Lost and Found

by PaxJax

Summary:

Russell and Timmy are still busy finding themselves and figuring out what it means to be married to one another, but there are obstacles along the way, including a long lost stranger who comes looking for Russell, and old familiar faces who create new conflicts. Meanwhile, Jeff and Audrey are expecting one child while raising another, and Adam and Jen begin planning for a family wedding, but things don't go as planned. [Part 2 of To Be With You]

Chapter 1: Stormy Weather

It was raining heavily outside the Island Diner. Adam and Jennifer sat across from one another in their regular booth, pouting lightly over their scrambled eggs.

"We could make a run for a cab," said Jen finally.

"No," said Adam. "Maybe it'll let up soon."

There was a crash of thunder.

"Or...maybe...not. You want to order pie or something? Pie is always good."

Jen moaned. "It's 10am. It's too early for pie, what's with you and pie?"

"I just like pie, so shoot me!"

Another crash of thunder caused Adam to flinch as though he were actually being shot, which elicited a laugh from Jen. The front door opened and they were glad for the temporary distraction. They were surprised to find the new arrival approach their table. Timmy stood drenched from head to toe, covered only with a scraggly newspaper atop his head.

"Good morning," he greeted the couple with a characteristic grin.

Jen stood, as if she could somehow help. "Oh my God, Timmy, what are you doing out in this kind of weather? You're soaked, uhm, take off a layer or something..."

"I'm afraid it goes all the way through, Ms. Rhodes. I'd have to strip to the buff, and I don't think the diner patrons are quite prepared for that kind of visual onslaught."

"Well, at least sit down, I'm sure they have towels or something, I'll go see what I can find."

Jen left the men to talk as Timmy took her place across from Adam.

"So what the heck are you doing out here, man?"

"Russell ordered breakfast to go."

"Well, why didn't he come out for it? He's not your boss anymore, Tim, you don't have to go out in pouring rain to pick up stuff for Russell anymore, I mean..."

"No, no, I headed out early, before it started raining."

Adam nodded, satisfied with this.

"Believe you me, gone are the days of being ordered around by the likes of Mr. Dunbar."

Timmy's phone rang. He reached into a pocket, which made a wet slurpy sound, and pulled it out with a shake of his hand. "Hello? Yes. Yes. Okay. No, yes...well...alright."

"Was that Russell?"

"Yes."

"What did he want?"

"...He asked me to pick up his dry cleaning."

"Oh, come on, Timmy."

"I'm an idiot, yes."

Jen returned with a small hand towel. "Sorry...it's all they would give me."

Timmy took the towel and patted himself gingerly to no avail. "Lovely. Thank you, Ms. Rhodes."

"Y'know, Timmy, you can drop the last names thing. I mean, you've called me Jennifer before and the world didn't explode. I know you're really proper and everything, but you're not professionally linked to any of us anymore, we're friends. You can call friends by their first names."

"I'm afraid it's just a habit I've developed over the years. My parents instilled in me a certain level of formality, you see. It still takes effort for me to not refer to Russell as 'Mr. Dunbar' or 'sir'."

"It's been a couple of months since you got together," said Adam.

"Yes, well, two months to five years, the brain takes awhile to catch up."

Jen smiled. "Yeah, you need to watch that, it sounds like you're into some kind of S&M thing."

Adam glared intently at Jen. "You know stuff. How do you know this stuff?"

She shrugged with a smug grin. "Maybe someday I'll teach you my ways."

"...You would do that, wouldn't you? You saucy little vixen--"

Timmy cleared his throat. "Delightful! Well, then, perhaps I should be going."

Jen glanced back outside. "Maybe you should wait with us for the weather to clear up."

"I'm afraid I should bring Russell his food, he's been rather sour this morning..."

"When is he not?" asked Jen flatly.

"It's really not all that bad. But still, I should be getting home."

Adam piqued. "Home? You mean Russell's place?"

Timmy bit a lip. "Excuse me, I misspoke."

Jen nudged Timmy lightly on the shoulder. "You're spending a lot of time over there. Why don't you just take the leap, huh?"

Timmy shook his head. "The only reason I've been at Russell's apartment so much is because we've had to study for this whole green card fiasco. We'll be interviewed soon to ensure our marriage is legitimate. We need to pass, I can't take any risks, I've been quizzing him like mad."

Adam suppressed a laugh. "Is that all you've been doing like mad, Timmy?"

Timmy hit the table in frustration. "Really?"

"I'm sorry, it's just I remember when Jen and I first moved in together, it was constant...well, you know. I mean just day and night, I mean I couldn't think about anything else, she was suddenly there all the time, everything was just right in my face--"

"Adam!" Jen had reached her point of modesty.

"Yes, well, Russell being right in your face day and night isn't necessarily a turn-on," offered Timmy. "Nor do I believe you actually want the sort of details you're presently fishing for, unless somehow of course you're genuinely interested in grizzly depictions of homoerotic activities involving one Russell T. Dunbar."

Adam thought about this carefully. He looked to Jen for guidance, and she shook her head no.

"Yeah, no, I...I don't think so, Tim. Thanks, anyway."

Timmy's phone rang again and he let out a frustrated growl. This time he answered with a less friendly tone: "What? No, I'm not doing that. Why? Well, because it's ridiculous and I don't want to. Yes, but...well, yes, but...okay. Okay. Yes. Alright. " He hung up and sighed heavily as he looked to Adam. "Don't say anything."

Adam resisted for a moment, but couldn't hold back. "Was that Russell?"

"Yes, of course it was Russell!" Timmy huffed. "He wants ice cream. It has to have chocolate, but the kind with the swirls, not the chunks, because god forbid the man have chunky ice cream!"

"Think you need an intervention, Timmy."

Jen added her two cents. "How do you even have time to run around doing random crap for Russell? You're not his assistant anymore, you're his husband. You have a new job now, shouldn't that be taking up your time? Russell's a big boy, he can get his own damn ice cream."

"Yes, well, about that. I'm afraid with my work visa in question, my boss really had no choice but to let me go until this whole mess is sorted out...suffice it to say, I'm going more than a tad insane."

"That's awful," said Jen. "I'm so sorry, why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"Well, it caused more than a touch of friction between Russell and I when I received the news...I just didn't feel like taking it past that. I suppose I've felt rather ashamed. I don't like feeling as though I'm...floating through the world without a purpose."

"You still have a purpose, Timmy," said Jen. "Even if you're not working. You're a good friend, you're good for Russell, and this is a temporary situation, you'll be back to work soon."

"My boss did assure me that there's a job for me as soon as my paperwork is back in order."

Adam chimed in, "Well, how are you paying bills in the meantime?"

"I had some money in savings. I'm not sure how I managed that, living on my previous meager salary...Russell offered to pay my bills, but...well, my pride has already taken a big enough hit as it is."

The phone rang again. "Oh, for the love of--" He answered and didn't hold back this time. "What the hell is it now?!" As he listened, his face softened. "Oh. Oh, yes. No, it's alright. I understand, Russell, really." A soft smile. "I love you too, sir."

As he hung up, Timmy looked to Adam and Jen slowly. "Uhm...well, you see, he...he apologized for being so demanding..." He nodded with a shrug of one shoulder. "He truly is changing. Whenever I forget this fact, he finds some way of reminding me..."

Jen offered a warm smile and a hand to Timmy's shoulder. She forgot it was wet, and sneered a moment about this, but returned to smiling.

"Timmy."

He looked to her.

"I think he's a tough nut to crack, but you're doing it somehow. Keep at it. He really does love you, I can tell. Whenever I see you guys together lately, he's got a glow. And not the kind I would normally chalk up to cheap tanning sprays. Anyway, you'll get the kinks ironed out."

"Thank you very much, Jennifer."

----------

A scowl was plastered upon Timmy's face as he came through the apartment door, sopping wet. His lovey dovey feelings had subsided, replaced by several miles of rain induced anger. He allowed Russell's breakfast order to collapse to the floor with a thud, and refrained himself from stomping on it out of fury.

Russell came strolling casually out from the bedroom, eating a candy bar and scrolling through his phone with a yawn. Timmy stood silently, waiting for Russell to notice him, which took a bit too long. When he finally looked up and saw Timmy, dripping onto the floor, face wracked in anger, Russell spoke in a tone far too relaxed for Timmy's liking.

"Wait, it's raining?"

Timmy began stripping himself of clothes. "No, I decided to go find a park and take a stroll through a lake on the way home, it seemed like a good idea at the time and YES, IT'S RAINING."

"Well, how was I supposed to know!"

Timmy, bare chested, walked swiftly to the large window covering half the living room wall and pointed to the very obvious rainstorm happening outside.

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

"Well, I'm sorry."

"Well, you should be."

"I've been in the back all morning, I wasn't exactly playing weatherman." Russell retrieved Timmy's wet clothes from where he'd strewn them carelessly on the sofa. "You know, you don't have to be here all the time if you don't want to be."

"Who said I didn't want to be?" Timmy kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks, and began working on his pants, stripping down to only his boxers.

"Attitude's a dead give away. And don't put wet clothes on the furniture, I just had the upholstery redone, this thing cost a fortune."

Timmy threw his pants at Russell with a bit too much force, to which Russell dropped the entire stack of clothes to the floor in a huff.

Timmy put up a finger and said sternly: "COUNT TO FIVE." He had set this rule in motion a couple of weeks prior when it had become clear that bickering was getting the best of them. Both men closed their eyes, took very deep breaths in unison, and counted out loud together:

"One...two...three...four...five."

Another deep breath, eyes opened.

"So, your dry cleaning wasn't ready," said Timmy calmly.

"I said you didn't have to go."

"Well, I went anyway."

"Mm. Well, they're always pulling that crap, I should switch dry cleaners."

Timmy walked past Russell, collecting his clothes and carrying them down the hall. "I'm just putting these in the bathroom, I'll take them home and do them with mine."

"Come on, that's a waste of time, we can do our laundry together."

Timmy walked back out with an odd look on his face. "Do you think so? Doesn't that seem...I don't know...invasive, somehow?"

Russell rolled his tongue in his cheek. "Dude, are you serious? Mixing our laundry is invasive? Timmy, my dick's been in your--"

"Very well, we can mix laundry."

Russell took a beat, looking Timmy up and down. "Are, uh...are the shorts wet, too?"

Timmy counted to five in his head. "Not happening."

"Are you suuuuure?" Russell began approaching Timmy with a slight swagger.

"Still angry. Not happening."

"Yeah, okay, I get that you're angry...but more importantly, are you horny?"

"Russell, there's only so many times I can count to five!"

Russell put up his hands in defeat and backed away slowly. "Geez, who crawled up your tailpipe? What's with the attitude, why are you so pissed off?"

"I just trudged all around the city for your stupid frivolities in the middle of a downpour, and you're asking me why I'm so pissed off?"

"I didn't even know it was raining!"

"Well, it was!"

"Well, I'm sorry!" Russell proceeded to walk past Timmy and into the bedroom. He emerged a moment later with a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. "You need to start keeping clothes here."

Despite Russell being correct on this point, Timmy refused to comment. He took the clothes, dressed quickly, and stood in front of Russell quietly. Finally, Russell chose to speak.

"So...are you okay? Do you need anything, a sweater or something, you look cold."

"I'm all right. Thank you."

"I didn't know it was raining."

Timmy met Russell's eyes, trying to read them for sincerity. He sighed in frustration, wanting desperately to remain angry, and instead found himself melting. "It's okay. It's my own fault, I need to learn to say no. You're not paying me to be your errand boy anymore, I shouldn't allow myself to do things I don't want to do."

"You're seriously letting me off the hook that easy?" Russell looked around, as if trying to find some secret hidden amongst the room. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. Just taking my fair share of the blame in this."

Russell clicked his tongue. "I was sort of hoping this could stay heated a little longer. Kind of like the angry sex..."

Timmy aimed to punch Russell in the stomach; Russell caught his fist and leaned in, kissing him; the men stayed like this, intensity escalating, until the moment was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing in another room.

Timmy swiftly dodged away from Russell to retrieve his phone. Russell stood alone, lips barren, staring blankly into space. Finally he turned with a sigh.

"Freaking phone. This close, I was!"

Timmy came back out, drying off the phone he'd pulled from his pants pocket. "Voicemail." He called the number and listened. "Automated message, it's cut off, but...hold on...it's some kind of a reminder for an appointment." He looked confused. He listened again. "Do you know anything about this?"

"About what?"

"A meeting. In regards to my green card."

"What are you talking about?"

Timmy looked as though he might set into panic mode at any moment. He began to speak very slowly, deliberately, with excessive hand gestures. Russell knew this meant serious business.

"Six weeks ago I mailed out the necessary forms to begin the procedure of securing my green card..."

"I...vaguely remember that, doi. Come on, give me a little credit here, Tim."

"Yes. Okay. And since then, I've been in contact with the agencies in charge of verifying our marriage as legitimate."

"Oh, gee, no kidding, Sherlock, is that what all the random paperwork is we keep doing? I thought we were buying a yacht. Lots of red tape involved in buying a yacht. I thought we'd name it the S.S. Rusty Indian. See, because I'm Rusty and you're Indian. Sure, it might come across as a little 'offensive' at first glance, but--"

"Drop the sarcasm."

"But--"

"Drop it!"

Russell clamped his lips shut with a growl.

"Now, I want you to think very carefully, Russell. Did we recently receive a letter to this address, perhaps something official looking, something that looks like government mail...?"

Russell's face softened. "I don't think so."

"Are you certain of that? I need you to be absolutely sure, this is of the utmost importance..."

Gears were turning in Russell's head. He walked a few feet away, picking up a small trash can and slowly yanking out old discarded mail. "Bill...bill...credit card offer...you may already be a winner...bill..."

"Why aren't you paying your bills? I thought we discussed this."

"You discussed it, I think I was watching Jeopardy or something, I remember it was teen week. Something for a Russell Punbar, whoever that is." His face went cold. "Oh..."

Timmy abruptly made his way to Russell, snatching the letter in his hand. He looked it over and huffed out in agitation. "Mm, quite, 'oh', indeed."

"Timmy, I'm sorry...is it important?"

Timmy had proceeded to open the envelope and was scanning the contents of the letter. He seemed to arrive at the crucial bit of information, as his arms dropped to his side, his face locked in a sudden state of panic.

"Tim? Timmy?"

"Tomorrow."

"What do you mean, tomorrow?"

"Our interview is tomorrow." Timmy flipped back to the front of the envelope. "This letter arrived two weeks ago, Russell." His voice was sober. "Two weeks, it's been sitting in a garbage can in your apartment." He met Russell's eyes with a look that could kill. "Are you kidding me?"

Russell couldn't speak. He found himself retreating slowly backwards as Timmy inched towards him, growing more infuriated with each step.

"This is the very reason we're in this mess in the first place. If you had filed the necessary paperwork required for my work visa, we wouldn't have had to have gotten married, and I wouldn't be having this conversation right now with an imbecile possessing the intellect of a flea! Do you realize that if I hadn't have had you fish this letter out of the trash right now we may have missed our interview tomorrow and I could have been deported?! Do you understand what this means, Russell? DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

"TIMMY, SHUT UP!"

Much to Russell's shock, Timmy obeyed his order. He grew very quiet, as though he realized what little good his tirade was doing.

"Just calm down. We've been doing those stupid flash cards of yours for the past two months...we've got our story straight, I know all kinds of dumb trivia about you that they'll probably never even ask, it'll be fine..."

Timmy stood frozen. Russell waved a hand in front of his face. Nothing.

"Talk to me, Tim."

"No."

"What?"

Timmy's voice came out practically monotone; menacing. "I really don't feel like talking to you right now. I think if I speak to you much longer I may do something rather rash. For example, I may scream very loudly at you...or I may decapitate you. I haven't quite decided which, yet. I recommend you leave my presence before I arrive at my final decision."

Russell scoffed. "Come on, Timmy."

"I'm not joking."

"...Count to five...?"

"I'm leaning towards decapitation."

Russell scurried quickly away. He snatched several items as he went along.

"Well, where am I supposed to go?"

"I don't care."

"But this is my apartment..."

"I don't care."

"Yeah, but..."

"GET OUT."

Russell left the apartment with a slam of the door, and immediately heard an incoherent, primal yell from Timmy on the other side.

----------

Jen opened the door and gave a slight grimace.

"What the heck are you doing here?"

"Timmy kicked me out."

"Of your own apartment?"

"He's wiry but when he's angry you skedoodle, trust me, and he is angry. Not that I'm...scared of him or anything, you know, I mean, he just knows all that Eastern...magic voodoo...witchcraft stuff, probably. "

"What are you talking about?"

"He threatened to cut off my head."

"Ohhh, so you fudged up royally."

He hissed out through his teeth, "Sssssort of."

The two entered the apartment and Jen yelled down the hall.

"Adam, Ellen DeGeneres is here!"

A yell back. "Wait, like...Ellen Ellen, or Russell Ellen?"

"It's Russell! Why would the real Ellen be at our apartment?"

Adam came out of the bedroom with a somewhat disappointed look on his face. "Oh. Well, I submitted that video of Mambo again in the pirate outfit. I'm telling you, Jen, she's gonna use it!"

"She doesn't show up at people's homes, Adam!"

"Jen, that is a great video...he's dressed as a pirate, I'm dressed as a bird, he's sitting on my shoulder, it's like some mad universe where everything's gone awry, how can Ellen not love it?! She'll be busting down our door for that video, honey!"

Russell coughed loudly and began talking to himself. "Oh, look! It's our dear friend Russell, and he's come a'visiting! He seems rather distraught about something, let's discuss the stupidest thing we can possibly imagine while he stares sadly at the walls!" He turned and faced a wall until Jen walked back over towards him.

"Okay, fine, why is Timmy mad at you?"

Adam joined the human world, temporarily forgetting about birds. "Is this because you were being a real ass this morning?"

Russell shifted eyes. "Wait, what?"

"Well, I mean, we saw Timmy at the diner earlier. You've gotta stop treating him like he's your assistant, man, it wasn't really cool ordering him around like that when he was your assistant, and he's your boyfriend husband type...thing...now."

Russell shook his head. "No, not that. Well, yeah, that, but..."

"Yeah, seriously, Russell," piped in Jen, "it's not fair of you to treat Timmy like that. He loves you and he's such a nice guy, I don't think he's good at saying no to your stupid requests, even now. Maybe even especially now, because he wants to please you, he's not doing it for a paycheck anymore. He's doing it because he actually cares about you, don't take advantage of that."

Russell was about to try and discuss the issue at hand again but he paused, processing what Jen had just said. For a moment he looked contemplative; he hadn't thought about it in this light before and it suddenly made sense. He shook the thought away.

"Yeah, but listen, we're past that, something else happened--"

"Oh," said Jen. "You've already screwed up twice today and it's only...1pm, wow. Don't worry, you've still got time to fit a few more in."

Russell growled. "Why did I come over here!"

Adam spoke, motioning for Jen to lay off a little. "Hey, Russell, what's going on?"

"Okay, so...you know his whole green card thing Timmy's been dealing with?"

"Yeah yeah," said Adam. "I know you guys had to do a lot of paperwork, it's a long process, something about changing his citizenship status to a spousal one or something."

"Yeah, that stuff. Okay, well, see, we have to attend a live interview, they're gonna ask us questions, we really don't know exactly how that's gonna go so we've kind of tried to concoct a story that makes sense without being...the actual story, you know? Because it sounds so fishy? Problem with work visa, we immediately get married, we've never been..." he latched two fingers together, "...together before."

"Be careful," cautioned Jen. "Is it really the best idea to lie to these people?"

"We've been going over this like crazy for the last two months, it'll be fine. Plus he found this stupid list of questions online that they could ask, like uh -- what holidays do you celebrate together, what kind of shampoo does your partner use, who takes out the trash, who was at your wedding."

"Heh," Jen sniggered. "It sounds like some kind of trivia game for married couples."

Russell pointed. "That's what I said! It's so lame, and he quizzes me every night over this stuff, and half of it's made up answers because we didn't have like a serious wedding or anything and we've only lived together for a couple of months so duh, of course he does all of the chores."

"At your apartment?" asked Adam.

"Hey, that one's all on him, he sort of insisted. He said I wasn't doing them 'correctly'." Russell reached into both his jean pockets, yanking out two stacks of index cards. "Anyway, these stupid things. I'm so sick of these things."

Jen came and took them. "So he actually quizzes you with these? Like actual flash cards?"

"Yeah."

She began to finger through the cards. "Hey Adam, we should take these over to Jeff and Audrey's and have a game night."

Adam laughed. "Yeah, that's funny."

"No, really! Like...Trivial Pursuit Marriage Edition."

Russell scoffed. "Are you serious? Keep 'em, I don't wanna see them again, if Timmy flips gears that I gave 'em away he can just...I don't know, decapitate me or whatever."

Jen turned back to Russell as Adam took over looking through the cards. "So what's the problem? If you guys have your story straight and you know all this trivia about each other--"

"The interview is tomorrow."

"Wow, really, that soon?"

"We didn't know it was tomorrow. Because, uhm. I. Sort of." He spoke quickly. "Threw away the letter that told us it was tomorrow and we just found it in the trash today."

Adam and Jen looked to Russell with stunned faces and finally, after too long of this for Russell's liking, Adam eked out a rather judgmental, "Ohhh, Russell."

"I know."

Jen asked, "Well, how long ago did you get the letter?"

"Like...two weeks ago?"

"Oh my god, Russell! No wonder Timmy's pissed off at you! Do you know what might have happened if you didn't find that letter in time and you missed the interview?"

"I already got all that from him, okay, I don't need it from you guys!" His voice softened. "Please..." He turned back around and talked to the wall. "I get it, I screwed up again. That's the one thing I seem to be good at in all this, is screwing up."

Jen sighed and walked back to Russell, placing a hand softly to his shoulder. "It was an accident. It...was an accident, right?"

"Of course it was an accident!"

"Then Russell, people make mistakes, all you can do is forgive yourself and own up to it. And if you make fifty million mistakes, you own up to it fifty million times and you hope he forgives you...fifty million times. I've kept a tally on Adam's mistakes, they're getting pretty high up there."

Adam let off a quiet, "Hey..."

"And I've kicked him out of the apartment plenty of times, but the important thing is I always let him back in and we kiss and make up and everything goes back to normal. Timmy'll let you back in."

Russell turned slowly back towards Jen. "What makes you so sure of that?"

"Just trust me on this one, okay? Go home, talk to him. If he threatens to remove any more body parts, hide the knives. Lock the bedroom door. But he'll cool down. You know why I think he's angry, really?"

"Why?"

"Well, maybe he thinks you're not making this a priority. He's scared of getting deported, Russell, why do you think that is?"

"He likes America, I don't know, we're a pretty cool country."

"Well, what does he have here? What's he afraid of losing?"

"Uh, his job."

"Well, sure," said Adam. "But he doesn't have a job right now."

"Yeah," said Jen. "And most of his family is overseas. So right now, right this minute, what does he have to lose?"

Russell looked to them silently until Jen finally answered for him.

"You, Russell. If he gets deported, he loses you."

"And you lose him," added Adam.

"So just maybe it seems like if you're not making this a priority, you're not making you and Timmy a priority."

Russell nodded with a sigh. "Right. Heavy."

"Now go home," said Jen. "You've got an interview to get ready for."

----------

Russell felt stupid knocking on his own door. But he did, and hearing nothing back, creaked the door open slowly and peered inside. Timmy sat on the sofa, hunched over quietly.

Russell made his way slowly to the sofa and sat down next to Timmy.

For some time, neither of them spoke, until finally Timmy's voice came out, barely audible.

"What if we fail the interview?"

"We won't. There's no chance of that happening, you made sure of that."

Timmy didn't reply. Instead he steadied himself upright, coughed, and said jovially, "I saved your food from the diner. It's in the fridge, I can reheat it if you'd like. Have you eaten all day?"

"...Nothing major, I was working a candy stash when you got home. But Timmy, we really need to talk about--"

"Very well, I'll get right on that." Timmy stood and began walking towards the kitchen. Russell followed him, grabbing him firmly by the arms and turning him back around.

"Stop, Timmy, we need to talk about this!"

"There's nothing to talk about! Either one of two things will happen tomorrow. Either life carries on as usual, whatever that presently is, I have yet to figure it out, or I'll be preparing to leave. Either way, you'll be fine."

"Is that what you think?"

Timmy looked to his feet wordlessly.

"God, for a quasi-genius, you're a real idiot sometimes."

Russell wrapped his arms around Timmy, who accepted the embrace. Russell spoke softly in Timmy's ear: "Do you still wanna kill me?"

"Yes."

"Can we take an IOU on that?"

"Very well."

"This is the most romantic conversation we've ever had."

Timmy breathed out a soft laugh and Russell kissed his neck. "Everything's okay. Everything'll be okay."

Neither of them were sure of this, but for the moment they accepted it as truth. And as they set about eating reheated diner breakfast, the world settled back into some sort of normalcy, at least for now; the what-ifs could wait for a little while. Tomorrow would be another story.

Chapter 2: The Interview

Russell and Timmy had been standing outside the door that would decide their fate for a full minute. Every time Russell's hand shot out to open the door, Timmy swiftly knocked it back down. After the fifth or sixth time, Russell turned to Timmy, grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, and forced him to look him square in the eyes.

"The interview can't happen if we don't walk inside, Timmy."

Timmy's voice came out shaking. "Yes. Yes, I know, quite right."

"I'm gonna open the door now, and you're not going to knock my hand down again. Right?"

"Yes, understood."

Russell moved his hand slowly towards the handle; he grabbed the handle; he started to turn the handle; Timmy pushed his hand down.

"Timmy!"

"I know I'm behaving irrationally, but you don't understand, I...I'm frightened."

This wasn't a startling confession; of course Timmy was frightened, but somehow Russell was surprised to hear him actually say it out loud. He checked his watch. "We're not late yet." He led Timmy a few feet away from the door, and watched the younger man's face twist as if he were about to cry. "Timmy, it'll be fine. We've got our story straight, we know what we're doing, we're fine."

"I don't want to leave. I'm not ready to leave, I worked so hard to get to this place in my life, what if this is the end?"

"You're not going anywhere!"

"I don't think you've even stopped to consider the possibility, Russell. Perhaps it hurts too much for you to think about...but I could be deported, we might not see each other again for quite some time, if anything were to go wrong..."

Both of them grew very quiet, and Timmy wrapped his arms firmly around Russell; Timmy rarely initiated displays of affection, and for a moment Russell was taken aback, stunned, but he gratefully returned the embrace.

"If anything happens, Russell," Timmy's voice came out broken, "please rest assured that I love you. Despite everything we've been through--as much as I hate your guts and so frequently wish to beat the ever loving daylights out of you--as much time as I've spent envisioning ways in which I might take my retaliation and elaborately torture you at great lengths--"

"Okay, Tim, geez. You have a real way with words." Russell squeezed Timmy a little tighter. "But I love you too." He coughed, trying to make himself the strong one in this situation -- a role reversal, to be sure -- and pulled back from Timmy. He touched a hand to his cheek gently. "It's okay. We've got this."

----------

The woman across from them was middle aged, plump, with dark hair and sweet eyes. They felt at ease with her, somehow, and were grateful to be facing this person as opposed to some stuffy suit.

"So, it's...Timir Patel and Russell Dunbar?"

"Yes, ma'am, that's correct," spoke Timmy.

"What a lovely accent. You're from South Africa?"

"Yes, but you see I developed the accent as I studied abroad."

Russell laughed. "That's funny, I studied a broad or two in my time but I never picked up any fancy accents from it. Well, maybe when I dated that Russian chick."

