The rose was wasn't like Cam.

Since when did they give each other flowers? Let alone roses?

Well, one rose, to be fair. Hunter frowned, staring at the teachers practicing in front of him without really seeing them. He taught an advanced element class three days a week, and if they didn't know what they were doing by now then he ought to have quit a long time ago. So he didn't worry about their safety while he daydreamed.

The rose wasn't pink, which he would have known was a joke. It wasn't white, which he had once seen Cam use to commemorate his mom's death. No, this was a red rose, and it had been delivered to his table in the dining hall anonymously just before breakfast. The very public stunt had ensured that the Thunder Academy's head teacher would be subject to campus-wide teasing for the rest of the day.

And that, at least, was exactly like Cam.

A hand was being waved in front of his face, and he glared at its owner reflexively. Jamie was taking advantage of his distracted to state to mock him, as usual, and the glare had zero effect on her. "Gonna get lucky on your birthday, loverboy?"

"It's not my birthday," he snapped. Without thinking, he added, "It's his." The words had the unfortunate effect of proving that he was thinking about exactly what she thought he was.

Of course this elicited a whoop of laughter, and Hunter sighed. He loved these kids. Really, he did. But didn't they have anything better to do than to live vicariously through him?

"I think you're the one who's supposed to be sending flowers," Clare advised him, abandoning her own practice as the others started to look up and take notice. If he didn't shut them up now, he was going to be surrounded by a group of gossip-y teachers in minutes.

"We don't do the flower thing," Hunter told her. Frowning suspiciously, he amended, "At least, we never did before."

"It's a message," Jamie decided. "Flowers, from now on. At least you're taking him to dinner, right?"

"Not that it's any of your business," Hunter growled, "But no. I was informed that he'll be taking me to dinner, and I have no say in the destination."

"Where are you going?" Clare wanted to know.

Hunter raised an eyebrow in Ethan's direction as the weapons' teacher joined them. The other ninja just returned the look, letting his amused expression speak for him. "I don't know," Hunter grumbled. "Supposedly I won't be embarrassed. Probably."

"Probably?" Ethan repeated, deigning to participate in the girl gossip for the first time.

"His exact words." Hunter gave Jamie and Clare a pre-emptive glare, not that it would do any good, and recited, "Don't worry, it isn't anywhere that'll embarrass you. Probably."

"In other words, definitely," Clare said, smirking.

"Did anyone ask you?" Hunter retorted. "What time is it, anyway? What are you all still doing here? Go on, clear out. Class is over."

"Yes, Sensei," Jamie teased, and her tone made it very clear that she was teasing. Ethan caught his eye as the girls turned away, and the understated wink made Hunter shake his head. They were way and beyond too involved in his love life.

He made a tactical decision to avoid the dining hall come lunch time. He didn't mind the teachers' constant commentary half as much as he pretended, but there was no reason to invite it in a public forum. He was also just the slightest bit paranoid about finding another rose waiting for him at his place when he arrived... so he headed for his apartment instead. There was food there.

Nothing seemed off to him when he entered. It was empty, quiet, and something of a relief from the campus outside. Everything was where he left it, and he dropped his gear bag by the door before he shucked his uniform and headed for the refrigerator.

He didn't see it until he went to collapse on the couch. It didn't even strike him as odd at first, but he hesitated before sitting down, mug of milk in one hand and a slice of cold pizza in the other. There was a CD on top of the stereo. He didn't leave CDs lying around, as a general rule. Jewel cases were a waste of space, so the only ones he tolerated on his entertainment system were Cam's.

Cam had cleaned his music out last weekend, complaining the whole time that he could never find the stuff he left with Hunter when he wanted it. But now there was another CD case, just sitting there, weirdly deliberate on the otherwise clear surface. Hunter set his mug down and approached the stereo with caution.

A black CD under a clear cover, with the word "Memorex" emblazoned across the top and a single phrase printed in gold marker underneath: play me.

Hunter grinned. It definitely wasn't Cam's style, but no one else knew him well enough to stalk him like this. And if it came right down to it, what was Cam's style? Unpredictable. That was the sum total of his style.

And no question, this qualified.

Hunter put the CD in the stereo and powered it up. He took a large bite of his pizza while he waited for the system to detect the CD and figure out what to do with it. When had Cam expected him to get this, he wondered? He must have figured Hunter wouldn't have time to come back until evening... but on the other hand, he'd gone to the trouble of smuggling it in early. Maybe he had spies?

He must've, Hunter decided, to pull off the rose thing. So that left the question of which of his fellow teachers Cam had subverted to help him with his devious plot. And how much of the plot Hunter had yet to discover. Didn't the guy even take a day off on his birthday?

