Damn. Where had this young boy learned to push buttons like that? Feeling a little warm (the phrase "hot and bothered" ran through his head), Sucre fell back against the pillows and reached into his boxers. He closed his eyes and could see LJ in his mind. He wouldn’t have been able to think of anyone else if he had tried.

He knew he’d have to lock the door if he was going to feel like this. And he made up his mind. He was locking it the next night. But that was really the last thought on his mind at the moment, with his fist furiously pumping and his breathing ragged. He’d have to get used to this again.

I'm so evil. :) Zsu, don't hate me!