Timmy shot Russell a dirty look, eliciting an apologetic sneer. He had almost immediately fallen into using humor to deflect; Timmy had expected this and he abruptly dropped it, but was ready to pounce at the first sign of Russell misbehaving.

It seemed an odd juxtaposition from the heartfelt moment they had shared only minutes ago outside the building, but such was the nature of their relationship.

"So...tell me a little bit about yourselves. How did the two of you meet? I have here that you, Timir, worked for Russell for some time, is that right?"

Timmy was caught off guard. With this simple query, he sensed the meeting was deviating from his game plan. "You have that information?"

"Well, yes, it's in your record here. You were employed with Dunbar Industries for a number of years...are you the owner of that establishment, Mr. Dunbar?"

"Uh, my father, Franklin Dunbar, actually. I'm the...uhm...uh..."

"Project Director," offered Timmy.

"Right, it's a pretty important job, I...direct.......projects."

"So your father owns the company, then? In what capacity was your husband employed with the company?"

"He was my assistant."

"Ohhh. Well then, how does your father feel about you marrying your former assistant?"

"Uh -- well, he doesn't...exactly...we haven't really talked about it, I don't really see much of my father, he's a pretty busy executive, he doesn't like to admit I'm his son, that whole kit and kaboodle, you know, he's a..." Russell chuckled lightly, "...he's a fun guy."

"Is he aware of the relationship?"

Russell's voice grew high pitched. "Not...exactly?"

"I see. And so I take it Timir's recent departure from the company has something to do with this relationship?"

Russell was losing control, and he shot Timmy a panicked look. They hadn't rehearsed this line of questioning, despite being perhaps the most obvious of them all. Sensing Timmy was too stunned to speak, Russell sucked it up and continued taking the reigns.

"Uh, yes, Timmy did work for me until recently. He quit out of a conflict of interest when it became clear that our relationship was developing into something...shall we say, unsuitable for the workplace."

"So when did Mr. Patel terminate his employment with you?"

"Uhm, two...and a half months ago?"

The interviewer looked confused. "So the relationship began two and a half months ago, and you've been married for approximately that long? Am I understanding you correctly?"

Timmy tried very hard to contain a groan.

"Allow me to clarify further. You see, ah...when Mr. Patel and I got together..."

Timmy interjected. "You see, we were actually together for quite awhile, but it was a good deal undercover, as it were, to avoid any inter-office conflicts that may have arisen from our involvement with one another."

Russell and Timmy exchanged frustrated looks, and then looked back to the interviewer with broad, plastered on smiles.

"Well...which is it? How long were you together, guys? It really can't be both. One of you isn't telling the story right." She smiled. "Maybe you should have rehearsed a little better?"

Timmy leaned over to Russell with a whisper: "Wait, what had you said?"

Russell put a hand against his mouth and mumbled in Timmy's direction. "Let me handle this."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Timmy, let me handle this."

"No, I really don't think--"

"Let me handle it!"

They looked back to the interviewer with broad smiles again, and Russell spoke.

"Uh -- when the love of my life over here Timmy says it had been going on for awhile, he's right. But...well, it just wasn't official, you know what I'm saying, it was...well, it was purely sexual, you know how it is, meeting in broom closets, rendezvous over lunch hour--"

"Oh dear me," declared Timmy.

"And he was a passionate little lover, this one. So many times I said to him...'Timmy,' I said, 'we can't keep doing this!' But he had the unbridled lust of a young virgin girl on prom night and he wasn't one to take no for an answer, oh-ho-ho, believe you me, he was--"

"Russell!"

Russell leaned back in with more whispering. "I've got to make it convincing!"

"By making me sound like a horny school girl who can't do any better than you?!"

"What do you want me to say? Like it's somehow more believable that I'd come on to you like the horny little school girl?!"

"Well, perhaps, yes, because that's precisely what happened!!"

The interviewer put up a hand. "You two do know that I can hear everything you say?" They turned to her, sinking slowly back into their chairs. "Now...I notice you two aren't wearing any wedding bands."

Timmy and Russell looked to their hands. Timmy closed his eyes, calling himself stupid inside his head. How could he have forgotten something as obvious as rings? As detail oriented as he had been, how could he have overlooked such a stupidly simple detail?

"We're saving up for something nice," shot Russell with a grin. "Something sparkly, he does like the sparkles!" Timmy rolled his eyes. "Plus, you know, in the corporate world, sometimes it helps to appear unattached. Female clients respond well to me as a bachelor about town."

Timmy let out a loud guffaw, covering his mouth quickly. He looked to the interviewer, wide-eyed. "Oh, I'm so dreadfully sorry." He looked up, trying to regain composure. "Yes...the ladies...love...Mr...Dunbar. Naturally if they were to find out he was married it would be a liability of sorts and--" He turned to Russell. "No, that's the limit, my brain literally cannot process this, it may result in an aneurysm."

They had ceased their whispering now, taking to arguing out loud. "Come on Timmy."

"Me come on? You come on! How many sexual harassment cases on record now, somewhere between 5 and 500? Maybe I should have you wear a ring, you might fare better. 'Oh but he's a married man, so the groping was surely all in good jest!'"

"You and I both know those chicks are all full of it! So I stare at a little sweater candy, I make a few comments! The only person I ever really sexually harassed at that office was you, and you liked it!"

"FELLAS."

Timmy recovered himself quickly. "I'm so dreadfully sorry, ma'am."

She eyeballed the two of them slowly. "Okay, now listen. Somebody'd better start coming clean, and somebody'd better do it fast."

Timmy leaned forward and spoke earnestly. "I do sincerely apologize for the both of us. Our behavior is entirely out of line. I assure you, ma'am, despite the suspicious appearance of the timeline, and our deplorable presentation here today, we actually are a couple...sort of..."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that. The way you're arguing, you sound like the oldest, bitterest married couple in the world. Still, I think an explanation is in due order, here."

Russell spoke up. "The explanation is that I'm an idiot."

The interviewer nodded. "Yes, I had that pegged from the start. Continue."

"See, I was supposed to return some paperwork--"

"Russell..."

"Timmy, just let me talk, okay?"

Timmy sat back nervously, allowing Russell to continue.

"It was my fault that Timmy's work visa got all snafued, so...I did the only thing I could do to keep him here, which was marry him. Because I couldn't handle losing him. Before all that happened..." He looked to Timmy. "...I loved him, I just...I hadn't told him. It took marrying him for me to break the ice."

Russell looked to the interviewer, leaning in close. "Look, if that's not good enough, if that somehow makes this marriage a sham or illegitimate or what the hell ever, that's fine, cool, whatever."

"No, it's...it's really not cool," said Timmy.

"But I'm not letting anybody take him away from me. If he gets deported...I'm going with him."

"What?"

Russell stood, facing Timmy. "I've been thinking about this a lot. I mean, what's keeping me here?"

"Your home, your job, your family and friends, everything you've every known."

"Aside from all of that!"

The interviewer coughed, regaining the attention of the men.

"As touching a display as this is...please sit down, we can talk about this. I don't believe there's any need to discuss deportation at this venture -- but let's talk."

Russell sat back down. He leaned towards Timmy. "I meant that, though."

Timmy smiled shortly with a nod.

"Now let me just ask you two a few questions about your present situation, get a better idea of what's going on, okay? Now you said you got married after the problem arose with his visa so that he wouldn't get deported, I understand that. I'm a little shaky on when the relationship started, but I think what's most important to your specific case is establishing the relationship as it stands now. Are you two living together?"

"Sort of," eked out Timmy.

"For how long?"

"I've been essentially living with Russell since, oh, the week after we were married. I mean I still keep my apartment but...yes, primarily we're living together."

"But you live together as a married couple?"

"What...precisely do you mean by that?"

"You share chores, meals, you sleep together?"

Russell and Timmy looked to one another, and Russell jumped back in before Timmy could respond.

"Define 'sleep together'." He raised a brow suggestively, to which Timmy placed his hands to his face in exasperation.

The interviewer raised an eyebrow back in Russell's direction. "I suppose that answers my question. So aside from...certain activities, do the two of you get on well?"

Both men's faces contorted in such a way that the interviewer had her answer. "I'll just assume that what I'm seeing here today is a fair indication of how the two of you get along on a day to day basis?"

Timmy jumped. "Oh, I don't want to give that impression. I mean, we quarrel, we always have, it's sort of the foundation of our relationship if you will, but we're actually the best of friends when you catch us at the right time...what is it, opposites attract, do they say?"

"Yes, this is perhaps the clearest case I've ever seen of that. Russell, do you have anything to say about that?"

"What, about how we get along?"

"Yes, about that."

Russell looked to Timmy as if for guidance, and upon receiving none, fumbled for words. "Uhm...well, we...it's tough. Maybe I'm not the easiest guy to get along with sometimes." He laughed in such a way that it was clear he was putting up a wall. "But...well, when we're together, you know, just hanging out, I feel like I'm home. And...I don't think I've ever really felt that way before, honestly." He bit a lip. "Sorry, that didn't really answer the question..."

Timmy had reached over, grabbing Russell's hand almost instinctively.

The interviewer smiled. "No, I actually think that answered my question rather well. Just a few more questions, okay? Now, you go by Timmy, then?"

"Timmy, yes."

"Are your parents aware of this marriage?"

"Oh...uhm, no. No, they aren't aware of our relationship at all as it presently stands. But do allow me to explain, I have a legitimate reason for keeping it from them. You see, my parents being Indian and very much traditionalists...well, they have met Mr. Dunbar in the past and they liked him as a person, but in their eyes homosexuality isn't exactly...how shall I put this...well, I'm rather fearful of how my parents may react."

"So there are cultural barriers at play, here."

"Yes, very much so. Uhm, my sister knows, she very much supports us, I just...I've discussed it with her at rather great length and I'm afraid telling our parents has been something we're not prepared to do just yet."

"I can understand that. Now...listen, fellas. What I see here is a fairly mismatched couple. We have an age gap, cultural differences, a severe personality clash, I could easily call this a bluff, but that's clearly not the case here. In the short time you two have been in my office, you've shown clear signs of being in an honest to goodness relationship. What I want to know is, did you enter into this marriage with the intention of staying married? Because when I hear 'married for a green card' we need to tread carefully. I like you boys, so here's what I'm gonna do. What I want to see is the two of you look each other in the eyes right here, right now, and tell each other that you want to be married, no ifs ands or buts. Not for a green card, but because you love each other. You do that, and I'll let you guys walk out of here with my seal of approval and we'll see about moving forward with all of this."

Timmy cocked his head to one side. "You mean...a sort of declaration of love, as it were? Right here, right now? That seems a tad unusual."

"Well, I myself am a tad unusual. You could have gotten Steve down the hall, he's the stuffy one. You lucked out, you got me. You might not have been so lucky with Steve."

Russell scoffed. "Well, geez, is that all? Well, let's get the hell out of here then."

Timmy seemed less confident. "Uhm, yes. Yes, of course."

The men stood up, facing one another. The air grew heavy, and there was suddenly an uncomfortable silence between them. Russell could tell Timmy wasn't on board with what was happening. He chose to overlook this fact; the foreign set of eyes staring at him made him nervous, however, and locked up his lips. Timmy chose to speak first.

"Russell, uhm. I do want to be married to you, and not just for a green card, and the reason why is..." He seemed to be thinking, scrambling through his brain for words. Anything. Say something. "Russell, when I came to this country, I was alone. I knew nobody, and I thought I was fine. Fiercely independent. And then you threw a bagel at me and changed my life forever."

The interviewer interjected: "I'd like to talk to you guys outside this office sometime and get the whole story. Seriously, you two are a piece of work. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, go on."

"Uhm...yes, well, I realized that I needed somebody after all. And although you're not exactly what I had in mind, it seems the fates dealt me a rather strange hand, so...here we are, it's rather too late to turn back, isn't it? I can't quite imagine life without you. So yes...I love you, Russell, and I want to be married to you."

Russell heaved out a sigh. "Wow, okay, well, uhm. Hey, I got down on one knee and asked you to marry me, if that doesn't show I wanted to be married, I don't know what does." He laughed lightly. "But, uh...yeah, I love you and uhm...thanks for catching the bagel. I caught a glance at the guys next to you that day and there were some real dogs in that room, I'd hate to be standing here with one of those other guys right now."

The two shared a genuine smile.

"Well, that's good enough for me. You guys are free to leave."

Timmy turned to the interviewer. "What, really, that's all?"

"Sure thing. I'll just have you guys sign a couple more things, I know, more paperwork, super fun, right? And then you're free to go, and I'll call you when we're ready for the next step. Good job guys, that was almost a monumental disaster but you pulled it out."

Timmy smiled broadly. "Oh, ma'am, thank you so much."

"Hey, just be thankful you didn't get Steve."

----------

Audrey opened the door to Adam and Jen.

"Hey, guys, come on in." She called towards the kitchen. "Jeff, it's Jen and Adam!"

Jeff came out with a beer in hand and a tired face. "Goody goody gumdrops, the gang's all here!"

"Ignore him, he had kind of a rough night between a fussy baby and my morning sickness...or as I like to call it my all the time randomly in the middle of the night, morning, afternoon, and evening sickness."

Jen turned to Adam. "Maybe we can adopt."

"Oh, honey, I don't want to turn you off of this experience, really, it's...it's different for everyone, you might be just fine, and it's actually quite magical, it's...excuse me." Audrey ran quickly towards the kitchen, leaving the others to hear only a lovely retching noise.

Jeff addressed the kids. "This happens all the time. She'll be back in a minute." Some more retching. "Or...two."

Audrey emerged a moment later. "I am so sorry. The doctor says I should be over this part soon, I'm around 10 weeks now and it should be tapering off."

A smile crept over Jen's face. "I think you're starting to show!"

Audrey looked down to her stomach. "The baby's the size of a kumquat right now, I think most of that is ice cream."

Jen tried again. "Uhm, you're glowing?"

"Sweat."

"Oh, come on, Audrey, you worked so hard for this."

"I know I did, and I'm grateful, I really am, but it's really tiring growing a person. Especially with a growing baby and a growing Jeff to take care of already."

"Hey, now," said Jeff. "I may have gained a little post-baby weight, that's to be expected." He looked to his own stomach, then to Adam. "Most of it is ice cream. And bacon."

"Do they make bacon flavored ice cream?" asked Adam.

"Oh, my god," said Jeff. "Google."

"Hey!" Audrey snapped. "I'm supposed to be the one with the weird pregnancy cravings, here."

"I hear what you're saying," said Jeff. "And you can have some of the bacon ice cream, but the first step is Google."

Audrey thought. "Yeah, okay, Google."

Jen grabbed Audrey's arm. "Listen, as great as that sounds, I have something even better. Russell came by yesterday and he gave us these..." She handed Audrey the index cards. "Timmy's been quizzing him on all these questions for that interview they have to take for his citizenship, just stuff about married life. I think they're at the interview right now."

Audrey's eyes went wide. "Wait, like right now, right now?"

"Yeah, it's a long story, I talked to Timmy last night and he said he'll text and let me know how it goes. I thought it would be a fun little distraction in the meantime if we made a little game out of their study materials. Quiz the guys."

Audrey snickered as she leafed through the cards. "Jeff couldn't answer half of these, I'll tell you right now...yeah, this could be fun."

"Hey now," said Jeff, " I don't like where this is headed, we're losing some of the bacon ice cream passion and drifting towards passion for humiliating Jeff, let me see those things."

Audrey pressed the cards to her chest. "Uh-uh, no. That's not fair if you get to see the questions before we ask."

"Well, you've already seen 'em, if you're trying to make a game out of it, how's that fair?"

"Okay, I won't look anymore. Come on, Jen, let's set up."

Adam and Jeff looked to each other in dread as the women went towards the kitchen.

Jeff addressed Adam flatly: "I blame you for this."

----------

The couples sat around the table. Audrey had surrounded herself with food -- a carton of ice cream, a bag of potato chips, a plate of cake, a 2-litre of soda.

"I thought you were just sick," said Adam.

Jeff put up a hand. "I've learned there are some questions you don't ask."

"Now, try not to get too rowdy, the baby isn't napping all that well lately," said Audrey, adjusting the baby monitor to her side. "And I'm eating for two people, don't forget that. Just because a little bit of it comes back up once in awhile..."

Jeff had grabbed a potato chip; he sneered, putting it back in the bag. "Okay, so how does this uh...'game' work."

Jen placed the cards face down in the middle of the table. "Well, I guess we'll just take turns grabbing cards out of the center. Some of the questions might not exactly apply and we can skip those."

"Do we keep points?" asked Adam.

"I don't know," said Jen. "I'm just kind of figuring this out as I go."

Jeff shook his head. "This is just how I wanted to spend my evening, playing a homemade card game with no rules that I've already been told I have no chance of winning while my wife stuffs her face with food she'll be up all night regurgitating...thanks for stopping by, you guys! It's always a pleasure to see ya!"

Jen rolled her eyes. "Audrey, you go first. Draw a card."

Audrey pulled from the pile. "Okay, it says... how many guests were at your wedding?"

"Too many," said Jeff. "Hey, look at that, I get a point!"

"No," said Audrey, "You have to actually answer. Come on, Jeff, this is an easy one."

"Oh, come on, how am I supposed to remember a head count from 15--"

"16."

"--16 years ago?"

"So no point for Jeff," Audrey said. "And the answer is 107."

Jeff shook his head. "How the heck can you remember such a specific number? 107 people? And who invites 107 people to a wedding, anyway? I mean, I can't even think of 107 people that I like."

Jen spoke. "Well, we're starting to plan for our big family wedding. I made a big list, there's about 300 people on there right now and I'm starting to trim, I think I'll get down to about a hundred."

"Uh-huh," said Audrey, "that's exactly what I did."

The men looked to each other with confused shrugs.

"I don't really care how many people we have," said Adam. "So long as--"

"I swear to god," said Jen, "if you mention the bird so much as one time while we're here, I'm locking you out of the apartment. Timmy taught me some of that Eastern voodoo magic decapitation stuff."

Adam shrank. "Uh...whose turn?"

Jen pulled a card. "Who takes care of paying the bills?"

"Well, that's an easy one," said Adam. "I do, because I make more money."

Jen narrowed her eyes. "Wait, what...?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, I'm the only one with a real job, so..."

"I have a real job."

"Well, you do freelance work, honey."

"That's a real job, Adam."

"I only meant that--"

"Hold steady," said Jeff. "Stay very still, that way she can't see you."

"But I--"

"If she can't see you, she can't attack."

Jen clicked her tongue, setting down the card aggressively. "No point for Adam."

Audrey reached for a card.

"Wait a minute," said Jeff. "Don't I get a turn?"

Audrey was already reading. "Who takes pictures at important family occasions?"

"Define important," said Jeff. "You take pictures every time we go everywhere. Trips to visit your relatives in Nebraska...when we saw the world's biggest ball of yarn. And then the pictures of people eating. Last 4th of July you took pictures of me eating ribs. And then at Christmas you took pictures of me eating pie. And at every birthday ever, you take pictures of me eating cake. And when your aunt Frida was in the hospital, you took pictures of me in the food court. Why do you need ten thousand pictures of me eating, Audrey? You've seen me eating, nobody is attractive when they eat."

Given that Audrey was presently double-fisting ice cream and cake, this was a particularly poor complaint on Jeff's part. She took the card, slammed it firmly against the table, and spoke through a mouthful of food, "No point for Jeff."

Jeff leaned in towards Adam. "This isn't going well for me."

Jen's phone dinged. "Oh, I have a text. It's Timmy!" She looked to the group with excitement. "He says they survived the interview, they're doing great and he thinks he'll get to stay in the country!"

There was a general sense of excitement around the table, and a sense of relief from the men that perhaps this news had diverted attention away from the aggravation growing towards them.

And then Jen began to reach for another card.

"Please don't grab a card," Adam begged.

Jen grabbed a card.

"Have you ever had houseguests sleep over?"

Adam thought. "Uhm...no, I don't think we have."

"Think carefully, Adam."

"I am thinking, honey, and I can't think of anybody."

Jen's smile looked fit to kill. "How about your mother the nudist?"

"Oh...well, yeah, one time."

"And how about your ex-girlfriend who traipsed through our apartment flirting up and down with you like a dirty little trollop?"

"Okay, now it wasn't like that and you know it, and we talked about that."

"Have I ever invited my dad over to strip for you, Adam?"

"Why...why would you?"

"Because then maybe you would know how I felt! NO POINTS, ADAM!"

The women stood together and stormed towards the bedroom, leaving the men stunned.

Audrey had forgotten the baby monitor was on, and for a moment the men listened to the women spout off a string of jumbled cursing before Jeff leaned across the table and flicked it off.

"Audrey's hormones are all out of whack," he said. "And uh, Jen being a lady...I suspect she picks up on...that sort of...thing. I recommend staying far away from women when they have...hormones."

Adam sighed. "Yeah. Well, at least it sounds like things went okay for Russell and Timmy today, he's not getting deported, I guess."

"So then those two are the happiest couple right now," said Jeff with a slight sneer. "Does that not strike you as more than a little...I don't know...bat shit insane?"

----------

It had been a long day. After the interview, Russell and Timmy had walked out of the office feeling the lightest they'd been in their marriage, as if suddenly nothing was looming over them. This was a particular relief for Russell, being the one to blame for the burden, and in a certain recess of Timmy's mind he was out of the perpetual doghouse, at least on this one, at least until further notice. Things had ended awkwardly on the question of wanting to be married, but they had somehow shoved this down in favor of spending the rest of the day on pure silliness -- ice cream in the park, an arcade, taking in a movie, a bit of drinking, and for once in their relationship they forgot to keep up appearances in front of others. They were suddenly a certifiable couple. Russell had perhaps kissed Timmy once or twice in front of strangers. Timmy had perhaps allowed this to happen. A random asshole on the street had yelled out "fags!" and unlike in years previous, past the slur of choice the random asshole was correct, and rather than feeling embarrassed for being mistaken as a couple, they had felt frustration at the person's candor and prejudice. Things were changing.

They sat up in bed together now, tipsy from a night of drinking and high off of what could only be defined as a true to life date.

Timmy found himself stroking Russell's leg instinctively. "You know, I had a nice time. I was truly dreading today and honestly, I've had the most fun I've had in...oh, I really don't know how long."

"Could get more fun," Russell's voice slithered out suggestively.

Timmy smirked. "Whatever could you mean by that?"

"Well, uh, since we passed that interview today with flying colors, how about we make some a-colors fly, Tim...if you catch my drift..."

Timmy looked around carelessly, feigning stupidity. "Oh, would that be a sexual proposition, Mr. Dunbar?"

"Would that be a--" Russell huffed with a roll of his eyes. "Well, geez, I don't know Tim, let me think really hard on that."

"Ha! Really hard."

Russell fought back a laugh.

"Do you get it, because--"

"Yes, Timmy, I get it. Are we really back to the everything being a sexual innuendo stage? I know we've been a little dry, are you seriously that sexually pent up or am I just starting to rub off on you?"

Timmy waited, resisting. Finally he replied with a slight snigger, "That was another one."

Russell laughed, "Yeah, that was another one. So...?"

Timmy waited a beat, silently staring at Russell with a blank face.

"Tim? Well, okay, if you don't want to, I mean--"

Suddenly Timmy attacked, jumping atop Russell, legs straddling his sides, and pinned him against the headboard with a firm kiss.

Russell eked out through Timmy's lips, "Oh, okay, this works." He pressed his hands against Timmy's hips and set naturally into a light rhythmic thrust as their mouths worked together, until Timmy broke away, setting about down the length of Russell's chest, lifting up his shirt, tracing with his fingers and placing kisses. It was out of place for Timmy to be the aggressor and Russell laughed from shock. "Wow, God, what's gotten into you?"

"How would you like to get into me?"

"Ohhh, fuck!"

When suddenly, Timmy's phone rang; he grew distracted. Shit, shit, shit.

"No no no no no, ignore it, Timmy..."

The kisses to Russell's chest were slowing down.

"Timmy, I'm serious, don't do it..."

The phone was still ringing.

"Timmy!"

He dismounted and grabbed the phone.

Russell stared blankly outward, wide-eyed, stunned.

Timmy's voice came across the phone casual and relaxed. "Hello? What's that?" He looked to Russell. "It's Jeff."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Yes? What, he did?"

"I just got cock blocked by Jeff, are you serious?"

"Oh, terribly sorry about that. Yes, well. Mm." Timmy sucked in his lips, covering the mouth piece as he spoke to Russell. "You gave him the flash cards?" Normally this might have upset Timmy, but his response was unphased; his mind was still on other things, his brain still floating on alcohol.

Russell was still staring mindlessly into space.

"What's that, Mr. Bingham? Oh, yes, the interview went quite well. Yes, I don't think we'll have any problem at all moving forward. Thank you very much. Goodnight, sir, and again, terribly sorry, I'll be sure to tell him off straight away."

Having ended the call, Russell let off a sigh. "What did he want?"

"Well, mostly he just seemed frustrated with me for something you did. He says to take our flash cards and, as he so eloquently put it, shove them where the sun don't shine."

"Huh."

For a time there was an uncomfortable silence. Finally Timmy said softly, "I shouldn't have answered."

"No, probably not."

"Where were we?"

"Kinda busted the mood, Tim."

"What if I--" he leaned into Russell's ear and whispered deeply with heated breath. Russell's eyes widened.

"That'd do it." And with that he jumped onto Timmy, pulling the blanket over them.

It was a good night.

Chapter 3: The Note

When Timmy woke up the next morning, he reached for Russell; he wasn't there. Timmy sat up in bed groggily, rubbing eyes, regaining composure. He felt happy. Everything was okay with the world this morning.

Yesterday, at the end of the interview, he'd been asked a question that he had been markedly unsure of: did he really want to be married to Russell? In his heart, he still knew he wasn't sure of the answer, but this morning he was less unsure than he had been yesterday. He couldn't pin down what was happening. A little over two months ago, he had walked out of Russell Dunbar's office, feeling great pride in his decision to move forward with his life apart from him. But even then he had felt a pang of separation anxiety; he had stolen items from his former boss's office, he had clung to bits and pieces of him. Now here he was moving forward in the opposite way, moving towards Russell rather than away from him. He wanted to be with him. He was getting used to the familiar sensation of waking up in Russell's bed after having slept next to him, and there was a certain security in this. And yet there was still always an uncertainty nagging at him, urging him to question every ounce of happiness he dared allow himself to feel in this situation.

"Morning."

Russell returned to the bedroom with two cups of coffee.

"Think I made it right," he said as he handed Timmy a cup.

Timmy took a sip and smiled with a nod. "Yes, perfect, thank you, sir." He grimaced. "Russell. I really must get over that."

Russell laughed softly. "It's okay. Hey, Tim, uh...I've been thinking."

"That's rather dangerous territory, don't you think?"

"Yeah, yeah. Listen...you haven't slept in your apartment in what, three weeks?"

"Probably that long, yes. I know what you're going to suggest, Russell. I've been thinking about it too, and I--"

"Give me a chance. Listen, after you fell asleep last night I went back out--"

"When was this?"

"You were zonked, you didn't notice. Anyway, I went down to that little pawn shop a few blocks down...not exactly top of the line, but it's the only thing open at that time of night, so um. Well, I grabbed a couple of things..." Russell was tapping the side of his coffee cup nervously.

"What? What is it?"

Russell reached over to his nightstand, opening up the drawer and securing two small objects in the palm of his hand. He held his fist closed tightly. "You're gonna think this is really stupid, it probably is, I probably shouldn't have done this. Yeah, no, I was...I was a little bit drunk, we'd been messing around and I was feeling kind of good, it's dumb."