The opening screech of an unfamiliar song made Hunter narrow his eyes, even if the pounding guitar that started up a moment later marked the music as unmistakably country. He ragged on country because he could, and most of the time Cam let him get away with it. So what was this?

This was a really loud woman, he realized a moment later. "I'm an eight ball shooting double-fisted drinking son of a gun," she began. He wondered if he ought to recognize this song. Something Cam expected him to remember? Or something that was meant to, as Jamie thought, send a message?

"I wear my jeans a little tight just to watch the little boys come undone," the singer screamed, and Hunter's lips quirked. Cam, Cam, Cam... where did he get these songs? "I'm here for the beer and the ball-bustin' band, gonna get a little crazy just because I can..."

Okay, he had officially never heard this song before in his life. Which left the "it's a message" option. He had to admit, he was starting to like that option more and more as the song went on.

Abruptly, Hunter remembered that he was supposed to be eating lunch. He took another absent bite of pizza, but he didn't move from his place by the stereo. This whole country thing was rapidly becoming one of Cam's more entertaining idiosyncracies.

"I may not be a ten but the boys say I clean up good--" And here Hunter scoffed, about to roll his eyes before he realized how stupid he would look responding to the lyrics of a song like they meant something. "If I gave 'em half a chance for some rowdy romance, you know they would..."

Of course, if this was about tonight, Hunter thought with a smirk, then it was on.

Just like that, Hunter's perspective shifted. Cam loved that cowboy hat. And if he was the cowboy, then that made Hunter--

He actually laughed aloud, shaking his head as he took another bite of pizza to hide his amusement. So I wear my pants a little tight, do I? he thought. He might not be country music's biggest fan, but he knew an invitation when he heard it.

The song ended with a siren wailing in the background, which only made him grin again. He waited until the CD stopped and the stereo display reverted to "ready" mode to make sure that was the only thing on it. Then he reached for his cell phone.

He wasn't surprised to get Cam's voice mail.

"Hey," he said, turning away from the stereo to make his way back to the couch. "I think I have a secret admirer. I dunno, maybe we shouldn't go out tonight after all... you two might run into each other, and I'd hate to see you get all upset on your birthday.

"Plus," he added, like it was an afterthought. "That whole police thing, witnesses, giving statements about whose fault it was after you'd wiped the floor with him--that would really slow things down. So, y'know. Let me know if you want to cancel."

He hung up deliberately. He wasn't done, but he was making these separate messages on purpose. He counted to three before redialing. "By the way," he told Cam's voice mail. "Happy birthday."

He snapped his phone shut and tossed it on the table. The fact that the phone worked at all was thanks to Cam, who had finally gotten fed up with terrible cell service at the academies. Hunter didn't know what he had done, but the cloak still worked and now the phones worked too, so no one was complaining.

Hunter settled onto the couch, using the stereo remote to start the CD over again. The best thing about cold pizza--other than the fact it required no prep time--was that no matter how long you ignored it, it couldn't get any colder. The worst thing about cold pizza was that it made you remember when it had been hot pizza, and those memories were invariably better than whatever you were doing while you ate the leftovers.

He picked up his mug, ignoring the UCLA logo on the side. He didn't know why stores even bothered to sell mugs. Everyone in the world had at least a dozen, and as fast as you got rid of them other people were always giving you more. Case in point, colleges and other places of employment. Nothing said "cheap free gift" like a mug.

Except, of course, that people used them. He was using this one, and it wasn't even his. Which was why he liked it, he argued silently. But no, that wasn't much of a counter-argument, because the fact that it was Cam's cheap free gift didn't change the fact that it was a cheap free gift. It just meant that he was hopelessly in love with someone who didn't keep very good track of his free gifts.

Almost of its own volition, his hand went to the silver chain around his neck, fingers brushing the eight-pointed starburst at its center.

His phone rang.

He grabbed the remote and turned the music down before he picked up the phone. "Hey," he said, trying to sound casual. "Weird stuff happening around here today."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cam's voice informed him. "But my spies tell me you skipped lunch in the dining hall."

Hunter raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the smirk out of his voice. "Obviously the right choice. Turn over your spies and I'll reconsider my revenge."

He could hear Cam snort over the phone. "I'm sure you will. You'll reconsider it right into a more widespread application."

He was grinning and this time he knew Cam could tell. "I gotta get some new tricks. I'm not gonna be seeing any more roses today, am I?"

"No promises," Cam replied. "I have to go; I've got a meeting."

"Where are we going tonight?" Hunter wanted to know.

"You'll see," Cam answered, and he actually sounded amused. "My birthday, my choice."