Timmy smiled, nudging Russell in the side. "No, please. Show me, I want to see." He grabbed Russell's fist with his free hand, and his fingers relaxed, opening slowly to reveal two rings. Timmy's smile dropped. "Oh."

Russell felt panic rising in his chest, unable to read Timmy's expression. "I told you, it's stupid. Yeah, I'm sorry, you don't have to take it. It's just with what that lady said at the interview, and then I just--"

"No, it isn't stupid, on the contrary, I...I'm touched."

Russell's heart began to slow back to a normal pace.

"But you know what this means. Symbolically, a ring generally indicates a certain level of exclusivity and this has still been sort of a touchy subject for us..."

Russell nodded in recognition of this fact as Timmy continued.

"We swore that if anything has happened outside of this apartment, we wouldn't discuss it...and Russell, the rings would sort of...well..."

"Yeah, I know all that, but...well, I don't know, I guess I just..."

"I haven't."

Russell heaved a breath. "You mean, uh--"

"I haven't been with anybody else, not since that first week, no. I don't know why exactly, I suppose it's just the reality of the situation. Not that I haven't wanted to, mind you. It's alright, I don't expect the same of you. Women are a staple of your reality, it would be like asking the fox to stay out of the chicken coop."

"Yeah, well, I won't lie...at first it was tough. I thought about it, a million times I thought about it...I made dates on the fly, went out a few times. After awhile I couldn't. Every time I got close something weird happened and I uh...thought about you." Their eyes met sharply. "Try explaining that to a chick who's ready to go. 'Sorry, I can't get it up, I don't wanna cheat on my husband.'"

Timmy couldn't bring himself to formulate a response. Finally Russell couldn't stand the silence.

"So hey, just wear the damn ring, okay?"

"Yes, alright."

Timmy grabbed the smaller of the two rings and placed it on his finger. "It fits."

"Luck."

Timmy grabbed the second of the rings and, grabbing Russell's hand, slipped it onto his finger.

Russell examined his finger with a curious expression. "It's like we just got married for real," he mused.

"We are married for real."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, well..." Timmy took a beat, sipped his coffee slowly. Then, with a lace of smarm he uttered: "Would you like to seal this union with a kiss?" He shook his head. "I can't believe I just said that, that's the most ridiculous thing I could have possibly--"

Russell wasted no time in taking a kiss, and the men smiled at one another. Cornball, yes, but there it was. Russell continued with his initial thought, his voice growing strangely nervous.

"So, yeah...you, uh, haven't really been back to your place in a long time and I was thinking, I guess this is sort of a proposal of a different kind..."

"Yes?"

"Move in with me. I mean, suck it up and bring your stuff here and just admit you've basically moved in anyway. I like it when you're around, Tim, and when you're not, I'm not liking that so much. So...maybe we should just think about taking the plunge already."

Timmy sipped his coffee, leaning back softly in bed. "Well..." He peered over at Russell, finding his face priceless; gentle and pleading in his simple way, like a child nervously asking for something he wanted in a store window. Timmy tried to keep a poker face, but found his smile creeping back on, and he nodded. "Yes. Alright, I've been thinking about this and I told myself that if the interview went well I'd make a decision. I called my landlord yesterday--"

Russell wrapped his arms around Timmy.

"Hot coffee!" Timmy swiftly navigated his arms. "You're insane. Is this the part where I say I love you for the hundredth time?"

"Grah, I love you, my little caramel creampuff!"

"We'll have to work on the pet names, Russell."

----------

Russell came into the office flying high. There was a stack of paperwork on his desk -- he didn't care. The next in a line of disgruntled assistants had left his resignation letter stapled to the door -- he didn't care. He and Timmy were happy today, for once in their time together everything seemed to be going their way and nothing was going to shake that for him.

When Adam came by a couple of hours later, knocking on his window, Russell left his desk, waving him inside. Adam yanked on the resignation letter, still stapled to the front of Russell's door.

"Ah, yeah, that. Guess it's back to the old drawing board. Or I don't know, maybe I don't need an assistant, anyway. I can handle stuff around here on my own. Already got through most of the backlog today, not even sure what else I have to do. Any meetings today? You have some work for me? Rgh, I need something to do!"

"Hey, hey, hey, slow down, take a breath! What, are you jacked up on too much coffee or something?"

Russell straightened his tie and shook himself loose. He looked ready to snap like a jumping bean. "I just feel good, y'know? Don't you ever just have one of those days where you feel good?"

Adam grinned. "Hey yeah, I heard the interview went well, so everything's okay with Timmy?"

"Ah, yeah, why would anything be wrong with Timmy?"

"Well, the whole decapition thing."

"Well, my head's still on, isn't it?" he asked a bit too jovially.

Adam examined Russell for a good while, trying to pin down his excitement. "Did you get lucky?"

Russell ceased his shaking, and sneered in Adam's general direction.

"Nah, this isn't you getting lucky, I've seen that a lot, and this isn't that. I mean, for most people yeah, they get a little giddy after sex, but I think you got immune to that after awhile. Yeah no, this is something else. Why are you acting so weird?"

"Pft. I'm not acting that weird, am I?"

"Dude, you finished a desk full of work and you asked me for more."

Russell was coming to. He walked to his desk in shock, rummaging through the paperwork. "Wait, did I...? Oh my god, I've wasted the whole day!" He ran to his computer. "Porn, I need porn. Sweet, cleansing porn..."

Adam smiled. "I know what this is."

"What?"

"Come on, you know." His voice went sharp. "You're high on love!"

"Oh, come on, gay."

"Yeah, gay love!"

Russell glared Adam down.

"Come on, Russell, admit it. The interview went pretty good, you guys made up, huh? Am I right? I nailed it, didn't I?" Russell's silence was enough confirmation. Adam squeeked like a little girl. "You know, I knew you guys would be okay, I knew it."

"Yeah, well...listen, it's still weird talking about all of this."

"Don't let it be weird, man, if it wasn't Timmy, if it was a woman, would it be weird?"

"Frankly...yeah, it would be a little weird. I don't sit around gabbing about how it's going at home with the missus...or the mister, whatever. I brag about sexual exploits, I'm the fantasy, I'm not the lame reality. Dude, do I strike you as a marriage type? This is the second time I've been in this rodeo and I still don't know."

"Yeah, I hear you. But you're married now, and I don't think this is anything like Liz, this is different. I mean, you weren't drunk in that hospital."

"I...was a little drunk, yeah."

"Liz drunk?"

Russell scoffed. "Hell no, not Liz drunk."

"Not the same thing, then. You joined the club, man, embrace it."

Russell sighed. He walked to Adam with a shrug and shot out his hand, exposing the new ring on his finger.

"Oh my god, you put a ring on it?"

"Stupid."

"It's not stupid!" Adam's smile looked about ready to jump off his face, his voice raising in pitch with every word. "God, this is so exciting!"

"You really are the chick in the relationship. You know that, don't you?"

"Hey, now...no, I'm not."

"Ask Jen, she'll tell you."

"Yeah, well, maybe I could if your flash cards hadn't gotten me in such hot water last night."

"Yeah, I heard about that."

"When?"

"Jeff called last night," Russell grumbled. "Talk about almost being a total cock blocker. Hit that one out of the ballpark though, o-ho-ho, yeah I did." He paused; he winced. The men stared at one another silently for a few moments before Russell chose to change the topic. "So, why'd you come in here...?"

"Oh, yeah..." Adam pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "Somebody left a message for you down at the front desk, guy sent it up with me."

"Why'd he send it up with you?"

"Dog knows we're tight, broseph!"

"Don't...don't talk like that." Russell took the paper and read aloud in confusion. "Emily stopped by, didn't leave message." He flipped the paper over, looking for more. "What, that's it?"

"That's pretty cryptic, do you know an Emily?"

"I don't think so...I'll ask Timmy, he's the one who keeps logs of the ladies I've ransacked."

"Why would a random girl you've had sex with stop by the office and leave a message saying she wasn't leaving a message?"

Russell shook his head. "Maybe it's a practical joke."

"Pretty lame practical joke. I gotta get back to work, man, let me know if you figure it out."

"Yeah...will do, 'broseph'."

After work, Russell did indeed have Timmy bemoaningly look into the name Emily. Russell called several girls answering to the name, only to be called a "sleaze," "perv," and "that horny midget from the subway that grabbed my tit," before being violently hung up on by each possibility. The note remained a mystery.

----------

Two weeks had passed since the interview and the symbolic gesture of the rings, and on the surface, things seemed to be transitioning nicely. Timmy was in the slow process of moving into Russell's apartment. Their styles clashed awkwardly but it was a reflection, then, of the awkward clash that was their relationship.

It came one day that Jen was helping Timmy move in the last of his things. Russell and Adam were both at work, and she had nothing better to do that day (being a freelancer and all -- stupid Adam), so she had offered. She sat down a box and noticed Timmy staring at a wall of photographs; family photos. He seemed despondent and she walked to him, speaking softly.

"Timmy, is everything okay?"

"Do you want the honest answer?"

"Versus what?"

He looked at her with a sigh. "Versus the answer I keep giving Russell."

She put an arm around his shoulders. "Come on, is it really that bad?"

"I haven't spoken to my parents in nearly two months. I tried for awhile, but lying to them...that was the hardest part, I couldn't keep that up. They'll probably disown me. And it's not just that..."

"Well, you can talk to me. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Timmy creaked out an incoherent sound of aprehension. "No, I don't think so."

"Oh, come on, we're friends, friends can talk to one another."

Timmy studied Jen's face. She radiated warmth and friendliness. He found himself speaking without much thought. "What if I'm making the biggest mistake of my life?"

"Oh. Well...well, why do you think that?"

"Look at what I'm doing, I'm moving all of my possessions into this piece of modern dreck, I'm likely sacrificing my relationship with the majority of my family, I've been out of work for months, and for what, Jen, what is all of this for?"

"For Russell."

"Yes, for Russell." His voice was harsh. "Is Russell worth all of this?"

"Wow...Timmy, I can't answer that question for you. You love him, don't you?"

Timmy looked at his pictures on the wall; a portrait of his family to one side, a picture of him and Russell to the other. What a trite, pathetic representation of his present dillema. What had she just asked him?

"Yes. Yes, I love him. It's just that I hate him." Timmy shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I think we've all been there. When you first get in a relationship, I mean really serious like this, it changes things. It's just changing things for you a lot more than it does for some people. I'm sorry about your parents. Maybe it won't be as bad as you think?"

"I'm not sure that's a risk I'm willing to take."

"I know this isn't the same thing at all, but if it helps even a little, Adam's parents were actually angry that we got married. They're hippies, he grew up on a commune. His mom wanted us to just keep living together, she thinks it's more spiritual. She's mad that I made Adam sign his soul over to the government."

Timmy laughed lightly. "And your parents?"

"They don't really even know Adam all that well, the big wedding is going to be maybe the third time we've all hung out together. Ugh, both of our parents together, that's gonna be a nightmare. Our parents are polar opposites."

"Why bother having a wedding? I thought you were satisfied with how things turned out. Wedding plans have never really gone in your favor previously."

"My parents are kind of insisting. They didn't care up until they found out we actually went through with it and then my mom laid on the guilt trip...how her friends need to see me in the dress, and what kind of crap was I pulling...so I don't know, we're giving it another shot. You guys are gonna be groomsmen."

"Since when?"

"Since Adam forgot to ask you a month ago."

"Ah."

The front door opened and Russell walked in with a whistle and called out with his standard hint of sarcasm, "Honey, I'm home!"

Jen sniggered, patting Timmy on the shoulder before retrieving her arm. "We're over here."

Russell walked over with a slight air of annoyance. He considered embracing Timmy somehow, greeting him with a hug from behind, a kiss, but somehow being next to Jen still made this difficult for him. He looked her over smugly. "Aaand Jen's here."

"Nice to see you too," she replied. "You're welcome for spending all morning helping your husband move in."

He surveyed the situation. "Looks good." His face said otherwise.

Timmy sighed. "No, I'm afraid it doesn't."

"Okay, yeah, it looks like India bombed my apartment with cheap crap."

Jen took a step in the opposite direction, away from the incoming storm.

Timmy popped his lips in frustration, but kept his composure. "Might we perhaps refrain from insulting both my taste and my heritage in one go, do you think that might be in the realm of possibilities?"

"Dude, I was kidding, are you...are you okay, what the hell's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong, everything is just fine, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of unpacking to do. It's only 12:30, usually you're just now getting to work, why on earth are you home?"

"I came back for lunch, I kind of wanted...to see you, wow, monumental mistake. Yeah, I'll go." Russell looked to Jen, who shrugged with a shake of her head. He headed for the door.

Timmy huffed, turned tail, and followed him. "Russell, wait."

Russell spoke softly, confidentially, so as to not blow up in front of Jen. "Seriously, what's your glitch?"

"I'm sorry." Timmy placed a hand to Russell's arm. "You're right, I'm glitching."

"Well. I came home to bring you something, I uh...I got you a housewarming thing." Russell reached into his pocket, pulling out a small wooden figure which Timmy took hold of and examined.

Timmy smiled warmly; the object seemed to magically melt the remaining tension and anger he had been holding in so tightly, and he relaxed with a soft laugh.

"It's an elephant. Because...elephants, India, and everything."

"Yes, I can see that. Thank you, Russell."

Timmy flipped the figure over, finding a neatly etched "T+R" on the elephant's underbelly. "Oh..."

"So you like it?"

"Yes. Yes, I love it." He hugged Russell tightly. "And I love you."

Jen stood in the corner, slack jawed, trying not to gush. Over something Russell was doing. This didn't quite compute for her.

Russell was readying himself to leave when he hesitated, glanced briefly to Jen, then sighed shortly and kissed Timmy; when he pulled away, Timmy leaned into Russell's ear.

"You know, she's seen us do this before."

"Yeah, well, that's my glitch."

Timmy squeezed Russell's hand as he headed out the door. For a time after Russell had left, Timmy stood there in silent contemplation, fingers brushing over the wooden figure in his palm as if it were a great treasure, a key to some deeply guarded mystery. Perhaps it was.

Jen approached Timmy, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I'm gonna confess something to you, something I thought I would never say in a million years. I mean, a billion, trillion years."

"What's that?"

"You guys are cute together. I mean, that was stinking cute."

Timmy smirked. "Thank you for your help today, Jennifer."

"No problem."

"So, where will you be off to now?"

"Oh, as soon as Adam's off work we're going to look at wedding cake."

----------

Adam had been staring at a row of cardboard cakes for the past several minutes. Jen's voice had faded into the background as she chatted with the baker. He'd tuned out somewhere between "lemon buttercream" and "fondant ornamentation".

"I just wanted pie," he mumbled under his breath.

Jen shoved a fork into Adam's mouth. "How does that one taste?"

He spoke through a mouthful. "It tastes good. It's cake, they all taste good, cake tastes good."

"I need a little more input than that, Adam! We need to make this decision together." She turned to the baker as she led Adam away. "Excuse us, please." When they were a safe distance, she spoke pleadingly. "Why can't you be a little more into this?"

"I don't know, Jen, this all just feels a little silly...I mean, we're already married, and...well, I'm a little burnt out on wedding planning. We've been through this a million times, now, I've tasted cake before, like, a million times and we've never actually gotten to the point of having cake at a wedding, and as much as I like free cake samples, there's gotta be a bottom line. We're jinxed, honey, how do we know this time is gonna be any different?"

"I think the difference is that we're married now, Adam. The universe didn't want us to have a wedding before we were married, but now that we are married, we're free to do whatever we want."

Adam thought. "Is that how this whole thing works for us?"

Jen shrugged. "That's how I've had to make it work in my head, I don't know. All I know is my mom won't shut up until we have a wedding."

"Yeah, well, my mom won't be happy no matter what we do, so how do we win?"

"We win by choosing a cake and having this damn wedding once and for all. Everybody comes, gets drunk, dances a little, goes home and we never have to answer 'when are you gonna have a real wedding' ever again. Plus, hey, wedding gifts!"

"I don't know, Jen."

Jen smacked her lips. "Well, we could always just go home. Play some more Couples Trivial Pursuit. Maybe the next card will ask which one of us gets to sleep on the sofa again tonight."

"Okay. Chocolate. Let's get a chocolate cake."

Jen hit him on the shoulder. "There you go! Chocolate it is. Now, we could go with german chocolate, devil's food, red velvet, fudge cake..."

"Oh, god..." She continued listing different varieties of chocolate cake. She just kept talking. How many different kinds of chocolate cake could there possibly be? How many kinds of chocolate cake did the world need? "Seriously, I just wanted pie..."

----------

As evening approached, Timmy logged onto Skype and reached out to his sister, Simran.

She greeted him with a warm smile. "You finally decide to Skype, what took you so long?"

"I'm sorry, you know I would never avoid you like this. I guess I've been in hiding..."

"You've been honeymooning."

"Oh, please, Simran, don't put it that way, this is bizarre enough already..."

"Russell Skyped me, but not you."

Timmy groaned. "Oh, good lord, he didn't."

Simran laughed cheerfully. "He did, but don't panic so much. It was sometime a week or two ago, he was worried about you. He's a real character."

"Yes, that's putting it mildly."

"But he's endearing. I must say, I like having him as my brother-in-law."

"That...still sounds so odd."

"Well, that's what he is. So, you've moved in?"

Timmy looked at his surroundings. "Yes. I feel very displaced, I don't quite know what to do with myself. I know I've been living here, but something about it being official is making me question my sanity all over again. Have you talked to the folks?"

"They're wondering why you haven't called, I can't keep making excuses. You need to talk to them."

"I can't tell them about Russell."

"You don't have to. As far as they know you still work for him and you still harbor what they deem an irrational hatred for him, they don't know anything else."

"But I can't keep lying to them. Eventually I'm going to slip up, and then what will happen? I fear I'm going to have to make some very difficult decisions soon..."

"Please, Timmy, don't let mother and father's beliefs dictate your life...I know how important Russell is to you. Why do you try so hard to deny it? You always have. You know it's time to stop. Marrying somebody and moving in with them generally puts an end to that sort of nonsense..." Timmy averted his gaze away from Simran sheepishly; this was his common response when being lectured by his sister, particularly when he knew she was right. She smiled knowingly. "My brother always has been a stubborn one. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart."

There came a knock on the door. Timmy and Simran said their goodbyes quickly and Timmy jumped to attention, opening the door to a young woman.

She was 20-something, sandy blonde and petite. She looked to Timmy and shrunk slightly.

"I'm sorry, I think I have the wrong apartment."

"Who were you looking for?"

The woman fumbled in her pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. "Uhm, I, uh...do you you know if there's a...a Russell Dunbar in this building?"

"Oh, this is the right apartment."

Her face coiled in confusion. "You...you can't possibly be--"

"Oh! No, he's my husb--uhm, my roommate. I live with him."

She appeared dejected and nervous, and Timmy extended a friendly smile. "Is everything alright?" She seemed reluctant to speak. Timmy's first thought, shamefully, was that perhaps Russell hadn't been quite so forthcoming about his extra-marital affairs. "Is he in some sort of trouble? Did he perhaps stand you up?" She looked towards her feet without a word. "Uhm...one night stand? Did he...are you in trouble?"

Quietly she managed, "My mother."

"Ex-excuse me?"

"He got my mother in trouble."

"Wait...he...wh-what?"

She looked back to Timmy. "My name is Emily."

Timmy sighed out. "Oh! Oh, so you're the elusive Emily." He shook his head. "But I still don't quite understand. Who are you, precisely? What do you mean, he got your mother in trouble?"

The woman closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke evenly, as if she had rehearsed the line a million times: "My name is Emily Swanson, my mother's name is Jessica, and...I think Russell Dunbar is my father."

Notes:

Adam just wants some freaking wedding pie, man. (S7E7)
{Parts of this work are driving me nuts; trying to keep up to par.}
Forwarning that rating is leaning towards E later on.

Chapter 4: Old Familiar Faces

"Russell, this is of the utmost importance, answer your phone and get home immediately, I assure you this is not a drill, there is a situation brewing and it's not one of the variety I can handle on my own. Come. Home. Now." Timmy hung up his phone and swung back around to face the girl still standing in the doorway. He smiled at her nervously, shuffling his feet.

"I'm so sorry, uhm...Emily, yes?"

She nodded.

"I've left Russell a message, he should be home shortly. Won't you please come in?"

"...Who are you, again?"

"Oh yes of course, terribly sorry. My name is Timmy."

Her voice trailed out soft and unsure as she followed Timmy inside. "You're Russell's roommate?"

"Well, yes, we're sort of...ah...this is a bit too complicated to be the first thing you learn about your potential father, Emily, he should be back any minute and then we'll get this all sorted out straight away--"

As if on cue, Russell came through the door, speaking ahead of himself; he failed to take the time to look up and notice their new arrival.

"Hey, Tim, I know you sort of wanted to go out tonight, but I'm really kinda zonked so I picked up that new movie with that actress you like, what's her name, the hot one? I thought we could do the whole movie in bed thing and then maybe while I've got you turned on we could pop some corn under the covers if you know what I--" He chose this moment to look up. "Aaaaand oh my god, there's a strange chick in our living room."

The strange chick's eyes were huge now, darting from Russell to Timmy and back again. It appeared that her mind was heavily processing this moment.

Timmy moved quickly to Russell and yanked him far enough away that they couldn't be heard, still keeping his voice to a whisper.

"This is Emily."

Russell scoffed. "What, her?" he whispered back, "I've never seen this dame before in my life."

Timmy was trying very hard to present himself as cool and collected. He was not cool and collected, but working under Russell had taught him to put on a good show, and as always he was using it to Russell's advantage in this moment -- somebody would have to not freak out.

"I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to remain very calm."

"What are you talking abou--"

"She says she's your daughter."

Russell's eyes shot wide and panicked; he ceased his whispering. "SHE SAID WHAT?!" Timmy slapped a hand firmly over Russell's mouth.

"That's really the opposite of calm. Now I'm going to remove my hand, Russell. Don't scream. Centered breathing." He watched as Russell closed his eyes, and felt him breathe slowly, rhythmically, before removing his hand, assured that he wouldn't panic. He placed a hand to either of Russell's shoulders as his eyes flickered open, meeting Timmy's sympathetic gaze with concentrated dread.

"...My daughter? She said she's my daughter?"

"Yes, that's what she said."

"I...don't have a daughter. I don't have any kids. How could I have any kids, pft, are you kidding me, like, how is that even in the realm of possibilities?"

Timmy suddenly had a headache. "Is this really the time for being in an utter state of denial about the entirety of your life choices? Regardless, this girl might beg to differ with your assessment, and as she's presently watching us quite intently, I suggest you go and speak to her..." Russell's face was wracked in confusion and anxiety. Timmy placed a hand softly to his cheek, urging him to move. "It's alright, go..."

Russell turned in the direction of the girl and froze. Timmy shoved him gently in the back, forcing small steps, until Russell found it in himself to start walking. When he was close enough to the girl for comfort, he spoke.

"Uh...so, hey...there."

She pushed hair behind an ear shyly. "...Hello."

"Uh...E-Emily, is it? You...came by the office. Why...why didn't you come on up?"

"I got nervous."

A long silence. Russell coughed, scratched his neck, and breathed out a heavy breath before asking the pertinent question in his mind: "So, who's your mom?"

"Jessica Swanson."

This wasn't clicking in Russell's head, and Emily could tell. She found her voice, offering up more information in an even, rehearsed tone.

"I was born in 1989...she says you dated off and on for about a year? Uhm...you used to hang out at a place called Ricky's..."

"Oh my god, Jessie! Yeah!"

Emily smiled for the first time, relieved at a sign of recognition.

"We used to sing karaoke together every Wednesday night and then we'd go down to this little motel off the highway and we'd..." He trailed off, examining the potential product of what they would do standing in front of him. "Oh. Ohhh, my god, why didn't she say anything?"

"She said you were, uhm...kind of a sleazeball."

Russell shrugged with a nervous laugh. "Well, yeah, fair enough. But still."

"She got married to my dad and she didn't want me to know, but...I found out so here I am. I'm sorry, I didn't want to intrude on your life, I just..." She looked down. "I just had to know. If you don't want me here, I'll leave."

Russell was unsure of what to do. Whenever the question of paternity had arisen in the past, it had been filled with panic or anger; this was a different situation entirely. This girl was vulnerable, scared, sweet, and standing in front of him wanting seemingly nothing but to know him. He extended a hand towards her, dangling just above her arm, trying to make a decision. He felt much the same way she did, but he didn't want to risk showing it; not yet. Not too soon. He allowed his hand to rest on her arm gently, and their eyes to meet.

"Hey, uh, no." He tried to speak with his standard air of cool, but his voice threatened to shake. "Don't leave, stay awhile. Have you eaten, you need something to eat? Sorry, is that too dad-ish of me? I have no idea what I'm doing here, just...just give me a shot, okay?"

She smiled, relaxing finally. "Okay. Thank you, yes. Yes, I'd like that."

Russell sighed a heavy breath out. He motioned Timmy over. "Hey, Tim, were you gonna make dinner, or...?"

"Certainly. Emily, anything you'd prefer?"

"Oh, whatever you've got is fine."

Russell nodded towards Timmy. "Don't worry, my husband's a great cook."

Emily nodded, and then her smile slowly faded. "...Husband?"

----------

The Binghams sat around their living room, a picture of misery.

Shea was crying. Audrey was crying. Jeff was on the brink of tears.

"What do you need? Heating pad? More ice cream? You know what, I could just cut up some bacon and put it directly in the ice cream, that might work."

"Shut up!"

As if taking a direct order, Shea immediately stopped crying, suddenly fast asleep in her bassinet. Jeff and Audrey looked to her, stunned.

"Not my intended target," muttered Audrey tearfully, "but okay." She walked to the baby and stroked her tiny face gently. "Why is this so hard?"

"You're just...right now it's just...Aud, you're pregnant and the baby's a baby and I'm a useless hunk of junk." He was pretty sure that was the correct thing to say, the only thing he could say without prompting further tears or screaming in this moment.

Audrey looked to Jeff. "Oh...oh, you're so sweet," she said, back on the brink of tears.

Jeff sighed. "Well, I try."

There was suddenly a knock on the door, which Jeff went to answer as Audrey dried her tears with a sleeve, soaking up a string of beautiful snot along the way. Pregnancy was an emotional wonderland.

Jeff opened the door and stood face to face with one of the tannest, brawniest men he'd ever laid eyes on. The man shined a smile, presenting a set of the whitest teeth Jeff had ever laid eyes on.

"Uh, sorry, buddy, we didn't order a male stripper."

A woman shot out from behind the man beast with a flail of her arms. "Surprise!"

"Oh, my god, it's Liz."

"Now, is that any way to greet an old gal pal?!" she asked with a huff.

Jeff spoke flatly. "Sorry. Hello, Liz, what the hell are you doing here?"

"What's with all the shock and awe, I live right on top of you, remember?"

"Well, we haven't seen ya in months, we kind of thought you moved or vanished off the face of the earth, never to be seen again."

"Oh, guffaw. Silly Jeff."

"Yeah, well...one can hope."

"Anyway, I just popped in to let you know I've found my way home."

"Well, we were sure missing ya."

"I went to Puerto Rico to find myself."

"In Puerto Rico?"

"And wouldn't you know it, Eduardo here had done the exact same thing? We went to find ourselves and what we found was each other."

"Yes," said the gargantuan mass of muscle to Liz's left, a Latin-tinged accent escaping his lips. "She pulled me in like cat nip, I do love my little kitty so. Meow, meow, my little kitty!"

Liz turned her hand into a paw and waved it towards her man with a wink. "Mmm, well, mreow, mreow, my lion king!"

Jeff turned away from the couple, hissing softly.

"Where's the wifey?" asked Liz.

Audrey realized she couldn't stay hidden forever (or could she? no...no, she couldn't) and walked her way towards the group. "Hi, Liz, it's been awhile. Eduardo?"

Liz's mega-man smiled. "Hello, friend of Kitty!"

Audrey acknowledged the greeting with a nod. "Not to be rude or anything but just as a forewarning, if you could please try to keep it down a little, the baby just fell asleep and she gets a little cranky if she doesn't get her nap, so..."

"Oh, the baby!" Liz gasped. "I haven't seen the baby!"

"Shhh." Audrey led Liz to the bassinet and they peered at Shea as she slept. Liz squealed softly.

"Oh, she's adorable! She has your hair and Jeff's rugged jaw line."

Audrey looked to Jeff with a raise of her brow, and Jeff shook his head with a shrug.

Liz looked back to Audrey. "And you...you're looking just great, Audrey..." she said most unassuredly, looking her over. She turned her voice to a whisper. "But in case you were thinking about hitting up the gym a little, I know a guy. I'll give you his card, trust me, he trimmed a few dollops off my decadent derriere, he can do anything."

"No-- actually, Liz, I'm pregnant."

Liz laughed, relieved. "Oh! Oh, well, silly me. Still, if you want his number, you know, give me a ringy ding ding, he'll work off that post baby flab when your time's up."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Who knows, maybe now that I've snagged me a hubby for keeps, I'll pop out one of my own soon, huh? The kids could use a brother or sister of the human variety one of these days."

"Wait, did you say hubby? You...you and Eduardo are married?"

"Oh, did...did I not say? Yes. Oh, it was a little impulsive, maybe, but we're madly in love, and you can't say no to love."

Jeff laughed.

Liz walked back to her new beau, grabbing him firmly by the arm. "Do you have something you'd like to say, Jeff?"

"Nope. No, sorry."

"No, we're all grown ups, we can hear what you have to say about Eduardo's and my love affair."

Well, then, considering she had just made him sick to his stomach, yes, he would tell her precisely what was on his mind.

"Okay, fine. This isn't your first impulsive marriage, Liz, we all know how that turned out. And uh, to be honest...this whole thing? This is just...ridiculous."

Eduardo wrapped an arm around Liz. "We are very much in lo--"

"Let me handle this, my big black panther," said Liz, shooshing him away. He obediently took a step back and observed.

"Big black panther?" Jeff grimaced. "He's not even black, he's--"

"I'll have you know this is nothing like my previous marriage to one Mr. Dunbar. For starters, I was not drunk when I married this handsome fella back here--"

"We were a little drunk," interjected Eduardo.

"Pussywillow," shot Liz sharply with a glare in his direction. She turned back to Jeff. "A little drunk, but for hell's sake, not Russell drunk. Look at this piece of mancake, would you pass that up?"

"I would," assured Jeff.

"And I mean, we all know my previous marriage was the biggest mistake of my life. I married a weasely little troll whose only goals in life are to amass the largest collection of sexually transmitted diseases known to mankind and to fail to grow larger than five feet tall or an ounce of testosterone, I mean...clearly I put in for an upgrade with this one."

Something snapped in Audrey's brain. She wasn't sure why, or when Russell had made the list of 'friends to defend' -- perhaps it was more her current aggravation with Liz, but she responded with a touch of arrogance, "Well, you'll be interested to know that Russell recently got married again as well, and he didn't exactly downgrade, either."

Jeff ran a finger across his neck, signaling for Audrey to cut out her current line of dialogue.

Liz practically guffawed, leading her new husband to guffaw in turn as well, although he surely had no idea why he was doing so. "Like I'm about to believe that Russell T. Dunbar found another woman willing to marry his flabby little ass?"

"Great," said Jeff, "there's a visual I wanted added to my repertoire of Russell." But something snapped for him as well. "Hey now, listen, Liz, you were pretty overly-obsessed with that flabby little ass, as I recall."

"It was a phase," said Liz. "Regardless...maybe I should drop by Russell's place, meet this new gal pal of his before she gets tired of him too. He's in the same place, right?"

"Ya won't find him," said Jeff. "Last time he moved we were given very clear instructions not to tell you where. He covered his scent so that animals like you wouldn't be able to track him."

"Yeah, and anyway," began Audrey--

Jeff flailed his arms, trying to prevent her from making whatever incriminating statement he was sure she was about to make.

"--you already know him."

Liz scoffed. "Of course I already know Russell."

"Audrey, not Liz, we don't tell Liz."

"Not Russell. Timmy."

Liz stood quietly for a moment, attempting to piece together the words Audrey had just uttered. And then her jaw dropped, her eyes going very wide.

Jeff growled. "Damn it, Aud."

Liz laughed sharply. "No. No, that can't possibly be what you meant."

"It isn't," shot Jeff. "She didn't mean that, it's all in your head." He laughed. "What a ridiculous suggestion! It's been a great visit Liz, now you go enjoy your honeymoon with Mr. Chippendale over here..."

"Russell married Timmy?!"

Jeff grimaced. Audrey closed her eyes a moment, recoiling -- maybe she shouldn't have let that slip...oops.

"Ha! So my ex-hubby and my ex-fling are sacking it up...I could have called that one, is it just me or did those two have a little bit of sexual tension happening way before I ever snagged the blondie, am I right or am I right?"

"Now listen," shot Audrey, "you and Timmy were never a thing. He talked to me about that and from what I recall you came on to him."

"And even if that were true," added Jeff, "Shouldn't you question a world in which two men you were involved with suddenly go gay for one another?"

Liz huffed. "Well, that just means I ruined them for women forever...they know they can never do any better than me so they settled for the other entree."

Jeff turned away with a shake of his head. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Liz patted hubby #2 on his big, burly chest. "Hunk o'man helps me sleep at night after several hours of the best loving I've ever had in my life, thank you very much, Jeffrey."

Audrey tried her best to regain a polite composure. "Maybe you should go, Liz. And if I were you I wouldn't drag this out with Russell and Timmy. They've been through enough, just...be nice."

"I'm over it, Audrey. I have better things to do with my time." She walked back to Eduardo, who had been standing very much like an inanimate object for the better part of her visit. He snapped back to attention now, smiling at her, tongue practically rolling out like a puppy dog in response to her attention. "Come on, lover, let's go home. How'd you like to be my personal scratching post for the evening?"

The man gave off a giggle that shouldn't have come from a grown man with so much muscle as the two exited the Binghams' apartment.

For a time, Jeff and Audrey stood quietly, shocked. Finally, without speaking anymore of Liz, Jeff started for the kitchen. "You want ice cream?"

"Yes."

"...You know she's gonna track down Russell and torture him relentlessly."

"Yeah, I know."

"Good going, Aud." Jeff left her with this as he entered the kitchen.

Audrey sat down on the sofa and proceeded to cry. Jeff slowly opened the kitchen door, sighing out heavily, feeling like a jerk. She had a real knack of making him feel like a jerk lately; although to be fair, he usually was. He walked back over and sat beside her. "I'm sorry, hon. It's not your fault, she was gonna find out about those two sooner or later. Should I cut up some bacon and put it in the ice cream, would you like that?"

Audrey looked to Jeff, her eyes welling up with tears and with love as if he'd just spoken the most romantic words known to mankind. "Oh, Jeff. Yes."

----------

Jen studied herself in the full wall gym mirror. She pinched at her practically non-existent fat, pouting. It didn't matter how much was actually there, she felt fat, and she wouldn't let that be a part of her wedding day. She had trimmed the excess last time, she could do it again...

They hadn't even set a proper date yet, but hey, goals without deadlines were still goals, right?

Truthfully, she was growing discouraged. All of the planning, designing more save the date cards (they didn't even have a date! oh my god, they had to pick a date!), trying to sort out seating arrangements in her head (Uncle Glenn hates Aunt Lucy but Aunt Lucy will only sit by Uncle Glenn's wife, Crazy Aunt Ethel...oh my god, it was like some crappy high school math problem). She didn't want this wedding any more than Adam did, but she wouldn't dare tell him that, not after all the fuss she'd been making. She was pretty sure he knew, anyway. She'd taken to drinking wine every night. Out of the big glasses. Suddenly she wasn't thinking so much about her fat and was thinking about wine. God, she really wanted a glass of wine right now. What wedding? Who was planning a stupid wedding?

"Hello, Jennifer!"

"Ah! Pinot Grigio!"

"...What?"

Jen looked to her side in the mirror and smiled with a wave before turning around to greet the arrival.

"Hey, oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. My head is all over the place."

"It's okay," she said with a smile. Jen's newest gym buddy; gym buddies were good for one of two things: motivation or distraction. This girl fell into the latter...Jen had no complaints.

Jen took no time in grousing. "I'm so sick of planning this stupid wedding."

"I thought you were having fun with that."

"I used to, back before I was married...and I thought I was now, but I don't think I am. Not anymore. It's feeling more like an obligation."

"When I was a little girl, I always dreamed about a big wedding...with the frilly dress and tall elegant heels, the tall, dark, handsome man in the tux and the carriage with the white horses..." she snickered. "So silly."

"No, that's not silly! I used to dream about that too." Jen sneered. "Now I'd settle for flip flops and Adam to shut up about pie."

"Well, at least you have a husband. Kind of hard to dream about weddings when you can't even land a boyfriend."

"Come on, Allison, you're an eligible bachelorette, you're sexy and smart, you could land any guy in this place."

She looked around. "...At the gym?"

"Hey, there's some pretty sexy guys at the gym."

She shrugged. "Not exactly my type."

"Well, what's your type?"

"I don't know, I tend to go for the intellectuals but it never really goes in my favor. Maybe I should dumb it down a little. Oh..." A burly man walked by the girls with a wave of his hand, and she bit a lip coyly.

"That's what I'm talkin' about!" said Jen.

"Was that okay...? I'm terrible at flirting. I haven't had a boyfriend since I moved out of the city, and to be honest that relationship was mostly sexual in nature."

"Whoa. Way to work it, Allison."

She sniggered. "I know. And it was amazing, but...you know, maybe there's more to a relationship. Still, there's been more than one night I thought about calling my ex and letting him know I was back in town when I was feeling a little...tense."

"In a previous life I used to hook up with exes. Not my proudest move, but hey, you do what you gotta do sometimes."

"Mm, not me, I can resist. New chapters, right? But anyway, I'm sure you have a thrilling sexual life with your husband."

"Oh...well, yeah, pft, of course." And then it occurred to Jen -- the stress of wedding planning this go around had begun to put sex on the back burner. That had never really happened before...

"Jen...?"

"Huh? Ugh, I'm sorry, I really am distracted. Listen, maybe we could do lunch sometime?"

"Yes, I'd like that."

The women said their goodbyes and Jen turned back to the mirror. She stared not so much at her fat this time, but her face. She looked tired. This wedding wouldn't happen for months, and she was already so tired.

"Maybe we could move to Mexico and never talk to our families ever again."

Great idea.

----------

Timmy was in the kitchen starting dinner; Russell and Emily sat in chairs on either side of the living room, occasionally stealing uncomfortable glances, not sure what to say. Finally Emily asked the question she'd been trying to form in her mind since Russell had walked in the apartment spewing sexual propositions at Timmy.

"He's your husband?"

"Okay, this is gonna sound kind of weird..." Russell tried to come up with an eloquent response, and upon failing, replied simply: "Yes."

"Oh..."

"Okay, uh...listen, up until very recently, I was exclusively with women. And yes, I was, not contrary to your mother's opinion, something of a sleazeball. Let's say that this is more or less a recent development and you've chosen to come and find me at kind of a weird...crossroads in the life of Russell Dunbar."

"Mm. Don't take this the wrong way, but uhm...my mom always did tell me that you were a little......"

Russell motioned for her to continue. "Yeah? I was a little what?"

"....a little fruity."

Timmy had emerged from the kitchen in time to hear this remark, and raised a curious brow.

Russell placed a hand to his chest, insulted. "Wait, what?! She said that about me?"

"She said...you used to cry sometimes after sex and that...you would pick out clothes for her when you'd go on dates."

"She looked good in teal, I have an eye for accessories!"

Timmy sat on the sofa between the two of them. "I'll admit, he does have a certain flair for accessorizing."

"See?"

"As for the crying after--"

"Nya-na-no, na, we don't...no, that's. I don't...I don't do that. Anyway, look, I'm not gay. I just swing a little coo-coo for coco nerd over here, okay? Listen, what are you doing here, anyway?"

"Russell..." Timmy's voice was laced with warning, and Russell carefully adjusted his tone.

"I mean, and not to be a jerk or anything, but uh...child support? Back pay? How old are you, what would I even owe? If you're even my kid. Let's crunch some numbers here."

"Oh, no," she assured, "...no, I--I don't want any money, but I'm 24."

Russell started counting on his fingers. "Well, then, when you were born I would have been..."

"You'd have been roundabout 25," said Timmy.

"Dude," said Russell with a chuckle, "I'm not 50."

"Russell, you know perfectly well that--"

"Nyu-uh-uh!!" He grumbled. "But yeah, okay, about 25, whatever."

Emily leaned towards Timmy. "How old are you?" she asked softly.

"30 this month."

She giggled gently. "He robbed the cradle."

Timmy grinned. "Yes, I suppose he did, at that."

"Wait, dude, it's your birthday this month? Why didn't I know about this?"

"Oh, I don't know, sir, you've only been around to forget the last four of them."

Emily blinked heavily, still addressing Timmy. "Did...did you just call him sir?"

"Oh, Emily, I'm afraid you've walked into a situation far beyond the realm of reasonable explanation."

Russell sighed. "He used to work for me, he hasn't quite gotten over the whole 'sir' and 'mister' thing." He shrugged in Timmy's direction. "Oh yeah, super hard to explain, uh-huh." Turning back to Emily: "Listen, I have a lab that can handle stuff like this. Don't ask me why, I've just been through this more than my fair share. Well, never quite like this. Usually it's some girl who's knocked up and looking for somebody to blame after a little too much drinky drink, ya know?"

Emily's eyes narrowed and Russell hissed through his teeth.

"God, that was...probably not...the most sensitive choice of words..."

"Correct assertion," said Timmy. "What he's attempting to say is that he can have the two of you submit DNA samples. That is, only if you're comfortable in doing so, Emily. Though it does appear you've gone through quite a bit of work in finding Russell, I would presume you'd like to know for certain?"

She nodded. "Yes. Whatever we need to do, I just...I'd like to know. I didn't tell my mom I was coming, though..."

"Where do you live?" asked Russell. "Like, how far did you come to find me?"

"Oh, not far," she said. "Just a few miles..."

"Wow. That's...that's insane, so we could have seen each other a million times and never would have known."

"It's a big city," she said. She bit a lip nervously. "Uhm...I know I said I'd stay for dinner, but my mom doesn't know I'm here, and...I know it's kind of lame, I'm a big girl and everything, but if she knew I was here she might have a conniption, so..."

"Yeah, no, it's cool, I understand, uh...my number, you need my number?" Russell looked to Timmy, who ran to get paper and pen. Russell's brain scrambled as he looked back to Emily, wanting to suddenly ask a million questions. "So...you go to school, you work, what do you do?"

"Oh, I'm in school. I'm studying architecture..."

Timmy had returned, and both men seemed taken aback by what she had just announced.

"I know, weird, right? I saw where you worked and it kind of freaked me out a little that you were in real estate. Maybe someday we'll even work together..." She let off another soft smile, sweet and sincere, and Russell felt something inside of him melt.

"Yeah, well, to be honest," he laughed gently, "I don't know much about real estate. It's my dad's business. I kind of half-ass a lot of what I do, but uh, I know enough about the business end to get by. I deal with clients on a pretty steady basis, I know how to work deals, but architecture, that's...that's like an art form, that's beyond my scope, I don't...I don't know a lot about that. That's pretty cool, yeah."

Timmy had jotted down Russell's phone number and handed it to Emily. She smiled at both men as she stood up, brushing herself off gingerly. She fidgeted awkwardly as she looked to Russell.

"It was nice meeting you."

"Yeah, same here. Listen, if you can get away from your mom again, I'll take you out to dinner, okay? Just...you call me, you let me know. And we'll get that DNA stuff taken care of, okay?"

She nodded. For a time they stood there, unsure of what to do.

Timmy stood on the sidelines, watching. He wasn't sure what his place was in all of this; in truth, he was growing increasingly anxious for Russell, and something ached in his gut, a feeling he couldn't quite place. He watched Russell's body shake subtly, full of nerves, and leaned over finally, touching his arm gently. The men met eyes and Timmy gave a reassuring nod; Russell looked back to Emily.

"So yeah, uhm...is it gonna freak you out too much if I, uh--"

On cue Emily approached Russell, wrapping her arms slowly, gently around him in a hug. He hesitated a moment; somehow he felt he might break her if he returned the gesture, she seemed so delicate and pure, but he released this notion and allowed his arms to carefully embrace her. When she left his arms, she bounced away smiling, with a small wave as she left the apartment, a perfect vision of sweetness.

As soon as the door had closed, Russell's legs gave way; Timmy rushed to hold him up, and promptly carried him to the sofa where he collapsed with labored breathing.

"It's alright, Russell."

"No...no, it's not. Oh, my god."

"She's very nice, isn't she?"

"She's my daughter...oh my god, Tim, I'm a father, how the hell did that happen?"

"Well, you see, when a man and a woman--"

"Not funny!"

Timmy sat beside Russell, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "I'm sorry, merely trying to keep things light. We don't know anything for certain until there are DNA results, it's best not to panic, and even if she is your daughter--"

"She looks a little like me."

Timmy nodded. "Yes. Yes, she does somewhat resemble you. I mean, as much as a woman might resemble you without being deemed hideous."

"Uggggh." Russell threw himself forward, face hitting his knees. "She's my kid, Timmy, I can feel it. I can't even explain it. I felt something, and it wasn't what I usually feel when I'm that close to a woman. Like, nothing in my dick at all."

"Yes, well. Thank heavens for that."

"Something in my heart or my soul. Is that how it is when it's your own kid? Like, your soul gets turned on?"

Timmy rubbed Russell's back. "Mm. Eloquently stated. I would imagine so." He pulled Russell up. "Now, listen. Clearly this girl has gone to a great deal of trouble to find you, she wants to know you. And if she is indeed your daughter, I can't possibly imagine a more charming, lovely human being to have enter your life. I think this is a day of celebration. I'm going to go and open that bottle of champagne we've been saving, and we're going to have a toast. To Emily, yes? And you're going to relax, and look at this situation in perspective, and you're not going to freak out, agreed?"

Russell nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

Timmy walked into the kitchen, retrieving and opening the bottle of champagne; moments later he heard a loud thud and emerged to find Russell flat on the floor, passed out.

Timmy walked to the sofa and sat, staring down at Russell's body strewn out on the floor. He sighed, looked to the bottle in his hand, and with a shrug, took a long swig. "To Emily."

Notes:

Ooh, Jen made a friend. Aaaand...Liz. Yikes.

Chapter 5: Glitching

Russell had been sitting in the back booth of the diner, alone, for the last two hours. His hair was shabby and he hadn't paid much attention to the clothes he'd thrown on this morning. Mostly, he just looked tired. He glanced to his phone and read the text message on the screen for about the hundredth time:

It was nice meeting you. I hope we can get together again soon. Please feel free to call. - Emily

He had woken up the previous evening, having passed out on the floor, to discover Timmy asleep on the sofa, empty bottle of champagne to his side. It was at that point that he had realized the magnitude of the situation wasn't just affecting him -- the mysterious woman showing up on Russell's doorstep bestowing the gift of possible paternity had for some reason unnerved Timmy, as well. He'd covered Timmy with a blanket and left him sleeping on the sofa, and had gone on to feign sleep in the bedroom all night; he didn't get any. At one point he heard Timmy rustling about and hoped he'd come to bed, but he never joined him in the bedroom -- for some reason, he had returned to sleeping on the sofa for the remainder of the night.

Russell hadn't ordered any food; he couldn't eat. Doreen, their familiar waitress of several years, had been eyeing him for the better part of his time at the diner. Earlier, she'd brought him coffee before he'd ordered, and she'd been surprised to receive a genuine albeit half-hearted thank you. Normally she wouldn't concern herself with his problems -- they usually involved some sexual dilemma and weren't worth much more than an eye roll, but they'd seemed a little more intriguing lately, and she felt a motherly drive to speak with him as they rolled into his third hour in the back of the diner. Business was a little slow this morning, anyway.

"Hey, Russell."

He managed to look to Doreen with weary eyes.

"Where's your little, uh...well, what is Timmy now, exactly?"

"Husband."

She spoke in her typical flat, sardonic tone. "Well, hot damn, how'd I miss that one? Won that bet."

"Seriously? You had a bet going?"

"Everybody up here did. About two years runnin'."

"Don't know where he is, home or something." He chose not to react further to yet another person's commentary on what, according to the world, was an obvious turn in their relationship. Two months had prompted more than enough of that.

"Getcha something? Pie's fresh."

"I'm good."

"Mm-hm. You look more warmed over than usual, but keep sittin' in the back of my diner drinkin' nothing but coffee for a few more hours, it attracts all the best customers."

"Sorry, uhm...yeah, pie is fine."

"Comin' right up. And hey, Russell?"

"Yeah?"

"Pie won't cure what's ailin' ya, but it's pretty good today."

He managed a soft smile, which she returned. A markedly unusual gesture for Doreen.

A minute later, Russell found two figures sitting to either side of him. He glanced up to see Jeff to his right and Adam to his left, and let out a small groan.

"Wives let you guys out of the cages?"

"Looks like Tim's been keeping you in a cage," Adam retorted as he inspected Russell's appearance.

"You look like crap," added Jeff. He huffed out gruffly, "I know you're into some kinky stuff, but geez, what kind of sex are you having?"

"Hey, I have fantastic sex, and a hell of a lot more of it than you're getting, Mr. Mom."

The men all looked around painfully for a moment, diverting their eyes from one another. Russell wasn't prone to admitting to the guys that he was, in fact, engaged in regular sexual activity with Timmy, despite this being abundantly obvious. They needed a moment to reset into man mode. Eventually, they'd have to get over this and realize that they were all still men, regardless of who they chose to sleep with.

Jeff coughed, declaring the reset complete. "So what's with the hobo look, this a new trend, all the cool kids dressing like this?"

"I had a rough night."

Jeff was careful. He wasn't about to walk into another reset.

"What happened?" ventured Adam cautiously.

"Somebody...somebody came by the apartment yesterday." Russell snapped to, pointing to Adam. "Oh my god, the note. A couple weeks ago, at the office."

"What, that weird note from the mystery girl?"

"Yeah, Emily!"

"She showed up? Well, who was she?"

Russell's eyes darted between both men. "Okay, I'll tell you, but no wisecracks."

Jeff and Adam put up their hands with nods of assurance.

"I may have a kid."

Jeff groaned. "Ohhh, come on, man, this isn't the first time some woman's shown up saying you're the dad."

"Well, hold on," said Adam, "is she even pregnant this time? Didn't you say the last one wasn't?"

"Oh, yeah," said Russell. "That chick's 'baby belly' was all Big Macs and Ho Hos, but listen, it's not like that, this wasn't a woman claiming to be pregnant, this was a woman claiming to be my daughter."

"A full grown woman?" asked Jeff. "Why would anybody want to do that? I mean, she didn't take one look at you and run?"

"Hey, listen--"

"She saw your name on the building, thought she'd get in on a little Daddy Warbucks action?"

Russell banged a hand on the table. "What happened to no wisecracks, huh?"

Jeff retreated with a nod.

"Well, is there a chance?" asked Adam.

"See, my gut says yes...I used to hang around with her mom, the timing's right...but I'm not sure I'm ready to be a dad."

"Ready or not." Jeff huffed out a laugh. "You know how ironic this is, don'tcha?" He pointed around the table. "Married guy, engaged guy, bachelor. That's how it always was. Well now all three of us are the married guys...however the hell that happened, weird left turn there. If the two of us have kids then Adam, you're falling behind now, Russell's not the old man tailing the race anymore. You've gotta get cracking on Jen and pop out a kid, get to it."

Adam appeared caught in headlights. "Oh...oh, well, uh...we-we do want kids, I mean, maybe once we're finally done with this stupid wedding and everything..."

"So you're going to die childless," Jeff concluded.

"We're really doing it this time!"

Russell hit Adam on the arm. "Sure you are."

"We are! We're thinking in around four or five months, she's got this whole winter wonderland thing in her head suddenly, a Christmas wedding. And...and we've never even talked about winter weddings before, like in 7 years we've never talked about a winter wedding." Adam was growing flustered. "Like, come on woman, make up your mind!! First it's the beach, then it's pumpkin spice everything, now it's snow angels and twinkle lights, next thing I know we'll probably be getting married naked in the middle of Times Square!"

Russell narrowed his eyes. "Wait, what?"

"I don't know anymore, she's gone mad with power, crazy wedding power!" He took a moment to center himself. "Anyway, this wasn't about the wedding, I'm tired of the wedding, we were talking about you having a kid...that's crazy, are you gonna take a test to make sure, or...Russell?"

Russell was staring into the distance. He shook his head, bringing his attention back to Adam. "Wha--? I'm sorry, you said something about Jen naked..." He grinned. "Yeah, I like that last idea, tell her to go with that one."

Jeff coughed. "You do realize Adam would be naked, too."

"Oh...yeah, no, do the stupid winter wonderland thing, I guess." He scrunched his face up and mouthed with a shake of his head: "Tacky."

"Well, apparently Timmy told her it was a 'lovely idea'," said Adam. "She's been talking to him about everything. Every time I say I don't like something she's all, 'well Timmy likes it'."

"Yeah, when did Timmy and Jen become such gal pals?" muttered Russell. "She keeps texting him all the time lately. What, he marries me and suddenly she's trying to be his fag hag?"

Jeff recoiled. "His what?"

"His, ah...nothing, never mind."

Adam motioned towards a figure fast approaching them. "Well, he's coming over here."

"What?"

"Yeah, Timmy's been sitting over there for a little while, you didn't see him come in?"

Timmy had indeed been sitting in the diner for a short while and had finally decided to join the group. He looked nearly as tarnished as Russell this morning, although he'd clearly taken the effort to make himself a tad more presentable. They all put up hands in greeting, but there was a sudden discomfort as silence fell over the men.

A feeling of shame swept over the table at the realization that somehow Timmy's presence had posed a threat to their "man mode" -- as if somehow he was the outside element, the one tarnishing the heterosexuality of the entire table. Of course it wasn't true, and they all knew it. It wasn't his fault; Russell had just been there first, and Timmy had been the Yoko to their Lennon.

What was he now? A buddy, a buddy's spouse? Could he be both? Jeff and Adam found it easier to try and regain a certain comfort level with Russell; there was a mutual awkwardness now between Timmy and the others. He had never fully cemented himself as one of the guys, and now...well, they were all working on it. It would take time.

"Apologies. I don't mean to intrude. Might I borrow Russell for just a moment?"

"You can keep him," said Jeff. "We were done with him anyway."

Adam slipped out from the table, allowing Russell to reluctantly drag himself out. He'd been sitting for hours and his body ached as he pushed himself pathetically upward. Timmy grabbed an arm to keep him straight and nodded towards Jeff and Adam as he led Russell away, back towards the gang's regular booth. He'd already ordered coffee for them both and Russell grabbed a cup instinctively and took a sip.

"Timmy, you look like crap."

"Have you seen yourself? And not quite so loud, please, I have the worst headache."