"At least tell me what to wear," Hunter objected.

Cam seemed to consider that for a moment. "Dress for clubbing," he said at last.

Hunter raised his eyebrows. Dress for clubbing?

"See you at six," Cam added.

He just shook his head. "See you," Hunter agreed, still pondering that as he hung up. Clubbing. Since when did Cam go clubbing for fun? Since when did Cam go clubbing at all, if not to humor Hunter? He had expected something a little more... cultural, for Cam's birthday.

And his spies had told him Hunter wasn't in the dining hall? Hunter did a mental review of Thunder Academy teachers that Cam had hit it off with. Jamie was working through lunch. Clare had been leaving campus immediately after class, but might have stopped by the dining hall before she went. Ethan... Ethan could be anywhere, and he was just quiet and devious enough to have been part of a scheme.

It's always the ones you least expect, Hunter thought darkly. Yeah, it could definitely be Ethan.

He had time to start "Here for the Party" again before he finished his pizza, and he left it on while he washed his hands and put the mug in the sink. He didn't bother to rinse it out--if it was still dirty when he saw Cam tonight, he wouldn't be able to give it back. He cleaned up everything else and turned the stereo off on his way out the door.

Clubbing, he though, as he headed back to work. What was that supposed to mean?

Cam made good on his threat, and Hunter had two more roses before the end of the day. The third one, rather to his relief, was waiting in a vase when he finally made it back to his room. But the second one had been delivered to the teachers' room just after lunch, when everyone and their brother was getting ready for afternoon classes. So much for avoiding a scene by staying away from the dining hall.

Revenge, Hunter decided, would have to wait until after tonight. He needed to know the extent of Cam's plans before he could properly retaliate. After all, a few flowers and some music could be answered with one or two judiciously placed phone calls. But more than that--particularly if it involved drinking and club clothes--would demand a more thought out response.

He caught himself smiling and tried to frown instead. This wasn't funny. This was serious. This was war. The war of the cute. The war of the romantic. The war, in short, of everything he had tried to spare Cam in the face of the vaguely anti-gay sentiment that had seemed to pervade the Wind Academy earlier this year.

It was also what one might consider a natural escalation of hostilities. This realization came when he stepped into his bedroom to change and was confronted by a giant green plush dragonfly with iridescent wings. Cam had flat-out refused to carry it back to his own academy last night, after Hunter presented the stuffed animal to him as an early birthday gift. So it joined the large red dog on Hunter's bed, and it occurred to him that they were already way more familiar with each other than flowers implied.

They had skipped the flowers stage of the relationship, Hunter thought. Or had they both just agreed to ignore it? Flowers were, if it had to be said... well, girly. Since when did two guys give each other roses?

Since when do guys give each other stuffed animals? he wondered.

Since Cam had made it okay with his joke about fluffy toys, that was when. And if he was going to make flowers okay with his rose torture, then, well--Hunter was pretty okay with that too. He didn't think there was much Cam could do that he would mind.

Famous last words, he thought, wondering whether it was safer to be amused or worried.

It wasn't until he had changed, grabbed his jacket, and pocketed his keys that he saw the note on the door. Just a single post-it, stuck to the inside of the door to his apartment, with the words "Think about locking your door," scrawled on it. It was signed simply, Ethan.

Hunter's mouth quirked. Guess confirmed.

Cam was waiting when he arrived at the Wind Academy, standing outside his door and chatting with Dustin. Chatting? Cam? Hunter couldn't help smirking. It made a pretty, if somewhat implausible, picture. Cam's outfit didn't hurt any, either.

Cam smiled at him when he joined them, and Dustin greeted him with typical enthusiasm. Nice to see that extra responsibility hadn't changed Dustin in the slightest, Hunter thought, grinning. He was just as effusive and scatter-brained as ever.

"So yeah, thank you so much for the stuff that was all, well, you know." This appeared to be directed at Cam, so Hunter ignored it. "And dude, happy birthday!"

Okay, not that scatter-brained. Hunter regarded him with grudging respect. If Tori was to be believed, Dustin had once forgotten his own birthday, so this sudden knowledge of Cam's was pretty impressive. Maybe they were bonding over Marah and Kapri more than he'd realized.

Cam accepted Dustin's farewell with equanimity. Hunter managed a belated "See you," when Dustin waved at them both before disappearing, then turned a surprised look on his boyfriend. "Getting pretty chummy with Dustin, huh?"

"I seem to recall you criticizing me for not being 'chummy' enough when the school first reopened," Cam said dryly. "Changed your mind?"

Hunter frowned, falling into step beside Cam. "Did I say that?"