"Where've you been, anyway?"

"Me? I've been home, and what about you? You've been sitting here all morning drowning your sorrows in coffee?"

"Did you chug that bottle of champagne and sleep in the living room all night? Are you hung over? You look hung over."

"Seriously. On champagne?"

Russell eyed him suspiciously. "An entire bottle! I know my liquor, buddy. You pace yourself, sure, you might be sort of okay... well maybe not you because all you ever do is go on binges once in awhile, you haven't built up a tolerance, you don't drink right."

"My apologies for not abusing alcohol correctly. Amazing, you'd think working for you I'd have succumb to the bottle years ago."

"But I'm pretty sure you downed that sucker and that wasn't top class stuff, that was some pretty cheap crap, and the carbonation helps absorb the alcohol faster. Basic science, you should know this."

"I wasn't thinking, I just...I needed to stop thinking for a moment. Why can't you retain a tome of knowledge on subjects that don't involve my utter humiliation?"

"You didn't come to bed because you were wasted."

"That's one reason."

"You have another reason?"

Doreen placed a piece of pie in front of Russell. She looked to Timmy. "You want anything else? Not sure which of you looks worse. Whatever you boys have been up to I really don't wanna know, but you sure ain't gonna make it on coffee."

"He's got a hangover," said Russell. "Just get him some water or something."

"Water," she said. "Looking forward to that tip."

When she was gone, Russell reached a hand across the table, fingers brushing carefully against Timmy's arm. "Hey -- what's the sitch here, huh? I'm supposed to be the one with the hang up today, not you. I didn't sleep at all last night, I--" He lowered his voice, looking back briefly to Jeff and Adam before returning to Timmy, mouthing his next words. "I needed you."

"I realize that, and I apologize, it was selfish of me. I'm still...what was it you said? I'm glitching. Perhaps I need rebooted."

Russell allowed a sly smirk to crawl onto his face. "Now, when you say rebooted..."

"I don't mean it that way at all. Not in the slightest, Russell."

"Hmmm..." Russell's fingers crawled a little further up Timmy's arm.

"There's really no way you could possibly get me into such a mindset right now. I will never reach your level of perversion, Russell, you know this."

"Yeah, you always say that," Russell replied with a coy grin, "and I always manage to find a way."

"Not right now. Not with this headache, not with so much on my mind...and Jeff and Adam several feet away from us, need I remind you of that?"

Russell sneered slightly; but he wouldn't let this deter him. "You remember a couple of nights ago?"

"...No. It's shan't work, Russell."

Russell eased his voice into a seductive whisper, soft enough that only the two of them could hear. "You remember me easing my fingers down your spine and how hard you bit into my shoulder? Because you wanted more. You always want more. Still have bite marks, Timmy. You wanna see?" He moved the collar of his shirt, revealing a prominent mark still present on his shoulder.

".......Not working."

"I could crawl over this table right now and take you, Tim."

"Stop it, Russell."

"We could fuck right here."

"Stop!"

Doreen sat down a glass of water; Timmy jumped, breathing heavily, as if ready to attack, and she backed away slowly. Russell laughed with a clap of his hands.

"Dude, I told you! I told you, I'm good at this. You're good to go, right?"

Timmy glared with a low growl. "Why do you take such joy in this?" He lowered his voice. "And besides, all you've done is succeed in getting us both riled in a public place where we can do nothing about it."

Russell dropped his laughter, sighing. "Yeah, that's the part that isn't so funny."

A new voice came seething out towards them: "Well, hello, boys."

"No..." said Timmy, daring not turn around to set eyes on Liz. "Please, no. Not now."

Russell's eyes glazed over as he watched her move closer and closer towards them. "Maybe she's talking to somebody else, please for the love of-- aaand no, here she comes."

"Russell. Timmy."

Russell was quickly building a wall of aggression. His last encounter with Liz several months prior had not ended well; things had changed. He had clarity. Liz and Russell's mental wheels were both spinning, circling each other now like cat and mouse. Timmy slumped in his seat; he knew there was trouble brewing, and this was doing nothing for his hangover. Although, to Liz's credit, his erection had dissipated straight away.

"I didn't know you were back in town," said Russell. "Last time we talked you said something about needing to find yourself." Under his breath: "Should've stayed missing."

"Oh, Jeff didn't tell you I was home?" Liz waved to the booth in the back, yelling loudly. "Hello, Jeff!"

Russell spun around, giving Jeff the evil eye; Jeff pretended to be deep in conversation with Adam.

"Anyway; find myself I did. Found myself and found a new man. Brought him home with me and we're living as husband and wife."

"Yuck. Well, I wish him many years of happiness and a strong stomach."

"Hm. So I heard things have been interesting back on the ol' home front, as well. Rumor has it there were some wedding bells around these parts while I was gettin' my tan on in Puerto Rico."

Russell put a hand firmly up towards Liz's face. "Stop. Whatever it is you have to say, we've already heard it. Whatever wisecrack you're about to make, it's already been made. 'How did it happen?' Green card. 'Oh, so you're not really married?' Yes, we're really married. And you know what, Liz? He's a better lover than you."

Timmy's eyes shot wide. "What? What now?"

Liz looked Timmy over. "Oh, really? Well, at present he looks like something the cat dragged in."

"You would know," said Russell. "I'd rather have him around than a dozen cats. A dozen cats watching us every time we're having sex, real intimate."

"If you were any good you wouldn't mind an audience. What is he anyway, half your age? You can't keep up with him."

"I keep up just fine, he has to try and keep up with me, sometimes he can't do it."

Timmy was staring, stunned. Was he being used as a pawn in their sudden verbal joust? What was happening?

"You were a selfish lover then, I'm sure you're a selfish lover now. My new man pleases me in ways you never could."

"Oh yeah? Well, Timmy gets all the pleasure he could ever want, tell her, Timmy."

Timmy was not about to tell Liz any such thing.

"And I suppose he lets you do that thing you could never get me to do?"

"Where the hell else am I supposed to put it, Liz? He's a dude, he doesn't have a pus--"

Timmy put his hands firmly in the air. "All right, enough! Shut up, I'm right here, I'm a human being, for god's sake!" He'd gained the attention of them both. "And in case you've both forgotten, we're in the middle of the diner and everybody can hear every word you say...which in this particular case happen to all be words regarding me. I'm sorry, this is...this is absolutely ludicrous, this is positively humiliating." He stood, leaving the booth, and he felt his head spin.

Russell was quick to jump up after him. "Timmy, wait..."

"No, carry on with this stupidity on your own, I've no time for this, I have bigger problems. So do you, I suggest you concentrate on them."

Timmy had walked dizzily halfway to the door when Russell caught up to him, grabbing him by the arm; Timmy spoke to him softly but firmly. "Please let go. You're causing a bigger scene than you've already caused."

Russell let loose of Timmy and hung his head, ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry. Holy crap, I shouldn't have done that, my head is...I'm all over the place, this stuff with Emily and--"

"I'll be back at the apartment. I suggest you get in touch with Emily, I imagine she'd be better company at present." He started away, but stopped short; he grabbed Russell's hand briefly, squeezed; a simple gesture of connection, perhaps forgiveness, before leaving the diner.

Liz was walking up behind Russell now; her tone had changed from weasely, sarcastic, to mellow and sincere, something he wasn't all too familiar with.

"Russell?"

"Just go."

She placed a hand to his shoulder, squeezing a little too firmly, and he grimaced slightly under her touch. "I feel like a real..."

"A real asshole?" He was referring more to himself, but if the shoe fit.

"Your word, not mine. Hey, Russell?"

He finally turned to face her, painfully, with a heavy sigh. "What, Liz?"

"You really care about him."

"What, you didn't know that, you never realized that? You're the one person who's not gonna be like, 'oh! well, no crap, you guys weren't already sleeping together like ten bajillion years ago a hur-hur-hur'?"

"I don't mean sleeping together, I mean you care about him. I mean we slept together, we never cared about each other."

Russell looked to Liz, somewhat startled by her emotional dismissal. "Oh...didn't we?"

Liz scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous." She patted him on the shoulder.

"But I sort of...I kind of cared about..." But she was already walking away and had exited the diner before he could get in another word. "Well, okay, screw you too, bitch."

Russell wasted no time in marching back towards Jeff and Adam's table. "Why didn't you warn me Liz was back? And how the hell did she know about me and Timmy, who told her about me and Timmy?"

"Now just calm down, Russell," said Jeff. "Don't make a scene..." And then quickly, perhaps against his better judgement: "It was Audrey, it wasn't me, I specifically told her not to say anything, I'm in the clear on this one."

Adam took a more sympathetic route. "Is everything okay? Timmy seemed really upset, man."

Russell ran a hand down his face. "I don't know, I don't know what just happened. I don't know why Tim's all out of joint, I don't know why Liz is in my face, I don't know why I have a kid, I don't know why I haven't eaten my damn pie, I don't know what's happening!"

The men rarely saw Russell this way, in a crisis meltdown -- a legitimate one -- and they weren't sure how to respond. Adam stood from the booth finally. "You wanna come back to my place, Russell?"

Russell's face contorted awkwardly. "Dude, I like you and everything, but--"

"No, no, no, no! Like, you know, old times, play some games, whatever, we can chill."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. I need to call Emily."

"You can do that from my place, you just need to get out of here and if Timmy went home something tells me you shouldn't follow him right now, am I right?"

Russell nodded in agreement. "Can we...can we pull out some GTA? Can we go run down some filthy whores?"

"Sure, buddy, let's go run down some filthy whores."

----------

Of all the things Jen could think of to reminisce about, Adam and Russell running down filthy whores in her living room wasn't one of them.

"Ha! Take that, bitch! Die, die, die!" Russell yelled. He grunted out through tightly clenched teeth, "Yeah, suck it."

Adam turned his head to where Jen stood in the kitchen, shrugging apologetically. "Uhm, Liz showed up at the diner, it didn't exactly go well, I think he's pretending they're all her."

"Well, can he do it a little less scream-y? It sounds like we're being murdered up here, somebody's gonna call the cops."

Adam nudged Russell in the side. "Hey, man, down a notch."

Russell allowed himself to be temporarily distracted from the game. "Gotta stop lettin' the old lady ride ya, man. Put her in her place now or she'll never learn, that's how they get you. First it's the ring, then it's the slow ride into total domination."

Jen sauntered into the living room. "Hmmm. Hey, uh, Russell, let me see that hand of yours again..."

"Nuh-uh-uh, it's different. See, I beat the system, I got the ring but I skipped the old lady. Shoulda thought of this years ago."

Adam laughed softly. "You mean you should have come out of the closet years ago?"

Russell's shoulders dropped. "I didn't say that--"

"You kinda did."

"That's not what I meant..."

"That's totally what you meant," laughed Adam.

"Shut up, asswipe!"

Jen shot in: "Hey! What the hell is wrong with you guys, huh? How long are you gonna keep doing this?" She pointed to Russell. "You: you're with a guy, you swing both ways, get over it." And to Adam: "And you, your friend is with a guy, he likes vaginas, he likes penises, get over it. God, what are you guys, twelve? I thought we'd all gotten used to this situation by now, just suck it up already." She shook her head as she walked away. "And you wonder why I'd rather talk to Timmy than you asswipes."

The men slumped over, having just been rightly told off, scolded children stewing in their seats. They knew Jen was right. For a moment they both considered having a grown-up discussion about it...there was a great deal to be said on the topic, and the air was ready to be cleared.

Adam chortled out softly: "She said you like penises."

Russell gave Adam a dirty look. And then, slowly, a smile crept onto his face and he let loose a laugh. "Ha! She said vaginas."

Jen tossed up her arms in defeat. "Oh, my god! I give up, whatever, you're both officially children."

The men chose to ignore Jen's annoying wisdom in favor of killing more whores.

"Die, bitch!"

Jen sighed. "Tempting."

----------

Timmy was lost in his thoughts. Something about yesterday's events had triggered him; Emily was lovely, to be sure. Russell having a child shouldn't have been a shock to anyone given his lifestyle, but in a time when so much was already changing, it was another coal on the fire, and perhaps the situation was getting a little too heated.

His head had stopped spinning for long enough to set about any menial tasks he could find around the apartment; he'd washed dishes, tidied shelves, swept the floors. When he got to the laundry he found himself irritated, dumping out the hamper on the bed, sorting through a mix of his and Russell's clothing. Even in the hamper, his laundry was somehow tidy, while Russell's was a mess, jumbled, inside out, his pockets full of the most random and asinine doodads. Paperclips, loose M&Ms, notes with barely legible scribbles (something along the lines of "figure out why they're called horny toads").

The most jarring aspect of Russell's pockets was the frequent presence of condoms; several months ago, one would have expected a constant influx of sexual apparatus in any given item of Russell's clothing -- now their presence was questionable, suspicious. The exchange of rings had brought about an understanding of loyalty, of exclusivity, although they still were reluctant to speak of this with one another. Whenever there was an implication of perhaps missing the charms of women they would somehow find a way to divert the topic. He had to admit to one of Russell's claims in the diner during his verbal badminton with Liz; he almost couldn't keep up with Russell at times. Of course Timmy had no objections to sex, being the younger and more vivacious of the men, but Russell had an addiction, and it was abundantly clear to anyone who had ever met him that he had something of a one-track mind. Now that Timmy had been placed as the sole subject of that one track, he felt at times his title had merely changed from that of assistant to sexual play thing.

But then, there were the condoms -- perhaps he wasn't the lone target of Russell's sexual drive after all. But the thought made him even more confused, dared to enrage him, so, as always, the condoms went back in Russell's nightstand, never to be spoken of.

Timmy took this opportunity to communicate with Russell for the first time since they'd left one another at the diner, texting him simply: Clean out your pockets. Naturally, he didn't receive a text back.

----------

Jen had somehow managed to convince the men to a game switch. She couldn't handle much more of Russell loudly taking out his emotions on random citizens, and so instead they were now taking turns killing one another.

"Ha! Pummeled you!" Russell held up his controller in victory.

"Yeah, well, I'm still winning," grumbled Adam.

Jen sat in the living room, thoroughly engaged in her phone. "You're both losers."

Russell whined. "What, are you chatting up Timmy again? Give it a rest."

"No, it's my friend Allison."

"Used to know an Allison. Glad that skank train left the station."

"Dude," Adam said, taking his eyes off the game. "You're just saying that because you're with Timmy now, come on, she was nice."

"Total skank, man! I couldn't walk two feet into that office without seeing the two of them getting it on, riding her on his desk all the time, barf city."

"Come on, they kissed a little in front of you, whatever."

"Always getting busy outside my freaking office." He sounded more than a little jaded over the whole thing; Timmy having a girlfriend hadn't done much for his relationship with Russell...for a time, it seemed to have made Timmy hate him even more. Russell hadn't forgotten this.

"Well, whatever," Adam said, "I kinda liked her."

"Well, I didn't. She was an irritating, mousy little prude."

"Was she a skank or a prude? She can't be both."

"Well, while you were yakking about it, I just killed you like three times."

Adam turned back to the screen. "Aw, crap."

Jen sighed. "Whatever. My Allison is super nice and I think I might ask her to be a bridesmaid."

Russell snorted. "Seriously Jen, why are you still planning that snore-fest of a wedding? How many years until you admit defeat? It's not gonna happen!"

"We're really doing it this time! I'm planning a winter--"

"Yeah, winter wonderland snore-fest, he told me."

"Well, whatever, Timmy likes it."

Russell mocked her with a sneer. "'Timmy likes it,' neh neh neh. Who gives a crap what Timmy likes?"

Jen and Adam both looked to Russell, and Jen clicked her tongue scoldingly. "Devaluing your partner's tastes and ideas, husband 101."

Just then, Russell's phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, and his face froze as he looked to the screen. "Oh my god, it's her, it's Emily."

Adam shoved him in the side. "Answer it!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

He stood, taking to pacing as he answered the call.

"Hello? Hey! Yeah, not much. What, like...like today, still?" He looked to his watch. It was only 2pm. "Sure, where? A picnic?" He scrunched his face awkwardly. "Yeah, that sounds great, sure...no, I know where that is...yeah, see ya." He hung up, and looked first to Adam and then Jen. He felt his nerves setting in again and he was growing dizzy. "Uhm...I'm gonna go..."

Jen nodded with a smile. "Yeah, go!"

Adam stood, shooshing him. "Go, man, go!"

"Yeah...yeah, okay, but..." Russell grabbed his controller, hitting buttons quickly. "Ha! Whooped your ass again!" And with that, he swiftly ran out of the apartment.

Adam looked to the screen, stunned, and let out a soft, "Hey..."

Chapter 6: The Picnic

It was around 3 o'clock when Russell and Emily met in the park. He'd thought about going home first to spruce up and perhaps have Timmy help ease his nerves, but a phone call had made it clear that tensions between them were still inexplicably high; he hadn't gotten much further than telling Timmy he was meeting Emily, and Timmy had cut him off abruptly, ending the call without so much as a goodbye. He sounded off, and this worried Russell, but for now he was doing his best to ignore the situation and focus instead on the girl walking beside him, full of her signature sunshine that made him feel so strangely happy inside.

The weather was almost too nice. It was a beautiful day, too perfect and serene, as if this was all somehow meant to be.

"I'm sorry this was such short notice, I just..."

"No, it's cool."

"Are you okay sitting on the ground? If you're not, we could find a table someplace..."

"Pft," Russell snorted, "What, you think your old man is...old? I'm not old, I'm only...slightly north of 40, I can handle a little ground action."

Emily laid out a blanket and Russell sat cross-legged on the ground; it didn't hurt at all...not even a little bit. Nope. Ha ha, he wasn't going on 50.

Emily mirrored his action, smirking knowingly as she watched him wince slightly and then cover it with a casual grin.

"So...I pried some more out of mom about you."

"Oh, god, that doesn't sound good."

"It's not."

Russell's smile turned, but he had to give her points for honesty. "Yeah, well, Jessie and I left it on kind of a sour note."

"She says she broke it off because you were cheating on her with her best friend at the time."

"Hey, in my defense, I didn't know we were actually dating, okay, I thought it was a super cas' thing, it's just she was a little bit more serious about it than I thought, it got a little weird in the end there, kind of psycho stalker territory."

Emily wasn't sure how to respond to this. Part of her wanted to accept Russell at face value; he seemed genuinely good. Another part of her realized that such mistakes could only be the transgressions of somebody deeply flawed -- and this was her mother he was talking about. She settled on him being somewhere in between. Human. She had to give him a chance.

"Anyway," said Russell, "can't change the past, and I'm not here with your mom, here with you now, right?"

"You're right. So...tell me more about yourself. What's interesting about you? Your job?"

"Yeeeeah, commercial real estate isn't all that interesting, not really picnic faire. I don't even like thinking about work at work. What else ya got?"

"Mm, what are your hobbies?"

Russell searched his brain. Don't say sex, don't say porn, come on Russell, you're an interesting, cultured man about town, you have a variety of fascinating, diverse hobbies...what are they? ...No, not sex...!

"I really get too caught up in...work to really pursue many hobbies." He flinched. Seriously, Russell? Work? Come on, that's the best you could do?

Emily laughed very softly as she set about going through the basket of food she'd brought with her. "Please, don't be so nervous. No wrong answers, I promise I won't run away."

"Heh, you say that now."

"No, I mean it."

He sighed out. "What if I were to tell you my hobbies consist mainly of pursuing, shall we say, carnal desires?"

She spoke calmly, casually as she handed him a sandwich. "Well, I'd say my mother was right about you. And then I'd say I see something else in you, so let's keep talking."

Russell's curiosity was piqued. What was this girl's angle, anyway?

"There must be something you like to do."

Russell shrugged. "Well...what do you like to do?"

"Well, I write poetry. Sometimes I read at this little coffee house I like to go to, but you know...not very often, I usually just listen. Oh, well, I play the violin, I was in band in high school."

Russell snapped to. "No way, I play the violin!"

"What, really?"

"Yeah, I mean, I wasn't in band, but I did play Carnegie Hall..."

"You played Carnegie Hall?!"

"Yeah, I guess, no biggie."

Emily was stunned.

"Anyway, my parents had me take lessons when I was a kid, for years I took lessons, I kind of started hating it, but...I can play, I've written some pieces, I just...I sort of don't do it anymore."

"Well, why don't you? I mean, wow..."

Russell grew quiet. He shook his head with a shrug; he didn't have an answer. "Yeah, you know, I also...I can paint okay, and sing a little, woodwork, stupid random crap...anything my parents paid somebody to teach me, I can do. I think they thought it would straighten me out, or help me become more rounded, or uh...or keep me out of their hair. Yeah, probably that last one, mostly." He had grown sullen, contemplative. He shook it off with a laugh. "So yeah, hobbies, I guess that answers your question, sort of."

Emily's face was sad. She hadn't expected such a revelation about Russell quite so quickly, and although she didn't mean to pry, she was naturally prone to caring. It just sort of happened.

"Your parents had a lot more money than love to give, didn't they? I guess that's why you thought I showed up looking for money..."

Russell grumbled through a sigh. "Yeah, well, money makes the heart grow fonder. Listen, you don't wanna hear about my problems, huh? Anyway, lame-o topic, new question. Uhm. You seeing anybody, any guys' asses I need to kick?"

She smiled. "No. No, I'm not seeing anyone. Well...well, I was, we broke up."

"I'll kick his ass."

"No!" She laughed. "Oh, my gosh. No, it was amicable. We just...we weren't right for each other. I'm looking for a different kind of guy."

"Hmmm...what kind of guy, young lady?"

"Well, I don't know..." She smirked, practically giggled. "Maybe one like yours."

"Mm, you sure about that?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Well, for starters..." He put on a mock voice full of sass: "He's mine, sister, no touchy." This elicited a ridiculously adorable giggle from Emily. "And secondly, he's full of drama, trust me, you don't want that package."

Emily's eyes shot wide. Russell's eyes shot wide. There was an understanding between the two of them; a silent mutual "that's what she said" sent down to them from the heavens -- haha, package -- proclaiming to them that yes, the two of you are father and daughter -- you don't need a DNA test.

Russell took a bite of his sandwich. "...Actually, it's not a bad package."

Emily covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a laugh. She recovered herself and managed finally, "He's really cute, though."

Russell groaned. "Yeah, well...see, I've never really...been all that into guys before, I don't have much...basis for..." He bit a lip. "Yeah, he is. He's cute. He's adorable, I don't...I can't stand it sometimes. He drives me nuts."

"How long have you been together?"

"That's a weird question to answer. We've been linked up for a couple of months, but that guy's been my best friend for ages. See, it all started really changing at some point, but I didn't really know it was happening, or I guess I didn't wanna know. I kept lying to myself about it. Don't ever lie to yourself about something like that, a little...parental advice, okay?"

She nodded with a smile as she went about getting more food from the basket. She noticed a minute later that Russell had grown distracted, until he finally let loose a laugh and a point of his finger.

"What? What is it?"

"Those two homeless dudes over there are fighting over a slice of pizza or something. They look like little squirrels fighting over an acorn." He squeaked out, "Ah, 'I'm hungry!' 'No, I'm hungry'! Ha..."

Emily grew concerned. She followed with her eyes where Russell had pointed, locating the two men. "Oh...that's so sad."

"Yeah, well. Can't save the world, might as well laugh about it."

"Sure, laugh at some things. But they're people, human beings just like you and me."

"Hey, now! We're better than that, we are not squirrel people."

Emily had ceased listening to Russell, turning her attention to the picnic basket; a moment later she had stood and took to walking, making a bee-line for the two men, leaving Russell thoroughly bewildered.

She was gone for what seemed like several minutes, standing with the previously squirrely men. Russell took to whistling, attempting a casual demeanor, stealing glances towards the scene occasionally to make sure everything was still okay; there appeared to be laughter and casual chatting. Emily appeared happy, the men appeared happy. Russell felt perhaps a touch of shame, but covered it with more whistling.

Finally, Emily came walking back towards Russell, and he forced a casual appearance.

"Sorry," she said as she sat back across from him. "What were we talking about?"

Russell's facade dropped; he looked at Emily as if she had three heads. "Okay, what...what was that all about?"

She spoke as though the answer were blatantly obvious. "I gave them some food, they were hungry. Their names were Pete and Joe, they were really nice."

"They were bums, they could've freakin' shanked you or something! What were you thinking?"

She shrugged. "I just like to assume the best of people. They were hungry, they're not hungry now."

Russell was stunned into silence as he watched Emily take a bite of her sandwich and brush the hair from her face in her slight, debonair way. Who was this girl? She was so like him, and yet she contained all the good that seemed the very antithesis of who he was.

Russell had a knack, it seemed, for attracting people into his life to act as moral compasses. And somehow, in a way he didn't understand, he couldn't help but fall madly in love with them.

She was his daughter...she had to be.

----------

Audrey sat down a cup of coffee in front of Jen, and she took a grateful sip.

"Did getting married change things for you and Jeff?"

"Come on, hon, things haven't really changed for you and Adam. You've been living together for years, all you did was get a piece of paper."

"Then why does it feel different?"

Audrey sat at the table with Jen and placed her chin in her hand, thoughtful. "Well...maybe it's a mental thing. You're putting way too much pressure on yourself."

"Can I share something with you...?"

"Yeah, anything."

Jen bounced slightly in her seat and spoke nervously. "I think I'd rather have a baby than a wedding."

Audrey smirked. "Seriously?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah, I mean...I see Shea all the time now, I think she tripped my baby wire, and I'm not getting any younger...I mean, I pretend I'm getting younger, I devote about a hundred bucks a month to the cause, but I looked in the mirror the other day and I'm starting to notice CROW'S FEET."

Audrey glared unsympathetically at Jen. "Crow's feet, you say?"

"Yeah, and I mean, that clock is just ticking." Jen let out a small gasp. "Oh, I'm sorry, I know you're a lot older than me..."

"I am not a lot older than you!"

"Well, I mean, you're--"

"Startin' to lose me, Jen."

"I'm sorry, I just..."

"Calling me an old wrinkled lady? Probably not the best way to have a heart to heart."

"I'm really sorry!!"

Audrey brushed it off with a wave of her hand. "It's okay. I remember the first time I noticed a wrinkle. And the first gray hair, I'm pretty sure I had a small heart attack...and that's not an exaggeration, I mean my heart literally stopped, Jeff had to pound on my chest a little, it was not a good night."

"So you understand?"

"Yes, of course." Audrey reached a hand across the table, resting it softly on Jen's arm. "Listen, have you talked to Adam about this?"

Jen scoffed. "No way. After the huge deal I've made about this wedding, I'm not telling Adam squat. We are doing this stupid thing come hell or high water. We chose the bakery and the caterer, we have a DJ, we've looked at venues...we're driving out to look at another venue in a few days. I already have my mom's wedding dress, and trust me, if she doesn't see me in it before she dies she will burn me as a heretic."

"Isn't that a little dramatic?"

"That's what I told her when she said it to me. Yesterday. Yeah, we have to have this wedding."

Audrey looked to be in thought a moment. "Well...let's see, you want to have this wedding in what, four months?"

"Yeah..."

"Hm. 16 weeks. Y'know, if you got pregnant right now, you might not show too much by then. Your dress have a lot of layers?"

A slow smile developed over Jen's face. "No...no, that's crazy, I couldn't do that. My mom would flip gears if I was pregnant before I was marri--...oh."

"Already married, yeah. Talk to Adam."

Jen squealed. "I'm gonna have a baby!"

----------

"Timmy? Hey, Tim!" Russell came bounding into the apartment, light as a feather. He'd nearly forgotten the pins and needles he'd been walking on with Timmy earlier in the day, too excited to tell him about his time with Emily.

Timmy emerged from the bedroom, wearing a comforting smile, as if nothing had transpired between the two of them at all. "So, how did your date with Emily go?"

Russell ran to Timmy in the hall, picking him up and twirling him around.

"I take it it went well, then?"

"I can't explain it, I just feel good, like...happy. I feel happy."

"Mm. Well, that's nice." Timmy sounded less enthusiastic than Russell would have liked.

"Uh, yeah...gonna go out tomorrow and get that DNA stuff taken care of."

Timmy nodded, turning back around towards the bedroom.

"Hey, don't leave. Are you...are you okay?"

"It would be crass of me to spoil this moment for you, Russell. I'm quite happy for you, I am. I'm a little surprised you're so enthusiastic about this, honestly."

"I don't know, it's weird. With this DNA stuff I've always been nervous for a positive, and now it's like...what if it's negative, what'll I do?"

"Well, at the very least you've made a friend. And...as I said, I'm happy for you." He turned away again, and Russell placed a hand to his shoulder, prompting him to turn back around.

"Hey...you and me, Tim, we're friends. Talk to me, what's the matter?"

Timmy hesitated before speaking slowly, carefully. "Has it occurred to you at all that while this woman who is very likely your daughter has suddenly presented herself into your life, the juxtaposition is that we're growing further and further apart from the rest of our families?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...my parents. Your parents. When are we to tell them about this, about us? We can't live in secrecy forever. And you must understand that if I tell my parents, and they in turn tell my grandparents, and the rest of my family finds out...I could be cut out of my family, I may never hear from the majority of them again for I don't know how long, perhaps forever."

Russell couldn't deal with this; he instantly deflected. "Well, listen, my dad already thinks you're gay, he's always thought you were gay."

"Yes, I recall. What a pleasure it was, having your father believe I was your gay little man servant."

"Here's the issue, he doesn't think I'm gay, and I'm not about to let him think I am."

"What's the qualifier for being gay, Russell? Is it having sex with a man? Is that the qualifier, because if it is, I would like to remind you of where your penis has been, and then I'd like you to kindly inform your father of said location of said penis."

"We've had this conversation, Tim, we're not gay!"

"Bisexual, however we're classifying this, we've done things with one another's penises."

"I get it! But dude, if I tell my dad I'm gay, or bi, whatever, if I tell my dad I'm boning you...you don't get it, I've never been enough for him!"

"I do get it, I understand your desire to impress your father and I understand I'm not what your parents had in mind...and you're not what my parents had in mind. I'm struggling with this, Russell, you have to understand, please...I spoke to Simran, and then I wanted to speak to my parents--"

Russell's expression mellowed. "You talked to your parents...?"

"No...I couldn't bring myself to speak to them, and I'm afraid this can't go on much longer. Simran's a lot more insightful than I am sometimes, I'm afraid. She says we have two options, and she's right."

"So what? What are our options?"

"Either we can keep behaving this way, acting as though we're ashamed of one another, or we can tell everyone and let the chips fall where they may. But we both have to make our own decision about this."

"...I'm not ashamed of you, Timmy."

"Then you need to tell your parents about us."

Russell shook his head. "I need a little more time."

"I'm going to have to talk to my parents. I can't keep living this way." Timmy appeared shaken. "I don't know how I'll manage, but it's wearing me down, it's all I can think about, I need to...I need to get past this and on with my life somehow, but what if--"

Russell wrapped his arms around Timmy. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay, we'll get through this. We'll get through it together."

Timmy pulled back enough to look at Russell. There was a sincerity to Russell's face that brought him enough comfort in this moment to believe him. "Yes. Thank you..." He leaned in to kiss Russell softly.

The men stood there for some time, gently kissing, until Russell felt Timmy relax, and he pressed a little harder, leaning him back against the wall of the hallway.

Russell ran his hands diligently down Timmy's sides, easing him further into submission. He placed a kiss to his neck and licked his way up to his ear. "I don't want you to think about this anymore tonight. That's an order."

The statement startled Timmy -- that's an order. Of course it was in jest, it was a turn of phrase, he meant nothing by it...but he had been standing on the edge, and it threatened now to bring every feeling of animosity Timmy had ever felt towards Russell to the surface. Yet it was mixed now with something strangely different. As they stood there in the hall, Timmy's back pressed against the wall, Russell's lips to his neck, hands to his waist, he felt anger rising through his core, hot and driven.

He needed Russell. He wanted Russell. Being with Russell was ruining his life. What the hell was he supposed to do?

Timmy turned tables and began kissing Russell's neck, which Russell welcomed; when Timmy began to bite softly Russell growled gently in acceptance. And then--

"Hey, what the hell, Tim--"

Timmy bit down harder.

"Ow, fuck!" Russell shoved Timmy off of him, driving him into the wall.

Timmy's breath came out ragged; he tasted a hint of blood. Russell touched the spot on his neck where Timmy's teeth had pierced his skin, and pulled his fingers away to find a touch of red.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

Timmy's voice came out hard, almost angry, "You like it rough."

"Shit, man...what the hell..."

"Five years."

Russell sucked his fingers and pressed them firmly to his neck. The pulsating he felt against his fingers was creating a strange sensation throughout his body. "...What, five years?"

"Five years. Five years, I've been with you. Tormented, agonized. I did nearly everything asked of me, obeyed every stupid order placed upon me, and why? For what? A weekly therapy session. Crying in the shower. Humiliation, being treated as a commodity, less than human, you never saw me as a human being, when did it change, Russell, when did I begin to matter to you? When did you begin to give a shit?"

Russell could barely speak, his words coming out shallow, scarcely audible. "What the hell, Tim..."

"And now here I stand, ready to bow down to you, to be your little play thing, and why? Why should I?"

"You...I thought you...wanted...?"

"Perhaps you should be my play thing for once."

Russell was catching on. "Oh..."

"Perhaps you should kowtow to me for once in your life."

"Timmy."

"No..."

"What?"

Timmy took a deep breath. Something had snapped in his mind, his brain was whirling; he wasn't sure what had come over him, he wasn't sure what he was doing, but he couldn't stop now.

"You will address me as 'sir'."

"What the fuck, Timmy?"

"YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS 'SIR'."

Russell stared at Timmy, jaw dropped, a sound of disbelief escaping his throat. But he saw the severity in Timmy's eyes; he remembered the bite on his neck, and he felt the heat still rising in his body. He collected himself, lowered his voice, and spoke softly: "Yes, sir."

Timmy nodded gently, evening his breathing. "Very well. Now..." Timmy looked Russell over meticulously. Finally, he grabbed either of his shoulders, staring deeply into his eyes. His voice came out heavy, dark, laced in more sensuality than Russell had ever heard escape Timmy's lips before.

"Mr. Dunbar. I want you to go to the bedroom. I shall be in momentarily. You're to suck me dry, because once I'm ready to go again, I want to last a good, long while...I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you long and hard, Mr. Dunbar, and do you know why?"

Russell's voice came out shaking. "...Why?"

"Because you're a bastard, Russell Dunbar. You deserve a long, hard fucking, and I'm the one to give it to you, and you shall take it, and you shall enjoy it. Do you understand?"

Russell nodded. Timmy placed his mouth to Russell's, kissing him deeply, hand firmly to the back of his head. When he pulled away, he whispered hotly into Russell's mouth: "Tonight, I own you."

Russell let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes tight. "Yes, sir."

Notes:

Them baby hormones are contagious.

......And yeeeeah, the rating's about to change...

Chapter 7: Kinks

Russell had obeyed his order. He'd been waiting in the bedroom for the last ten minutes, heart racing, unsure of what was happening. Something had snapped in Timmy, he had become possessed by some primal drive; if this was a sudden surge for dominance, Russell needed to regain control. This wasn't how things worked around here...he was as kinky as the next guy, but Timmy had drawn blood, and the look in his eyes had been just this side of bat shit crazy.

When Timmy finally showed up, Russell was quick to approach him, ready to correct the situation -- Timmy put an immediate stop to this before Russell could get a word in edgewise, gripping one hand firmly to his crotch, the other to his chin, locking their mouths together.

Russell lost all clarity; he allowed his body to sink into the kiss. Timmy was in control, manipulating the situation, playing his cards just right. Just as Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, Timmy pushed him away.

"Now, Russell...allow to me explain exactly how this evening is going to go."

Russell furrowed his brow. "Timmy, listen, I don't know if I--"

"Sir."

Russell growled low. For a moment he and Timmy met eyes; there came a mutual understanding as to what was happening. Timmy was serious; he wanted something. He needed something. And at that moment, something snapped for Russell -- he gave in. He was committed. He understood. The heat emanating from Timmy was driving him crazy; he wanted him.

He looked to Timmy now, eyes piercing, sexual, devious. "Yes, sir."

Timmy stood tall, unflinching.

"Now...you shall obey my orders. Anything I desire shall be done. Understood?"

Russell nodded silently.

"And you shall be my little toy. I must warn you, Russell...I play rough. You see, I have a great deal of pent up aggression. Lord only knows why." He laughed with a shake of his head. "Oh! Oh, I remember now. You see, Russell...I once knew a man." Timmy took to walking a slow circle around Russell. "He once enjoyed tormenting me. For giggles. And something very bizarre happened. I became oddly aroused by this man over time, despite his torments...or perhaps, in some very sick way, as a result of them. Do you understand where we're heading with this?"

Russell nodded, and then, rescinding, shook his head.

Timmy stopped dead in his tracks in front of Russell. "I believe it's come time for this man to start getting back what's due to him. Wouldn't you agree...Mr. Dunbar?"

Russell looked to the ceiling with a sharp breath. "Yes. Sir."

"Of course, this can't be done in just one evening. Fortunately, you see, I have all the time in the world. It seems I've managed to trap my tormenter and, oddly enough, he enjoys not only making my life one of endless misery, but engaging in seeded perversions with me for hours on end, day after day. Isn't that a lovely coincidence? So you see, I've decided to spend this evening both tormenting and fucking him mercilessly. But first..."

Timmy patted Russell firmly against the cheek, and breathed against his lips: "On your knees."

Russell sank to his knees obediently, and set about working on Timmy's pants; he received a foot to the chest, kicked to the floor.

"Not yet."

Russell closed his eyes a moment, regaining composure. "Then what do you want?"

Timmy stared him down.

"...Sir?"

"Strip."

Russell stood himself up and began to rush through undressing.

"Slowly! We're in no hurry, Russell. Now...take off your clothing...slowly."

Timmy observed carefully as Russell took to undressing himself from the top down. Nothing he hadn't seen before, but he wanted to make Russell feel like something of a caged animal, dancing for his amusement. It seemed to be working. Russell appeared a bit unnerved, and Timmy was enjoying this, but he couldn't take much more; he wanted him, but he couldn't let it show. He finally approached Russell, who stood topless, jeans hanging unzipped, and ran a finger slowly down the length of his torso. Russell flinched gently under Timmy's touch.

"Tell me what you want, Russell..."

Russell let out an unsteady breath. "Uh...I want...I want to..."

"Speak up."

"I want your cock, sir."

"Mm. Would you like to suck my cock?"

"Yes, sir."

"And then would you like to take it up the ass?"

Russell stumbled, choked. This wasn't how Timmy spoke, so direct and calloused. More to the point, this wasn't how they did things, this wasn't how it was done, and he wasn't quite sure he was prepared to accept this proposal.

Timmy gripped Russell by the hair, leaning into his ear. "Perhaps you didn't hear the question...would you like my cock in your ass, Russell?"

Russell gulped back, and nodded. "Yes. Yes, sir."

Timmy let go of Russell with a shove, sending him hurdling back to the floor. He wasn't about to go easy on him. Age was rarely a factor between them sexually -- Russell was a fighter and could withstand any trivial aches and pains for the greater good.

"You know, you're not bad looking for such an old man." Timmy knew this was on the precipice of crossing a line; he saw a hint of anger growing on Russell's face as he righted himself. Russell was growing increasingly sensitive about his age, and Timmy was rather pleased with himself at the frustration his backhanded compliment had invoked. Russell approached him now, prepared to attack, and Timmy took the initiative. The men met in a clash of tongues, angry, ferocious.

When Timmy shoved Russell away, the men stared each other down with heavy breaths, eyes piercing.

"Sir..." Russell's eyes flickered downward, indicating what he wanted to do. Timmy nodded in permission and Russell fell to his knees.

He moved swiftly in undoing Timmy's belt, unzipping his pants, and reaching his target, pulling out Timmy's erect cock and gripping it firmly. He felt Timmy tremble mildly at his touch, heard his attempt to suppress a sound of pleasure, and he smiled to himself shortly.

He moved his eyes up to see Timmy; he was playing the game dutifully, now. "May I, sir?"

"You may."

Russell licked up the length of Timmy's shaft, and Timmy flinched a moment before regaining his stoic composure -- he didn't want to appear too pleasured by what Russell was doing. This was a difficult feat. Russell had grown rather adept at this in their short time together, and knew exactly how to elicit responses from Timmy. He would bring him to his knees, Russell was sure of it...Timmy would not allow this. It was a test of willpower.

Russell licked the tip, flicking pre-cum into his mouth; he swirled his tongue softly for a time around the head, sucked in an inch or two gingerly, as if in assurance that he would take gentle care to make this last. Then, all at once, he sank almost completely down Timmy's cock in one fell swoop, hollowing his cheeks and lashing his tongue wildly as he began to fuck Timmy's cock with his mouth.

Timmy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. "Ohh, damn it...slow down..."

For awhile Russell didn't obey the order; for awhile Timmy didn't care, relishing in what Russell was doing. And then Timmy's voice came out fast and intentional: "Please Russell, I don't want to come too quickly, I was fit to burst before you even started, my God, please slow down, for the love of--oh shit, fuck, fuck..."

Their eyes met in this moment. Russell slowed to a steady rhythm, and Timmy sighed in relief, placing his hands to the back of Russell's head. "Good boy. Just like that...mmph..."

Each time he took Timmy's cock back in, he opened up the back of his throat a bit more, expertly -- he'd gotten quite good at this, deep throating, another notch in his belt of sexual expertise, and he enjoyed showing off. He enjoyed the throbbing against his tongue, against the back of his throat; the subtle movements from Timmy as he came closer and closer to the edge; the anticipation, waiting for a taste of cum to hit his mouth...

Timmy was thrusting now in time to Russell's motions. He was indeed close; Russell sensed this, and was preparing to remove himself when Timmy gripped Russell's hair firmly, holding him in place.

"Swallow," Timmy eked out.

Russell grunted mildly against Timmy's cock.

"Swallow."

Russell stayed obediently in his place as Timmy came with a shake and a satisfying groan, the heat streaming down the back of Russell's throat. Russell gagged and coughed as he let loose Timmy's cock now, remnants of cum escaping his mouth, streaking his lips and dripping down his chin, catching in his facial hair. When Timmy looked to him finally, Russell ran a finger against his chin, catching cum before sucking it deeply into his mouth, pulling it back clean.

Timmy zipped himself up, feigning nonchalance. "Stand up."

Russell stood slowly, seductively. Timmy kissed him deeply, tasting the salt of his own cum. "You're a good little cocksucker, Russell." He diverted his gaze downward, breath heavy. He almost broke, now, his desire for Russell growing too strong; he wanted to embrace him, to kiss him passionately, lovingly. He had almost forgotten how much he hated him in this moment. But he was in too deep, he would see this through. "Clean yourself up. I'll be back shortly and we'll continue our little game."

Timmy moved to walk away, and then thought better of it. He turned back to Russell, face softened, and looked to him with sincerity. "Russell...?"

Russell smirked devilishly and touched a hand to Timmy's cheek, kissing his lips gently. "I'll be here. Sir."

----------

Timmy looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and banged his hands on the counter in frustration. His head spun as he focused on his reflection, on his own eyes.

He never felt more conflicted than at times like this; nobody in his life had ever confused him more than Russell Dunbar. To the last nerve, on a cellular level, his body unaccountably ached for this man. A sort of painful ache that longed to both mercilessly torment him and make mad, passionate love to him. There was indeed no reasonable explanation for this. Perhaps it was the dance of soulmates, if there could be such a thing. Or perhaps there was a less spiritual, more psychological explanation for all of this. Indeed, his weekly therapy sessions had turned quite bizarre in recent days...he had a feeling that his therapist had almost quit on him once she realized that, after years of needing her counsel for an habitually abusive employer, he had turned to having sex with him. And all this time Timmy thought it was Russell with the psychological abnormalities.

Well, Russell wasn't the one standing in the bathroom now, getting undeniably turned on at the thought of physically harming his lover...of cutting him down verbally. Timmy was a passionate lover, but he was contained, respectful, never like this.

"This is sick," muttered Timmy. "This is bizarre." But Russell seemed to be enjoying himself. And Timmy could already feel himself growing hard again thinking about inflicting further pain. Just a bit of comeuppance. He deserved that, didn't he? They were both getting off on it. And so the game would continue...

----------

When Timmy emerged from the bathroom, he found Russell laying in bed. He turned his head slowly towards Timmy, his voice coming out soft and smooth:

"Ready for me, sir...?"

Timmy smiled an easy smile, coy and loving, which Russell returned. Then it was back to business. Both men grew very serious as Timmy spoke, voice laced with sex and venom.

"You know, Russell...laying there, ready for the taking...mm...I may just have to take you, indeed."

Russell bit a lip in anticipation, gradually spreading out his body in invitation as Timmy approached.

"But you know, Russell. It's not that simple."

Russell sighed out. Damn it. "...It's not?"

Timmy laughed wickedly. "No, of course not. You see, I'm rather like a cat, Russell. And you're rather like my little mouse. I like to play with my prey before I go in..." Timmy placed his hand to Russell's torso, "for..." He ran his fingernails gently down the length of his chest, "the kill." He scratched.

"NNG! SHIT!"

"Shh, shh, shh..." Timmy placed a finger to Russell's lips; Russell was quick to suck his finger in seductively, making firm eye contact. Timmy smirked, a clever front for the quiver running down his spine. "Very good."

Timmy pulled his finger from Russell's mouth and placed it gently against his own tongue, licking it slowly as he focused in on Russell's chest, the fresh scratch marks moving rhythmically with each heavy, desperate breath he took.

"Does it sting?" Timmy placed a hand to Russell's chest.

Russell recoiled, hissing through his teeth. "I've had worse."

"Are you sure that's the answer you want to give, Russell? Because I may just try and prove you wrong."

Russell forced a laugh. "Yeah? Maybe you should." Then, soberly: "Maybe I like it."

Timmy huffed. He traced his finger along the outline of Russell's cock through his jeans. "There are all kinds of ways to torture you. Some pleasant...some not so pleasant." At this, he gripped the waist of Russell's jeans along with his boxers, working them down the length of his legs, finishing the act of undressing him. When he was done, he stood back, examining his naked prey in its full glory.

"Yes. Yes, we can work with this."

"Sir...if I may?"

Timmy folded his arms. "You may speak."

"Aren't you a little overdressed?"

Timmy examined himself, still fully clothed. "Is that how we ask, Russell?"

Russell bit a lip as he led a hand down to his cock. "Mm. Can I see your body please, sir?"

Timmy focused in on what Russell was doing with his hand. Russell, noticing this, pulled his hand away. "No -- carry on." Timmy gripped Russell's hand, leading it back towards his cock. "I like to watch. And while you're at it..." He led Russell's fingers down lower. "...Stick a finger up your ass."

Timmy brought his face close to Russell's. "I'll undress for you...and then I'll tear you apart. Does that meet with your approval?"

Russell brought his hand to his mouth as he made eye contact with Timmy, sinking several fingers in with a heavy slurp, before sliding them back down, moving one slowly, dutifully towards where Timmy had requested with a mild grunt.

Timmy leaned in with a kiss, biting Russell's lip gently as he pulled away. He stood back, watching Russell attempt to finger himself as he slowly worked to undress, catching Russell's steady gaze as he removed each piece of clothing, and then folded his glasses neatly and placed them on the nightstand. As Timmy stood there naked, focused intently on Russell's finger plunging against his asshole, he felt himself begin to lose control. He wanted to ravage him, he wanted him now; not yet, not yet, not yet.

"STOP."

 

Russell pulled his hand away, staring intently at Timmy's naked form, and spread himself flat against the bed. He was overwhelmingly relieved to find Timmy on top of him a moment later, hell-bent, lustful, cocks grinding fiercely together as Timmy bit against Russell's shoulder in what seemed a sudden uncontrollable wave of passion.

And then, just as quickly as he'd attacked, Timmy rolled away from Russell, leaving him barren again, alone.

"Fuck," grumbled Russell. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

Timmy's breath was hard as he laid beside Russell, gathering himself. He coughed as he regained control and carefully sat atop Russell again, running his nails slowly, menacingly along his cheek. He centered his voice back to sleek dominance. "Such a hurry, Russell. Why such a hurry?"

"The fuck, that was all you--"

Timmy slapped Russell square across the face.

"Ahhh, god...damnit!" Russell held his face, flinching, hissing out in aggravation. And then, rolling his tongue in the cheek that had been slapped, he closed his eyes, focusing on the pain, letting it sink in... and nodded. "Yes, sir. No hurry. I'm sorry, sir." And then: "May I have another?"

Timmy slapped Russell swiftly across the opposite cheek, and Russell arched his back gently, their cocks thrusting together once again. "Ng, fuck." He looked to Timmy, pleading through clenched teeth. "Please, sir, I wanna fuck, I need it, please..."

"In due time. You've been bad, Russell."

Russell was flustered, his head spinning. "Yeah..."

"You're a terrible prick. You're scum." Timmy's voice was growing louder with each insult. "You're a lowlife, a worm, a conniving little gnome." He was screaming in Russell's face now. "You're a miserable cretin, Russell Dunbar! And with every fiber of my being I swear to all that is holy I will fuck you until you cannot stand, until you cannot breath, I shall ravage you like you have ravaged me lo these many years, do you understand me, Russell?!"

Russell's voice quavered. He was done for. "I want it, sir, I need it, please! Please, sir!"

Timmy removed himself from Russell and barked his next order: "Turn around! On your knees!"

Russell obeyed, positioning himself on all fours, legs spread wide in invitation. Timmy reached to the nightstand for a now all too familiar bottle of lubricant, nervously, sloppily coating a shaking hand. He couldn't let Russell see his nerves -- he kept an even keel to his voice, as though he knew exactly what he was doing, as though he'd done this a million times.

"Now, Russell..." Timmy inserted one finger slowly, causing Russell to shake. "We both know you're far from inexperienced." He began to move his finger in and out, and finding this easy enough, promptly pushed in a second finger, to which Russell grunted, lunging against his hand. He clearly wanted more.

Timmy twisted his fingers, feeling Russell's hole stretch against his touch. Russell pushed his face into the bed as the correct spot was hit, stifling any noises he dared make as Timmy spoke.

"What I'd like to know is, has your ass ever had a cock? I recall a conversation. You were going down on me, Russell. Amazing what one will reveal when overcome with lust. You wanted me at the time, you wanted to suck me off, and you told me you'd been with other men. Did they fuck you, Russell? Have you ever taken it in the ass?"

Russell muffled into the bed. Timmy took this opportunity to insert a third finger, diving deeper, harder now. Russell moaned a bit louder.

"What was that, Russell?" Timmy spoke flatly, as if he wasn't presently finger-fucking Russell at all. "I believe I asked you a question?"

Russell turned his head, forcing out words quickly. "Never a dick, other stuff, never a dick. God, nng...do it already...just fucking do it..."

Timmy removed his fingers. He set his attention back to the bottle of lube, clumsily applying an ample amount over his cock. He placed one hand to Russell's waist, dragging his nails sharp against his flesh, and agonizingly ran the head of his cock up and down Russell's ass, grazing his entrance in a final display of torture.

"Ah, god...put it in, just put it in..."

Finally, Timmy slipped his cock in slowly, slowly...just a bit...just an inch...and held it there.

"Tell me what you want."

Russell grunted, practically yelled, body overcome with frustration. "You know what I want!"

"Tsk tsk." Timmy's breath caught. "This...isn't how we play the game, Russell."

Russell closed his eyes and swallowed firmly. His voice was practically a whisper. "Fuck me..."

"Louder."

"Fuck me......"

"LOUDER."

"FUCK ME, TIMMY!"

Timmy plunged the length of his cock into Russell, both men letting out loud, guttural roars of relief.

Timmy pulled back, slowly...slowly...and slammed back inside, and again...slowly, slowly...and slam, harder each time, picking up speed, feeling Russell's tight opening welcome him further on each thrust, relishing in the sharp, breathless sounds of pleasure coming from Russell, until he had found a steady rhythm. He moved a hand to Russell's hair, yanking his head back, eliciting a sudden intense, satisfied groan from Russell who began lunging back to meet each thrust of his cock.

"Take it," said Timmy, "tell me...how much...you want it..."

Russell attempted to speak through heavy panting. "God...fuck......fucking....ng..."

"Tell me!!"

"Nnng...I want it...fuck me...sir..."

For awhile they were lost in this, in the new sensations flooding their bodies, focused on nothing but increasing the speed and intensity of what they were doing -- this...feels...so...fucking...good...

Timmy forced himself to think, breath catching, and with a great deal of force, slowed his movements until he was still, leaving his cock buried deep inside Russell.

"Don't stop!"

Timmy leaned forward against Russell, and forcefully looped an arm around his chest, pulling him back up towards him, their bodies pressed together. "You like my cock in your ass, Russell?"

"Fuck...fuck, yes..."

"You like being fucked like the dog you are?"

"Ah, fuck..."

Timmy shifted his arm, placing it around Russell's throat, eliciting a gasp for air. Russell thrust his head back against Timmy, and Timmy licked up the length of Russell's neck before turning to biting. He tugged a little tighter against Russell's throat, satisfied at his gasps for breath, before easing up. Russell groaned in satisfaction, fumbling his hands now to reach for Timmy, to touch him, a bit of connection, anything -- when he began to whimper pleadingly, Timmy pulled away, forcing himself painfully to remove his cock from Russell's ass.

"No no no, don't fucking stop!!"

Timmy gripped Russell hard, flipping him over to his back, pinning his legs apart before mounting again, preparing to re-enter. He had felt the need for connection as well...he wanted to see Russell's face...their eyes met now, and something broke. Russell had tried not to break, he had tried desperately not to break, but his voice came out now sincere and loving through the madness.

"I love you, sir."

Timmy stopped what he was doing for just a second. He placed his hands to Russell's stomach, a heavy breath out. "Call me Timmy again."

"But you said--"

"THAT'S AN ORDER! Call me Timmy!"

Russell's face contorted, wracked in anger. "Damn it, Timmy, are you gonna fuck me or not?!"

With this Timmy lunged his cock back into Russell, and both men took to incoherent groaning, no longer holding back. Timmy leaned down, kissing Russell as they found a steady rhythm together, flesh pounding with a satisfying smack upon each thrust, deep and hard. When Timmy left Russell's mouth he leaned back, gripping Russell's cock, stroking hard and fast. "I want to taste your cum."

"Oh, god..."

"Come for me, Russell. I'm going to come soon. Come for me."

It didn't take much. A few more strokes and Russell's back arched sharply, a roar escaping his lips as a fast stream of hot white shot from his cock, coating Timmy's hand. Timmy lost his rhythm a moment as he jerked Russell through the end of his orgasm, and picked up his pace again as he felt Russell's body relax back into the dance with him. He dropped Russell's cock and observed his hand, drenched in cum, bringing it to his mouth and licking it clean. He'd never tasted Russell's cum before. He met Russell's eyes as he let out a subtle, "Mmm..." and watched as Russell's head fell back, overwhelmed with satisfaction.