"Which?" Cam countered. "We're trying to keep my cousins enrolled, that's all. It's harder than it sounds, unfortunately."

"Trouble?"

"No more than usual. Why, are you looking for excitement?"

Hunter smirked. "No more than usual."

He didn't mention the roses until they reached the truck, and Cam didn't seem inclined to bring it up either. But for the first time, it occurred to him to open the passenger door before getting in himself. Cam accepted the courtesy without comment.

"So," Hunter said, settling into the driver's seat and putting the keys into the ignition. He didn't start the truck. "Want to tell me what's going on?"

Cam gave him a look like he had no idea what he was talking about. "What?"

"The roses," Hunter said patiently. "Traditionally, one expects to get flowers on his birthday, not give them away." There was a pause in which Cam said nothing, and Hunter added, "I liked the song, by the way. Any hidden meaning there?"

"Were you looking for some?" Cam retorted, but his protest sounded half-hearted.

"Yeah, I kind of was." Hunter studied him. Cam wasn't looking at him, was in fact staring at the racing sticker peeling on the glove compartment. "Since it's not standard you behavior. Sending flowers, I mean. Breaking into people's rooms and leaving them music. That kind of thing."

"I didn't break in," Cam disagreed.

"Your spies did," Hunter informed him. "I know. One of them left me a note."

Cam shook his head, wearing an expression that was too solemn to be anything but mocking. "Traitor."

"Right. So spill," Hunter demanded.

Cam sighed, but he didn't look particularly upset. Maybe a little uncomfortable, but not upset. "Okay. The ninja academies... well, they know us, right?"

Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Right," he said cautiously, when Cam seemed to expect an answer. What did that mean?

"Maybe my dad has some problems, but he puts up with it because he knows us." Cam grimaced at the dashboard. "It's going to be different when we leave. People won't... accept things, just because they know us."

Cam was being annoyingly cryptic, but Hunter had a bad feeling nonetheless. "Things," he repeated. "Us, you mean? Being together?"

"Yeah, us." Cam didn't look up. "UCLA's different, Hunter. The academies are traditional. The university... it's current. It's... open. Liberal."

"I wouldn't have guessed," Hunter said dryly. He hadn't thought about it, but it didn't sound like a bad thing. Cam's discomfort was really making him nervous, here. Different. Different how?

Cam finally turned to him, catching his eye and keeping it. "I'm not going to hide who I am there, Hunter. Or who I'm with."

Hunter just looked at him, unsure what he was supposed to say to that. Yeah? So?

Cam looked like he was bracing himself for something. "I don't know if you're okay with that."

Hunter frowned a little. "Sure I'm okay with it. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Okay enough to go to the Transfer Bar?"

He wouldn't have had any idea what that was if one of the teachers hadn't invited him a couple of weeks ago. "That one of the gay bars in the city?" he guessed.

Cam just nodded, and Hunter finally got it. "Is that what this is about?" he demanded, hoping to hell he was right, that the relief he felt was justified. "Being out?"

"Kind of." Cam sounded defensive. "Yeah."

Hunter was grinning. "A gay bar?" he teased, hard-pressed to keep from laughing at Cam's reluctance to spell it out for him. Like he might somehow be embarrassed to be seen with Cam... And all this time he'd thought it was the other way around.

"Is this a warning?" Hunter demanded, and he wasn't hiding his delight at all. "Should I be worried? The second you get away from the academies you're going to turn into a mushy, romantic fool? With the flowers, and the music--"

"Shut up," Cam snapped reflexively, and Hunter couldn't help it. He laughed aloud.

"You're a closet softie!" he crowed. "I should have guessed! You're not coming out as a queer, you're coming out as a romantic!"

Cam folded his arms, glaring at the dashboard, but his lips twitched and Hunter knew he wasn't angry. Annoyed, maybe, but hell, he deserved it after all that "It's going to be different when we leave" stuff. And come on... he could have just asked.

"Hey," Hunter said, grin still threatening to spill into laughter as he laid a hand on Cam's shoulder. He leaned over, deliberately provocative, and brushed his cheek against Cam's. "I love a romantic," he murmured.

He felt Cam exhale softly, turning his head just the slightest bit, and Hunter decided to go for it. Kissing Cam's skin, he breathed in his ear, "I love you."

There was another soft huff of air, probably amusement. "Love you too," Cam said softly.

Man, was that sweet to hear. And hey, if Cam thought he could handle a gay bar, then Hunter wasn't about to stand in his way. But...

"You know they're gonna card you," he teased, pulling away.

"They won't," Cam said, irritatingly calm. "But they'll card you."

Much to Hunter's annoyance, he was right.