Timmy was focused fully now on the heat rising throughout his core, and took to fucking Russell with an increased speed and intensity, letting loose a heavy grunt with each thrust.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...ahhhhh.....!!!!"

Timmy pulled from Russell, jerking his cock hard, and Russell sat up quickly, allowing the stream of cum to hit his chest and face.

When it was all done, Timmy panting hard, Russell grabbed him by the arms. Timmy, not thinking, licked Russell's face, slurping in a string of his own cum before slumping forward against Russell's chest.

"Ohhhh, god. You're amazing," said Russell. "Oh, my god...what the fuck, dude..."

Timmy coughed, trying to clear his head, to remember where he was, what he was doing. "I...uhm...that didn't...that didn't quite go as planned..."

"Seriously, you had a plan?"

Timmy pulled himself from Russell slightly. "I don't know, I..." He fumbled for the nightstand, looking for his glasses. When Russell handed them to him, he put them on before placing a hand to his cheek, feeling it slick from his own cum, the result of collapsing on Russell's chest a moment earlier. "Yes, well...you're a mess. You should clean yourself up."

Russell ran his hands down Timmy's sides with a smile. "You were doing a pretty good job of that a second ago."

Timmy tried to regain his stoic composure, but allowed a smile to form across his face and leaned down to Russell's chest, licking gently against a nipple, eliciting a laugh from Russell.

"Okay, fuck, that tickles, stop...you're sexy as hell, but geez..."

Timmy recovered, clearing his throat, putting on his previous persona one last time. "Now, Russell. I hope you understand this isn't the last time we'll be playing this game."

Russell nodded, forcing down his laughter. "Understood."

"I had quite a bit in store for you, it seems this man I once knew...he was rather something of a sexual deviant, you see, and it seems to have rubbed off on me in a most maniacal way, and it does distract one from the task at hand. Pain and pleasure, the lines become rather blurred, you see, Russell..." Timmy leaned in, kissing Russell softly. "We'll try again, won't we?"

"...Yes, please, sir."

----------

The men had parted ways temporarily to shower, to refuel, to refocus. It had been a strange evening, indeed. There was a lot to think about.

Russell was back in bed when Timmy rejoined him in the bedroom.

"Russell...?"

Russell was staring at the ceiling, almost too still. Timmy placed a hand to his chest to ensure he was breathing; naturally, he was.

"Russell, are you all right?"

Russell turned his head slowly towards Timmy. He almost couldn't find the words to speak, but finally he managed a meager, "Yeah, I'm cool." Then, looking away again: "Just thinking. Not the most romantic first time, but--"

"The first time I was on the receiving end of anal sex, we writhed around sloppily on your office floor with a minimal amount of lubricant for perhaps five minutes, ten if I'm being generous, we barely spoke or made physical contact aside from the act of penetration, and we could barely look one another in the eye afterwards. I'd never felt so romanced in my life."

"Okay, yeah, I'll give ya that."

"Besides," said Timmy with a hint of arrogance, "I didn't exactly hear you complaining."

Russell looked back up at Timmy with a sly smile. "Dude...just..." He mimicked an explosion with his hands. "Pfoo!"

Timmy shrugged, as though he were an innocent bystander, having no knowledge of what Russell could possibly be referring to.

"Yeah, okay, buddy. I have proof. Battle scars."

At this Timmy smiled a coy grin. "You're welcome." He crawled into bed, placing his head on Russell's chest, and allowed an arm to curl protectively around his body.

For a time the men laid together, comfortable, content, a stark contrast from their earlier activities. To any outsiders walking in on the scene, they would have seemed a perfect vision of love and happiness...indeed, in times like this, they were. The men felt truly at home in one another's arms. It had taken far too long for them to accept this simple truth, and they would often forget again come morning, but the evening often brought clarity, a head to a chest, a stroke of an arm, a loving embrace, a connection.

As they were drifting into sleep, Russell spoke softly.

"Hey, Tim?"

"Yes?"

"We're good?"

Timmy nuzzled his head against Russell, an answer in the affirmative.

Russell leaned down, kissing the top of Timmy's head gently. "Love you. I do, okay? Just...don't forget that."

"I know. I love you too, sir."

A long silence fell between them. Finally Russell spoke.

"Maybe...maybe nobody should call anybody 'sir' for awhile."

"Perhaps not."

And they slept.

Chapter 8: Timmy's Mom

There was something funny about this morning. It was rather inexplicable, but Timmy and Russell both felt it, as if something had changed between them. Certainly the previous evening's events had tilted the scales. Russell had been knocked down a peg or two. Timmy had gained a bit of confidence. There was an unspoken acknowledgement between the two of them as they sat in the kitchen, silently eating their cold cereal, that yes, this was a turning point in their relationship -- Russell & Timmy Version 2.0. Still, a certain level of animosity hung heavy in the air. They did their best to try and overlook it.

Timmy finished eating first. The men hadn't spoken much this morning, prone more to knowing glances and soft touches, and he forced conversation now.

"You said you're doing the DNA test today?"

Russell swallowed down the last of the sugar milk from his cereal bowl and wiped his face with his sleeve. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm taking her over to my lab after work. Pretty cut and dry, the guy's name is Larry."

"You're taking Emily to a guy named Larry for a DNA test? That doesn't quite strike as being on the up-and-up."

"Dude, he's legit! I've used him like a dozen times already."

"He takes the cash up front, does he?"

Russell rolled his eyes. "Whatever. What have you got going today?"

"I don't know. I thought I might..." Timmy's voice trailed off softly.

Russell stood up, grabbing dishes and plunking them in the sink. He came up behind Timmy where he sat, wrapping his arms casually around him. "Might what?"

Timmy grabbed Russell's hands with a sigh. "No, nothing. Never mind."

Russell leaned forward, pressing his cheek against Timmy's. "You need to talk, honey?"

"No, I'm fine...I'll be fine." Timmy flinched. "Wait, what did you just call me?"

"What, what did I say?"

"You, uhm...you called me..."

Russell recoiled slightly in realization. "Oh! Oh, god. That was weird, I'm sorry, geez..."

"No, no, no...it was...I didn't mind, I sort of..." Timmy squeezed Russell's hands, and Russell placed a soft kiss to Timmy's cheek. Timmy closed his eyes and sighed out, leaning against Russell's face. The men stayed there a moment, wordless. Nothing more needed to be said.

Finally, Timmy urged Russell on. "You'd best be going, you don't want to be late for work."

Russell laughed sharply. Timmy sniggered. Begrudgingly, Russell pulled away with a small, pitiful whine and a pout, and kissed Timmy firmly on the lips before heading out the kitchen door.

Timmy smirked to himself with a shake of his head and spoke under his breath: "Honey..."

----------

Adam had been sitting in the break room for a few minutes when Russell walked in to find him fiddling with sugar packets. He seemed to be arranging them in cryptic patterns, studying them carefully as though trying to decipher a hidden message.

Russell wasted no time in sweeping an arm over the table, sending all of the sugar packets to the floor.

Adam looked to him slowly, eking out a soft, "Hey...not cool." He considered retrieving his toys, but decided against it, opting instead to sink his head to the table with a mild groan.

"Heck's wrong with you?"

"Why do you care? You're just a big jerk face anyway, knockin' my stuff all over."

Russell took a step towards the communal fridge. "Uh...huh. And we're acting like a disgruntled first grader why?"

Adam picked his head up with a sigh. "Sorry, it's just...it's this stupid wedding, man, I can't take it anymore." He leaned down to the floor now, retrieving the packets. "Do you know the difference between regular sugar and Splenda?"

"I...no."

"What about Sweet'N Low?"

"Yeah, I don't--"

"Nutrasweet?"

"Hey, Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"If you don't shut up I'm gonna shove those sugar packets down your throat and make you shut up."

Adam shrunk a little. "Whoa, geez, man. Violence is never the answer."

Given his sexual exploits with Timmy the previous evening, Russell was tempted to contradict this statement, but refrained. "Whatever. Why are you trying to be a sweetener connoisseur, anyway?"

"Jen says we need them all for the tables, because some people like one kind and other people like another kind, and I'm all like 'if people don't like regular sugar they can just not have sugar' and she's all like 'yeah but then my family will complain and then my mom will complain' and I can't win, Russell. It's sugar! It's just stupid sugar!! This is way too much, she's starting to micro-manage, this isn't normal, she's never gone this nuts before."

"Sounds like she hasn't touched a certain pair of nuts in awhile, you sound seriously pent up, man."

Adam nodded emphatically in the affirmative. "We're like, barely doing it anymore. Before we were married, I was getting it all the time, you know I was."

"Well, yeah, she's easy."

"Yeah, but--hey, that's my wife you're talking about!"

Russell was raiding the fridge and settled on a pudding cup. He grabbed a spoon and sat across from Adam. "Oh, come on, your wife's loose, why is that a bad thing? I'm paying you a compliment, take the compliment."

Adam was quiet for a moment, then shrugged with a smile. "Yeah, you're right man, she's super loose!" The men high-fived. Adam's smile dropped. "But dude, she's mega-tight right now. The stress is really getting to both of us. And...and can I tell you something? Like, confidentially, and don't make fun of me, okay?"

"Why would I make fun of you?"

"Because that's like literally all you do all the time ever to everyone."

Russell looked up thoughtfully, spooning pudding into his mouth, and nodded with a shrug.

"Anyway, when we were all at the diner and you were saying about your daughter and Jeff was saying how I'm gonna die childless, well I really started thinking about that, and I really, really think I want a kid. Like, right now. I mean, I've been spending so much time around Shea, I think my clock is ticking."

"Isn't that a chick thing?"

"I don't know, maybe I'm just picking up on Jeff's hormones or something."

"...Also a chick thing."

Adam grunted. "Whatever, man, I really think I'm ready to start trying for a baby. I know that probably sounds super lame or whatever, but I think it's time."

"Well, why are you telling me? Not exactly something I can help you with, buddy. What's the big deal, just saddle up and pop a seed in Jen already."

"I don't think she's ready, like I said before with the wedding and everything..."

"Dude, why are you so scared to talk to your woman? Man up."

"Well, she's a little scary, sometimes...plus I know this is kinda out of your scope but there's this little thing called taking someone's feelings into consideration. I don't wanna push this on her if she isn't ready."

Russell grew surprisingly serious. "You think I don't care about people's feelings?"

"Hey, chill, I didn't mean--"

"I care about people's feelings."

"Since when?"

"Since..." Russell didn't have a reasonable answer for this, so he looked down, taking another bite of pudding. "Whatever, shut up."

Adam nodded, coming to a conclusion. "Since Timmy, huh?"

"Shut up."

And then Adam grew quiet; he had noticed something. "Hey...what the heck happened to your neck?"

Russell's eyes shot wide as he placed a hand to his neck. "Wh-what do you mean, what?" He'd been touching it off and on throughout the day, feeling the tender bruise, allowing it to send a mild shock of pleasure throughout his body.

Adam grabbed Russell's head, shifting it over to see remnants of the bite mark Timmy had placed upon his neck the previous evening -- the one that had drawn blood.

"Holy crap," said Adam softly. "Is that--"

Russell brushed Adam's hands away. "None of your business, is what that is."

"Well, did...did Timmy--"

"Yeah, maybe."

They were perhaps getting a little more comfortable with this topic since Jen's scolding, but it quickly dropped. Still, as Russell stood and walked away, Adam remained slightly stunned.

"Man," he said to himself once Russell was gone. "Crazy, who would've thought Timmy had a little bite in him?" He smiled slightly at his pun. "Heh." And then his smile faded, curiosity piqued. "Huh..."

----------

Jen hated this stupid show. She'd stopped paying attention in the last ten minutes...something about the chick wanting to be with the one guy, but the other guy wanted the chick...or maybe he wanted the first guy, she wasn't really sure. And maybe they were all vampires except one of them was a werewolf or maybe a zombie or something. She was relieved that the credits were rolling and was about to stand up and get ready for bed when Adam spoke.

"That was amazing!"

Jen rolled her eyes. She shouldn't have been surprised. "...Seriously?"

"But why won't Vanessa just tell Carlisle that she's pregnant with Harrison's baby? I mean, why won't you open your heart to love, Vanessa!" His voice cracked tearfully. "Open your heart to love."

Jen sighed heavily, turning off the TV. But she saw a clear opening. She decided to take it.

"Y'know, Adam...speaking of babies...I was talking to Audrey and we were thinking how funny it would be if we totally trolled on my mom and told her I was pregnant at the wedding."

Adam laughed. "She'd flip out, that would be hilarious, babe."

Jen laughed. "Yeah...yeah, really funny...funny joke. But, uhm...what if...what if I actually--"

Adam interrupted, eager to get a word in on the topic at hand."The guys were totally ribbing me before. Y'know, this whole thing with Russell maybe having a kid, and Jeff and Audrey are gonna have two, so we're falling behind and everything."

"Ugh, yeah...yeah, the guys can be real jerks. We'll have a baby when we're ready, darn it!"

"Yeah! Yeah, when we're ready."

They both grew very quiet. Looked around, hummed lightly.

"So," said Adam finally. "When do you think we'll be ready?"

"Oh, you know, after...after all this craziness with the wedding, and everything. Unless..."

"Unless?" shot Adam quickly.

For awhile the couple stared into one another's eyes. And then Jen spoke again, carefully. She was nervous, she didn't want to give herself away too quickly.

"I mean, the wedding is keeping us so busy right now. My head is really hyper focused." Something about the look on Adam's face gave Jen the confidence she needed to proceed. She took a deep breath, ready to speak her mind. "But maybe if we--"

"See, that's exactly what I was thinking." Adam wasn't listening -- he was already in 'consider her feelings' mode, too quick to jump on whatever Jen was saying. "We shouldn't rush into anything, and you know I guess I'm...so busy with work, I...I guess. And. And the wedding, I know the wedding means a lot to you."

"Oh. Oh, well, I know work means a lot to you, so." Jen looked away, trying not to show any hint of emotion.

Adam turned away as well, face locked in disappointment.

This conversation had not gone as planned for either of them, and now, sitting in deafening silence, minds twirling with regret, they both tried their best to convince themselves that they were being very noble in taking one for the home team, and that patience was a virtue.

Jen stood, speaking softly. "I'm gonna go look at some more place settings online."

"Yeah, uh...okay, I'm just...I'm gonna..." But Jen had already retreated to the bedroom.

----------

Timmy had been sitting on the sofa in the living room staring at his computer for several minutes. His mother had logged onto Skype.

When Russell had asked him of his plans that morning, he'd hesitated in answering -- in truth, he'd known since the previous day exactly what today would entail. He needed to speak to his parents. He needed to tell them about Russell.

And now he stared at his mother's name on the screen, so near to him and yet so far away. Somehow Simran had convinced their parents that this would be easier for Timmy, communicating via web cam, that it was cheaper than frequent calls between countries, and that it would be comforting to see one another's faces. She had said it appeared they were eager to speak to him. Perhaps they were concerned, perhaps they could sense something was wrong with him, and this caused him to grow even more nervous. He knew that eventually he would have to push the button to connect to his mother, or that his parents would try to connect to him, and he would be forced to answer. It was only a matter of time.

Finally, in desperation, he looked to Simran's name on the screen. He called her, instead.

Upon connecting she immediately noted the dread on his face.

"What's going on, Timmy?"

He shook his head. "I can't do it."

"It's only mother and father, it's not an inquisition."

"Why does it feel like one? When I was dating Allison, do you know I never even told them about her? I'm almost relieved to have not had a steady relationship since then. It's always the exact same question--"

"I know the question," she said. "Are you seeing anyone? And then we say 'no,' and they say, 'we met a nice young Indian man.' Well, woman in your case. They have yet to actually try and arrange one for me, however. You sent one back, I think that sent a message."

"Yes, well, they keep trying. We'd be the first in the family not to fall in line with an arranged marriage."

"We're terrible rebels."

"And then it's always, 'Timir, you're nearly 30 years old and you need to start thinking about settling down.' So what am I to tell them? Oh, yes, well, you see, I've settled down with Russell Dunbar, you know, the 50 year old Caucasian man who made my life a living hell? I have an advanced case of Stockholm syndrome so he's now my gay lover." He waved his hands extravagantly. "Surprise!"

Simran shook her head with a slight smirk. "Hm. Always with the dramatics. How about this: you've settled down with Russell Dunbar, your best friend of several years who, while you've had more than your fair share of differences, has proven to be the most rock solid relationship you've ever had, regardless of his age, gender, or the color of his skin?"

"You see, I keep trying to look at it that way, but you haven't been here to see the things he's done to me while I was still working for him, it wasn't--"

"You're not working for him any longer. How is he acting now?"

Timmy looked away from Simran. "I believe he's trying to change."

Simran studied her brother's face carefully; she wished she was close enough to hold him in this moment, as he looked so lost and in need of being found and having some sense squeezed into him. Finally she arrived at a solution.

"We'll call mother, I'll connect as well. I won't leave you alone, we'll talk to them together."

He looked back to the screen. "Really?"

"Yes. And if you don't want to tell them about Russell today, I think that's fine...I think the important thing is you talk to them. It doesn't have to be one or the other, Timmy. Please don't cut off one arm in favor of the other. You can love many people at once. You might just find everyone will keep right on loving you, as well."

They ended their call. Timmy got up, paced the floor, made a cup of tea, hyperventilated a little. He thought about texting Russell, reconsidered, and sat back at his computer, eyes glazed over. He called Simran back, and he nodded, prompting her to add their mother to the call.

It rang, and rang, and rang...and she connected. The screen went black a moment, and he heard rustling on the other end. And finally, he saw the smiling face of his mother, Varsha. A sense of peace flooded over him and he smiled back at her.

"Timmy...I'm so glad to see you."

"Mother..."

"Is everything all right? Your father and I were growing concerned, it's not like you to grow so quiet. I'm sorry, your father wanted to speak to you today but he had to work, you know how busy that man keeps himself, it's always work, work, work. At any rate, Simran assured us you were fine, but you know I'm prone to worry..."

"I'm quite fine, actually, uhm...it's just I've been rather busy."

"I know your job takes up a lot of your time, as well. Like father, like son."

Timmy's eyes darted to Simran; her face was reassuring, comforting, and he looked back to his mother.

"Actually, I apologize for neglecting to tell you this earlier, but I'm between jobs at the moment..."

"Oh...oh no, what on earth happened?"

"Well, you see, uhm...I finally did what I've been saying I would do all these years and I left my employ with Mr. Dunbar. I did find another job, a much better one, but...and please don't panic, because I have everything under control, but it seems there was a problem with my work visa so I'm presently unemployed..."

Varsha appeared to be trying to stay calm, but her demeanor was breaking. "You'll be deported!"

"No, no! It's all under control, I'm not being deported, I sorted it out."

"Well, how are you paying your bills with no job? Are you eating? You look thin, are you living on the street?"

"Mother! Mother, I'm fine. I had amassed some savings and to save on rent I've taken on a roommate."

Simran nodded softly to herself. A roommate. That was certainly one way to go.

"A roommate? Well, what's he like?"

"You know him, actually." Timmy looked upward, let out a shaky breath, and plastered on a smile for his mother. "I've moved in with Russell."

Varsha looked a little surprised, but shook it off. "Oh, your...your former boss, Russell?"

"Yes."

"The one you just quit working for because you hated him? Why would you then move in with him?"

Timmy furrowed his brow, searching for an explanation. "Uhm, well, you see...it was like this, I...we sort of..."

Simran came to the rescue. "You met Russell recently, didn't you, Mother? You know Timmy greatly exaggerated what a terrible character he is. They're really quite good friends, from what I've seen it took ending their working relationship to realize that."

Varsha nodded. "Ah. Yes, working so closely together can create real tension."

Timmy swallowed firmly; oh, his mother had no idea what kind of tension it had created.

"So tell me then, are you seeing anyone?"

Timmy had a way out of this. "Seeing? As in dating? No."

Simran covered her mouth to hide her smirk. It seemed his answers were a bit more clever than she'd anticipated.

"Well," said Varsha, "I've met the sweetest Indian girl, I think you'd love her. You know, you're almost 30, Timir, it's time you started thinking about settling down."

"Yes, Mother, I know. Quite right."

There was an awkward silence amongst the group. Finally, Simran could take no more of this; she had a thought...she would take a chance. Clearing her throat, she gained the attention of Timmy and Varsha.

"What if...what if I were to tell you that I had in fact met someone?"

Varsha's eyes widened, her voice rising ever so slightly. "O-oh. You haven't mentioned this until now, uhm...what's his name?"

"...Her name."

Varsha sputtered softly. "Uh, uhm...wh-what was that?"

Timmy jumped in with a cautionary tone. "Simran, what are you talking about, what are you doing...?"

"What if I told you I was...perhaps...dating a woman?"

Varsha was staring blankly into the camera now, unable to formulate a proper sentence. "I...I would say that, uhm...are you...are you serious? Have you really...are you trying to tell us something right now, Simran?" Varsha's voice began to crack, the calm restitute she always carried falling gradually away. "Is...should your father be here, is this...some sort of...of 'coming out,' are we--"

Simran couldn't keep this up. "No--no, Mother, I was kidding. I was kidding, I'm sorry, no. There's no woman, Mother, I still like men, everything's alright."

Varsha was breathing heavily. She placed a hand to her chest. "Oh, child, why would you do something like that to your poor mother?"

Timmy was sinking in his seat. He didn't like where this was headed.

Simran feigned laughter; in reality she was growing just as concerned as Timmy. "I'm sorry, Mother, you know me, I do have a penchant for causing trouble...I just wanted to see how you'd react."

"Why on earth would you ever want to know how I'd react to such a thing?"

"What if I had been serious? It's just that...I've....recently acquired some friends who are in same sex relationships and it piqued my curiosity. You know, living in a westernized society and coming from Indian culture can be rather jarring sometimes."

"This is a bizarre line of questioning, Simran, why would you interject our visit with Timmy in this way?"

It was then that Varsha realized how quiet Timmy had grown during Simran's outburst, and she turned her attention to him; his body language was telling as he slumped further down, hiding, terrified.

"Timmy...? Timir?" Varsha's voice grew softer, serious. "Oh." As if perhaps she understood what was happening; as if perhaps it was all coming together. "Is...is there something you'd like to tell me, Timmy?"

Timmy straightened himself. "No, of course not, Mother, what on earth would there be to tell you?"

"Well, I just thought...perhaps..."

"I must echo Mother, Simran, why on earth would you bring up such an absurd topic right this minute? I mean, I know just as many same sex couples as you, I'm sure, but what it has to do with our present conversation is beyond me entirely."

All three grew quiet. Nobody dared say anything; it seemed there was little more to say.

Naturally, the situation could only get worse; Timmy heard the door open, and his heart raced in panic. He was sure it showed on his face, and as Russell entered the apartment he scrambled for an exit out of this situation, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the conversation.

He finally managed softly, "Russell's home," and Simran looked to him, concerned. Varsha managed a soft smile, putting on an air of naivete; or perhaps, Timmy hoped, she hadn't pieced it all together, after all.

Russell approached Timmy in the living room, sneaking a peek at the computer screen. "Hey, what's up, am I walking in on a little gherkin jerkin' or--?" He froze, and took several steps back, taking to whispering. "Oh my god, it's your mom."

Timmy looked to Russell with a nod. He forced his voice to remain calm. "It's okay, she knows we're roommates. Why don't you come and say hello?"

Russell sat down very carefully next to Timmy on the sofa; perhaps a little too close for comfort, he realized after the fact, their legs pressed firmly together.

"Uh, hey, Varsha. Simran. Lookin' good, ladies." He gave a sly wink and the women smiled.

"Russell," they both said in greeting.

"You're looking well," said Varsha. "I hear my son no longer works for you, but you're sharing an apartment? I'm glad you're friends, now. Look out for him, won't you? It's a big city."

Russell smiled warmly. "I do my best, but you know this kid, he's a real trouble maker."

"Pft, now we both know that isn't true at all. Homebody, nose in a book. If anything you have to push him out the door or he won't even get anywhere in which to find trouble in the first place."

"Well, he found me," laughed Russell. His smile dropped for a moment as he looked to Timmy; a quick look, but one filled with much needed answers to anybody who might be watching, questioning. "But uh, no, I'll keep my eye on him, don't worry. Nice seeing you again, Varsha, and tell Rahm I said namaste."

"Yes, I will. And Russell..." Varsha's face grew serious, her voice catching. She examined the men as they sat together on the sofa, her look one of contemplation, of hesitation. "Uhm, please...please be good to my son."

Russell nodded softly. "I promise, Ms. Patel."

She nodded back with a brief smile and looked down.

Russell looked to Timmy before stepping away nervously. He spoke very softly. "I'll be in the bedroom." He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

When he was gone, Timmy found the fortitude to speak. "Mother, I must tell you something. Russell and I--"

"We'll speak later."

They stared into one another's eyes across countries, mother and son. She knew, but she couldn't bear hearing it. Not right now, not yet.

Timmy let out a breath, shaking, trying not to cry.

"I love you, Timmy. More than anything, I love my children. Nothing will ever change that. We'll talk about this later."

"I love you too, Mother."

After Varsha had disconnected, there was a long silence between Timmy and Simran. It seemed he couldn't look at her. Finally, she spoke.

"I'm so sorry, Timmy. Please say something..."

"Simran, I really wish you hadn't done that."

"I'm sorry, please forgive me, I know it was foolish, but I felt I had to do something..."

"You're not usually so foolhardy, why would you do something like that?"

"I didn't mean for it to happen that way, I don't know what came over me, I--"

"Thank you, Simran. I never would have brought myself to tell her. Thank you."

They looked to one another. Timmy's face was lost someplace, afraid and distant, but she could tell he was sincere.

"It will all be okay, Timmy. She wasn't angry."

"No, on the contrary." It was clear from Timmy's voice that he was trying to hold back tears. "She appeared devastated...as if I had broken her heart."

"I don't think so. Please, just give it a little time."

"Well...well, Russell was well behaved, at least."

Simran smiled gently. "Yes, he made a good impression."

"I believe so, yes, although I'm not sure what difference it makes. I'm sorry, I think I should go. If you'll excuse me--"

"Go. Be with him."

----------

Russell had been laying in bed staring at the ceiling, face locked in a state of mild dread. He was sure he'd messed up somehow in front of Varsha; he was sure the chips were falling. But mostly he was sure Timmy would enter the bedroom a complete mess, and he was preparing himself mentally to help put him back together. He wasn't good at this, being an emotional support system. He was trying, but he knew he sucked at it, and now as Timmy entered the bedroom his nerves went haywire, but he remained still, forcing himself to wait for Timmy to make the first move.

"Russell..." Timmy's voice creaked out softly.

Russell sat up slowly in bed. "Is everything okay?"

Timmy's voice was cracking. He was trying desperately not to cry; somehow, he still didn't want to appear vulnerable. "Yes. No, I...I don't know."

"Does she know?"

"Yes. I think. But she didn't want to discuss it." Timmy looked around, trying to divert from the situation. "Did...did you see Emily, then? You got the test taken care of?"

Russell shook his head with a scoff. "Yeah. Yeah, that happened, but Timmy, that doesn't matter right now, what--"

"Did that...that went all right, then?"

"It went fine. Larry sorta creeped on her, kind of had to knock the guy around a little but...Tim, what's going on here, huh, are you okay? Your mom...she knows, like, she definitely knows about us?"

"Yes. Yes, she does. Russell..."

"What, Tim, what do you need?"

"Russell..."

"Yeah, that's my name, don't wear it out."

"Russell, please catch me." Timmy's legs began to give way, and Russell jumped quickly from the bed, grabbing him just in time. As Timmy collapsed into Russell's arms, he fell into sobbing.

"Timmy...oh, shit...no, no, no..." Russell led Timmy to the bed, where he proceeded to curl into a fetal position and continued to cry the hardest Russell had ever seen him cry. Russell stood by the bed, stunned and speechless, at a loss. Timmy was broken; how could he fix him?

"Timmy...hey-- hey, Tim...please...oh, god..."

"She'll...she'll never speak to me again..."

"No, she will, she's your mom, she loves you...she loves the crap out of you, I know, I've seen you guys together, and your dad, your dad is cool too, your family is cool. And your sister, you know Simran has your back, she'll stick up for you. Listen, we'll...you'll be okay."

Timmy wouldn't stop crying.

Russell was on the brink of tears. "Timmy...honey? Baby?"

Timmy spoke through sobs. "Why?! Why are you calling me those things?!"

Russell was cry-talking, now. "I don't know! I don't know what I'm saying!"

"It sounds idiotic! Don't call me pet names, it's ridiculous! You're so stupid!"

"I know, I'm stupid, I'm fucking stupid!"

"No..." Timmy's sobs were slowing slightly. "I-I'm sorry. Perhaps...perhaps I like it...sort of...maybe..."

"What? Yeah...?" Russell scrambled for solutions, settling on letting his mouth spit out words faster than his brain could think. "Tim...honey, I love you, I love you so much. Please...calm down, huh? Listen, so your mom might disown you, whatever, crying so hard you puke your guts out isn't gonna help any. Then I've just got a husband with guts all over the floor, you married a dude and got disowned just so you can lose your guts, lotta good you do me then and I mean the floors are a mess and stuff and I've gotta call the cleaning lady on her day off, what the hell's the point? Come on."

By all accounts this shouldn't have helped matters any. Any reasonable person might have seen this line of dialogue as entirely counter-productive...but Timmy's sobbing ceased entirely now, so abruptly that Russell grew concerned until he heard it replaced by laughter, a sort of strange, bizarre mixture of laughter and tears, but at least it wasn't sobbing.

"My god, you're an imbecile," managed Timmy, and he grew very quiet. Almost too quiet. Numb. Lost.

Russell sat beside him now and ran a hand instinctively through his hair. "Gonna make it...?"

Timmy didn't answer. Instead, he found the strength to scoot himself up, laying his head on Russell's lap. Russell continued petting his head awkwardly. He just wanted to get this right. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he was pretty sure he was messing up this whole comforting-the-spouse thing. He never did anything right.

But it was at times like this that Russell had developed a system of trying to understand what was going on with Timmy: What would have happened a year ago? A year ago, he told himself, Timmy would never have had his head in his lap. A year ago, he never would have let him call him honey. A year ago, Timmy never would have been crying on his bed in his apartment after having just come out to his mom as anything other than straight...because of him...

"...Russell?"

"Yeah, Tim."

"I love you."

Russell assured himself he must be doing something right, after all.

Chapter 9: Labels

It had been a difficult night. Russell had taken on a very strange role as caretaker to Timmy, who was still shaken from having just come out to his mother. He'd made tea, drawn a bath, attempted to massage Timmy's shoulders, anything that seemed like a stereotypical romantic gesture. Timmy wasn't sure how to feel about the whole thing...he could never quite understand when Russell acted so much the antithesis of himself. But something was happening every time he did, layers gradually peeling away from the years of abuse. There were a lot of layers to peel away, but each one erased a touch of hatred, replaced it with a touch of affection.

As much as Timmy had tried to resist it, he was falling more and more in love with Russell every day. Oh, make no mistake, there were too many problems to count. But as he watched him this morning, toiling away in the kitchen over breakfast, having just burnt the second batch of toast and taking a bite out of the blackened bread to cover his pride, Timmy knew somehow that he was precisely where he needed to be.

"Russell...?"

Russell forced himself to swallow his charred breakfast. "Yeah, babe?"

Timmy flinched slightly -- although he'd granted permission to use pet names, he wasn't used to it. "Uhm, thank you for last night...and for everything."

"What do you mean, everything?" Russell placed a plate in front of Timmy consisting of runny eggs, pink bacon, and burnt toast. He picked it immediately back up, shoving it back onto the counter. "Yeah, don't eat that, go to the diner or something. What, am I trying to kill you?"

Russell turned to walk away, and Timmy grabbed his arm. The men made eye contact, Timmy's face soft, thoughtful. "Russell, I hope you realize something. These last few weeks, I've struggled to make a decision...I chose you. Thank you for making yourself worthy of that choice."

Russell laughed softly. "Man. Dumb choice, probably."

Timmy stood, grabbing Russell by the shoulders. "Why must you constantly do that?"

"Do what?"

"Put yourself down. Before we were together romantically, all you ever did was talk yourself up, I've never known you to be anything other than a complete and total egomaniac. If I were to make a list of the things I hate about you, it would be right up there along with voracious hypersexual and unrefined--"

"Were you going somewhere with this, Tim?"

"Why now, why the passing snide remarks against yourself?"

"I don't know. Guess all I've ever heard was how I wasn't good enough. When I'm alone, that's when it comes out, or when I'm with family, well, they say it for me. So, like...I'm talking for my parents, I guess."

"There's this whole other side of you in which you berate yourself in this way? So...so you're comfortable enough with me to let your guard down." Russell looked away uncomfortably. "Your parents aren't here, Russell. You're a grown man, I've just paid you a compliment. It's taken me quite awhile to arrive at a place where I could pay you such a compliment, and I meant it. Please take it."

Russell looked back at Timmy's face, studying him carefully. How could somebody care so much about him? God, he was beautiful. "I wish I could tell them about us, Tim. I wish I could tell my dad to fuck off, I wish..." He shook his head. "You might've just given up your family for me and I can't even suck it up for a jackass who doesn't give two shits about me. I'm sorry, dude, but that was seriously stupid of you to do that. I'm not...I'm not worth it. I know what you just said, but I'm not."

Timmy wrapped his arms gently around Russell, now. "Shut up."

"Yeah, but Tim--"

"Just shut up. I've made my decision. Please, shut up."

Russell sighed out heavily. "I don't deserve you."

"You're right, I'll give you that one," said Timmy. "You don't. But I'm here for some reason, so take it and shut up."

Russell laughed against Timmy's shoulder. "Yeah...okay."

----------

Timmy hadn't forgotten...he hadn't forgotten the feelings of animosity, the fact that everything in his life had changed in such a short period of time and he was still floating, unsure of where he was in the universe aside from being Russell's husband. He hadn't forgotten about the condoms in Russell's pockets. But as always, as he had done for five long years, he forgave rather easily, realizing that his affection for this feeble, flawed man somehow allowed him to pretend the rest didn't matter.

The storm was coming soon enough.

Jen had invited Timmy out with her and Audrey for coffee. At first he'd been reluctant; he didn't like the direction this was headed, becoming one of the 'girls'. He missed being one of the guys, he craved the company of the men, some much needed testosterone, but he was developing a true connection with Jennifer that they'd never had before, and he appreciated this. Indeed, she was the one person in the circle who seemed genuinely accepting of him and Russell now, without pretense or awkwardness, and he'd been able to confide in her in recent days when he felt otherwise alone in the world.

She granted him a friendly smile and a nudge on the shoulder. "I love this place, but the prices are nuts. And the coffee really isn't that great."

"You invited me to an overpriced coffee shop where they sell mediocre coffee? Thank you, Jennifer, so glad I could make it."

"Pft, hush. It's an atmosphere thing. And I'm paying."

They ordered their coffee and some assorted pastries and set about looking for a table.

"So Timmy, what happened yesterday? Your text was super vague."

Timmy looked around the little coffee shop as they sat down, brightly lit and plastered in colorful decor. There wasn't much of a crowd, and Audrey hadn't arrived yet. "Yes, I had an awful night, but I...I don't know if I want to talk about it."

Jen placed a hand to Timmy's arm gently. "Well, listen, I'm here if you need to talk."

"It's just..." He sighed out. "Yes, well, I spoke with my mother."

Jen gasped lightly. "No, oh my god, really?"

"In retrospect, it wasn't a complete disaster, but she didn't want to talk about it and we sort of just left it hanging in the air. I didn't actually tell her, she inferred from the situation. It was strange, it was very strange, I still can't figure out precisely what happened, and I believe if I speak much more about it I'll make a fool of myself and--" He shook his head. "Mm, no."

It was now that Audrey joined them at the table, greeting them both with a smile.

"Sorry I'm late, Jeff has the baby but it's sort of like pulling teeth. I still have to do a little walk through with him, y'know? He's scared to change a diaper, I kid you not he puts on a mask and gloves each time, and don't get me started on nap time, I think he cries more than she does. I have to leave him with a list about a mile long, it's just...it's crazy."

"I guess it's a mom thing," said Jen. "It's okay to be over-protective, men need guidance with this stuff, they don't know what they're doing. They can barely take care of themselves, is it any wonder you'd worry about leaving him alone with a baby?"

The women laughed lightly and then looked to Timmy apologetically, laughs dissipating.

"You're not like most men," Jen assured sincerely.

"It's all right," said Timmy. "A bit of harmless jest, I quite understand, both sides give as good as they get. Fascinating being on this side of the fence for a change. I concur at any rate that Jeff doesn't quite strike me as Mister Mom."

"Well, that's not really fair of me," said Audrey, "he's learning."

"I don't know how I'd handle fatherhood," said Timmy thoughtfully. "Oh...I suppose...I suppose this isn't something I'll be finding out anytime soon...not that I wanted to, I just hadn't thought much of that. Of the possibility being stripped away. Odd, there's always something new to think about in all of this."

"Never know," said Jen. "Same sex couples have kids all the time now, don't write it off just yet."

"Hmm..." Audrey clicked her tongue thoughtfully. "Y'know if that test turns out, you're technically a step-dad already."

"Step-father to a woman what -- five, six years younger than me? Delightful." Timmy took a sip of his coffee now, and grabbed a bear claw from the center of the table, taking a large bite. He spoke with a full mouth. "Good grief, I forget how old he is sometimes."

"On the upside," said Jen, "you'll never have to change her diaper, or burp her, or give her a bath."

Timmy reiterated: "She's a young, attractive woman who hereditarily resembles the man I presently engage in sex with on a regular basis, Jennifer. Giving her a bath frankly doesn't strike me as such a repulsive proposition." He took another sip of coffee, then eyed both women sheepishly, realizing what he had just said. "Oh...oh dear, did I just say that aloud? Not that I would ever entertain such a thought, I just meant to say that...the way you phrased it..." He took another bite, shutting himself up.

Jen was grinning. "Timmy! I like this side of you." She nudged his arm playfully. "You've got kind of a dirty streak behind that prim and proper facade."

"I knew," said Audrey. "It's always the quiet ones. Plus, remember how long he's been hanging around with Russell, that man's bound to have poisoned his mind a little."

"Indeed, you're not wrong, at that." Timmy looked back to Jen. "Speaking of all this, children and what not, I believe you texted me yesterday and said you were going to fess up to Adam about your pangs for motherhood."

"Ah!" Audrey grew excited. "How'd it go?"

Jen shrunk a bit. "Oh, no. That didn't work out..."

Audrey reached for Jen's hand. "Oh, I'm sorry, hon. What did he say? I thought for sure he'd be on board."

"I didn't even get to ask him...he didn't sound like he was really into the idea, I dropped it." She turned her face down sadly. "Maybe it's for the best."

Timmy shook his head. "Now that's no kind of attitude to have. You need to march right back up to Adam and try again, tell him how you feel about this. This clearly means a great deal to you."

"We barely talked last night," she said. "I don't know, there was something in the air like we didn't want to talk about it...I'm not sure what happened."

"So we both had less than stellar evenings," Timmy concluded. "I'm so sorry. Please give it another chance, what harm can it do? Adam is hardly a menacing figure...he's your husband, he cares deeply for you. If you can't face him, then who on earth can you face?"

Jen gave a weak smile. "Thanks, Timmy, you're right. I don't know why I'm being so weird about this."

Audrey turned to Timmy. "You had a rough night, too?"

"Oh..." Timmy looked to Jen as if for assistance.

Jen looked back questioningly. "Is it okay to tell Audrey?"

Timmy nodded.

"He came out to his mom yesterday."

Audrey's eyes went wide. "Oh...oh, wow. Your parents didn't know until now?"

Timmy hadn't wanted to discuss this further. He let out a heavy breath, sipped his coffee, gathered his thoughts. "My family is native Indian. The climate in India regarding homosexuality is, uhm...still not...not particularly positive. Quite the opposite, in fact. I'm rather afraid of the repercussions."

"Your parents seemed pretty liberal when I met them," said Jen.

"They're quite traditionally Indian, but seeing as Simran and I are so Westernized, I suppose that yes, they've grown more liberal as a result," said Timmy. "But...but not to this extent. Not to the extent that their son would suddenly come out as gay." He shook his head. "No, not gay. Bi...bisexual." He sighed. "I don't know, I don't know anymore."

"Well, what word did you use yesterday?" asked Audrey.

"We didn't get that far. There were certain implications, Russell spoke to her very briefly, she told him to be good to me...I tried to talk to her and she cut me off. I have no idea what I intended to say to her. How do I explain this to my mother when I barely understand it myself? Russell and I have discussed this at great length and I...I don't know what I am, anymore. I'm not generally attracted to men."

"But you're attracted to Russell," said Jen.

"Am I? Well, yes, I suppose I am..."

Audrey asked her next question with a great deal of hesitation. "What...exactly do you find attractive about Russell?"

"Oh, please don't ask me that."

"Just idle curiosity."

Timmy inhaled through his teeth, searching for a response. "Well, I suppose it's his...well, he's got quite a nice..." He exhaled sharply. "It's not so much the way he looks, it's uhm...it's the things he does." The women both sneered mildly at this, confused.

Audrey shook her head. "He does terrible things. Particularly to you."

Timmy tried to elaborate. "Not...not those things. And honestly, he's really made an effort to try and treat me more like a human being and less like--"

"A piece of dirt?" said Audrey.

"Pond scum?" offered Jen.

"I'm feeling less like dirt or scum these days, yes. I mean to say, it's the...the other things he does."

Jen nodded in recognition. "Ohhhhh."

Audrey turned to her. "What?"

"He means sex."

Audrey sneered a little harder. "Oh."

Timmy was quick to amend Jen's answer. "No no no...well, I suppose, but no, uhm. I mean to say...once we actually...once we were actually together something happened. He changed somehow, he's bizarrely gentle with me at times...he extends a very real effort to care for me, I don't really know how to explain this." He thought a moment, a very subtle smile coming across his face. "He does have nice eyes. Funny, before all this I really couldn't have told you what color his eyes even were."

"What color are they?" questioned Audrey.

"Blue, he has blue eyes."

Jen scoffed. "What? No, he doesn't, does he seriously?"

"Trust me, his eyes are blue. I've spent a lot of time staring into those eyes, late at night when the world is drifting away and it's just the two of us..." Timmy's voice was softening, growing dreamy. "There's something behind those eyes that holds all at once some sort of grand mystery and all the comforts of the universe in those moments. And then he smiles so very gingerly and there's a sparkle to those eyes as if the cosmos have just shifted in order to reach out and speak to me, as if to say he'd been sent for this very purpose, to reveal to me this very secret...that I'm not alone."

The women stared at Timmy, silently, until he looked back at them. Realizing he had just waxed poetic over something as stupid as Russell's eyes, realizing how utterly ridiculous he had sounded, he slouched a bit in his chair with a heavy sigh. "And this is why I've taken to drinking in recent days."

Audrey cleared her throat, choosing her words carefully. "Timmy, that was...wow, maybe the most beautiful, most romantic thing I've heard in my entire life. Early romance is amazing sometimes. Jeff used to write me love letters."

Jen gushed. "No!"

"He did," said Audrey. "Super romantic. Nothing like that, but...well, romantic for Jeff. He once referred to my breasts as basketballs and his heart as the court of love and...well, not the greatest example."

Timmy shook his head. "But isn't that sort of thing for people who've just met and started courting? I mean, we've known each other for so long..."

"Yeah, but there's a real shift when you decide to take that plunge," said Audrey. "Can you really imagine fawning over Russell's eyes before now?"

"Oh, good heavens, no, I'd have been more inclined to blacken them -- I still am, frankly, but I suppose the impulse is waning...he really has changed."

"Hm, and that's all you, y'know? Can't believe how much you've changed him, I didn't think it was possible. Gotta hand it to ya."

"Listen," said Jen, arriving at a conclusion. "Here's what you tell your mom. You're obviously not gay. Maybe you guys aren't even bi. You know what you clearly are? Russellsexual."

Timmy shook his head with a mild laugh. "Uhm...what?"

"Russellsexual. You're into Russell, and he's Timmysexual, he's into you. Why do you need to define it past that? Labels are for canned goods. You're not a canned good, Timmy."

Timmy smiled. For the first time something made sense, something clicked, and his confusion seemed a little less intense. "That's lovely, Jennifer. Thank you."

"Any time."

----------

Jen and Timmy opted to swing by the office on their way home to pawn off on Adam and Russell the extra crullers and donuts from the coffee shop -- their eyes had been far bigger than their stomachs.

They stopped by Adam's office.

"Surprise!" said Jen, holding out a bag.

"Hey, what is this...?"

"Pastry delivery," said Timmy. He had pulled out his phone and taken to texting Russell.

"Oh, sweet!" He looked to Jen with a grin. "Am I supposed to tip, or...?"

Jen walked to Adam and pecked him sweetly on the lips. "There. Tip received."

Russell came bounding into Adam's office. Timmy turned to him, confused. "I texted you 30 seconds ago, how on earth--"

"Smelled donuts." He walked swiftly past Timmy, snatching a donut from the bag in Adam's hand. He turned slowly back towards Timmy. "Oh, uh...also...heeeyyyy, you came to see me!" He walked up to Timmy, wrapping his arms around him, navigating the donut back to his mouth over Timmy's shoulder.

"Yes, well...I realize I rank only slightly below baked goods, so no harm, no foul."

As Russell went back for another donut, Timmy spoke.

"Jennifer's invited us out to dinner tonight."

"Yeah," she said, "you guys are under so much stress right now, I thought you could use a night out. Just the four of us...well, I might invite my friend Allison to come along. She's pretty laid back, not a big deal. She's had trouble meeting guys since she moved back to town, thought we could check out the action at the bar after dinner while you guys hung out."

Russell shrugged. "Sure, whatever." He looked to Timmy. "You feeling up to that, are you okay?"

Timmy nodded. "Yes, I think so."

Russell gave him a serious look. "You sure? I mean..."

"I'm okay, Russell. I'll be okay."

Jen looked to Russell with a curious expression. She approached him, staring him straight in the eyes. He sneered at her, confused, and finally she walked away with a satisfied smile, looking to Timmy with a nod. "Yeah, they're blue." Timmy returned the smile knowingly.

Russell walked to Timmy, pointing a thumb back towards Jen. "What--"

Timmy cut him off. "So, I was thinking..." He looked to Jen and Adam, considering whether this was a conversation to be had in front of others. He grabbed Russell by the arm, leading him to the hall. "Excuse us, won't you?"

Outside Adam's office, Russell took to licking donut remnants off his fingers. "What was that about?"

"I just wanted you alone a moment."

Russell raised a brow. Timmy rolled his eyes.

"I was thinking that perhaps sometime next week, permitted the results go the way you're wanting...you and I should go out with Emily."

"Really?"

"Yes. I feel perhaps I've been a bit standoffish in this situation. It's important to you, and it's important to me as well. I'd like to get to know her."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, I'll let her know." Russell reached for Timmy's hand. "That...that means a lot to me."

Timmy nodded with a smile. "I know."

Back inside the office, Jen was watching Adam sloppily eat a donut, the powdered sugar covering his face. He looked so much like a child, sweet and innocent. She was trying to take Timmy's advice...she wanted to bring it up now, right now, get it out in the open. She repeated the sentence in her head over and over: Adam, I want to have a baby. She was about to say it, she had opened her mouth to speak when--

"Hey, Jen?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you get any of those donuts with the jelly in the middle? I love those, those kick ass."

...Maybe she'd try again later.

----------

Jen had chosen a semi-casual restaurant with an attached bar by the name of Rocky's. Burgers and beer, she said, what more could you ask for? The guys all agreed that sounded pretty good right about now, and nobody was in the mood for anything stuffier. Jen notified the group that her friend was merely running a few minutes late and they found a table, proceeding to sit and discuss the menu.

Russell tapped Timmy on the shoulder. "Wanna split something?"

"I know better. Splitting with you means I get your table scraps. Like a dog."

"Nah, not anymore, you've been elevated from dog status."

Jen leaned her chin on her hand and looked to Russell whimsically. "Awh. He says the most romantic things."

"Har-de-har-har." Russell stood, bounding from the table. "Just order something, if it's food, I'll eat it. I'm gonna go drain the ol' snake, don't wait up."

Timmy stood with a slight grimace. "Charming. In any case, I believe I'll follow suit. And yes, I'm sure whatever you order will be just fine." He turned to walk away, then turned back around. "But he won't eat a burger if it's too well done, just a note..." Again he turned to leave, and again he turned back around. "And no onions, he'll throw a terrible fit over onions..." Once more he turned away, and then-- "And if the fries are too crispy he'll-- you know what, we'll order when we return, excuse me just a moment."

With Timmy and Russell gone, Jen focused her attention back on Adam, who was focused fully on the menu. Maybe this was the perfect opportunity...maybe she could fit it in right now... Hey, Adam, let's have a baby!

"Hey, Adam--"

"You know what sounds really good? Pie. Do they have pie here?"

Jen groaned, letting her head hit the table -- she had Adam's attention now. "Uh, Jen? You okay?"

"Fine," she muttered against the table. "Just fine." She picked her head up with a sigh. "I really need to talk to you about something, Adam! Can you stop thinking about food for five seconds and just--"

"Oh, my God!"

"Well, geez, I'm sorry if that's too much to ask, Sir Eats-A-Lot...."

Adam pointed towards the entrance; he looked and sounded as if he'd just seen a ghost. "It's Allison...honey, it's Allison..."

Jen turned around. "Oh!" She smiled a broad smile and waved towards the woman now making her way towards them. When she finally looked back to Adam, realizing he was stunned speechless, she waved a hand in front of his face, looking for a response. "Adam?" Finally, she resorted to shaking him. "Adam!"

"It's Allison..."

"Yeah, of course it's Allison, I invited--" A pause. A realization. "Wait, you've never even met her, how did you recognize her?"

"Timmy's Allison..."

Jen's voice went soft, stunned. "Wait...Timmy's ex, Allison?"

"Yes."

"...The one Russell called a skank?"

"Yes."

Panic hit. "...No!"

"Yes, Jen, yes!"

"Oh, my God!! I didn't know, I swear I didn't know!!" She looked all around her in desperation. "Uhm, uhm, uhm, the guys are still in the bathroom, go, go, go!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do?!"

"I don't know, Adam, just keep them in there, don't let them see her! She's almost here, just go!"

"I can't keep them in the bathroom forever!"

"JUST GO!"

----------

Russell and Timmy were about to walk out of the bathroom when Adam bombarded them. Casually. Casual bombardment, with a wide, casual grin. Nothing major.

"So, how have you guys been?"

Russell and Timmy looked to one another, then back to Adam, curiously.

"We're fine," said Timmy. "But uh-- why are we having this conversation in the restroom?"

"As opposed to...?"

"As opposed to not the restroom."

Adam fumbled for an excuse. He forced laughter, hit Timmy on the shoulder. "Hey, come on, guys! A little mano a mano time, huh? Before the ladies cramp our style."

"Well," said Timmy, "first of all, you just suggested we engage in hand to hand combat."

"He's got a point though," shot in Russell sarcastically, "it's crazy macho in here. The urinals and eau de pee what's doin' it for ya there, all manned up, are we? Come on, let's get outta here."

Adam put up his arms, blocking Russell and Timmy from moving any further. "No, no, no...uh...hey, the acoustics in here are awesome!" He repeated himself harmonically, singing lightly. "No, no, no...staaaaay in the baaaathrooom....heeeey, hey, hey..."

Timmy and Russell were staring now, slack jawed.

"It's really fuuuun in the--" Adam dropped his arms. "Okay, I'm starting to feel a little stupid."

Timmy nodded. "You are a little stupid."

"You're a lot of stupid," corrected Russell. "What the hell is this, why are we standing here singing in bathroom?"

"You know what would be better?" said Adam, trying to retain his cover. "A guitar. These acoustics are perfect for guitars!"

"None of us can even play a guitar," said Timmy.

"I've seen you guys play guitar," said Adam. "You guys can rock a guitar."

Timmy was growing exasperated. "I barely know one chord, and the last time I played it led an entire restaurant to think I was in a homosexual relation--" he looked to Russell, then looked down a moment. "Yes, well." Then, back to Adam: "Listen, I'm having a lovely time, really, but I think it's time to leave."

Adam wriggled almost violently, seeking a solution. "No, no, you can't, I--" He grabbed Russell by the arm, leading him into a stall. He turned back to Timmy. "Cover your ears and hum."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it, cover your ears and hum!!"

"This is ludicrous, why do I hang out with you people?" Timmy groused, but did as requested as Adam closed the stall door behind him and Russell.

Russell looked fit to punch Adam in the face.

"Okay, don't freak out, seriously, I have to tell you something, don't shoot the messenger!"

"So just tell me already!!"

Adam listened to make sure Timmy was humming. He spoke through the door: "Timmy, can you hear me?"

He received back a mild: "A little."

"Hum louder!"

Timmy hummed louder.

Adam whispered close to Russell's face. "Allison is out there!"

"...Yeah, Jen's lame friend Allison was coming to dinner, I know that, why the hell are you coming on to me to tell me that, what are we gonna make out? Back it up, geez!"

Adam backed up a little, growing slightly more frantic. "No-- dude-- Allison, Allison. Timmy's ex-girlfriend, Allison."

Russell froze. Deadpan. And then his eyes widened. "No way."

"Yes way."

Russell was frozen; he was malfunctioning.

"We didn't know it was the same Allison, and we just didn't want you guys to freak out or anything or-- Russell?" Russell was staring blankly through Adam. Nothing. No response. "Oh my god, why did I tell you?! This was a terrible idea!" Adam hit himself in the head. "Ngh, Adam, what are you doing?! I'll try to get rid of her, Russell, don't freak out, okay, just don't freak out..."

All at once, Russell left the stall and walked back to Timmy, yanking his hands from his ears, cutting off his humming. "You can't go out there."

"Why not...? What's happening?"

Russell was locked in place, staring at Timmy, unable to speak, petrified. Adam inched his way out of the stall, past Russell and Timmy.

"I'm...I'm just gonna...ah, crap!" And with that he left the bathroom, head hung in shame.

"Russell, this is absurd, what on earth is going on?"

Timmy found himself being dragged back to the stall Russell and Adam had just left a moment ago. Russell pinned his back firm against the side of the stall. "I can't let you go out there."

"Russell..." Timmy lowered his voice to a reprimanding whisper. "I know we've gotten a little strange as of late, but sex in a public restroom is where I draw the line."

"No, I'm not...!" Russell paused thoughtfully, biting a lip. He looked Timmy up and down with a soft growl, shaking the thought away. "There's...there's somebody...you just can't go out there until the coast is clear."

"What in heaven's name are you talking about?"

Russell closed his eyes, leaning his head against Timmy's chest. He knew he couldn't keep him here; he'd have to let him go. He'd have to trust that everything would be okay.

No -- he's yours. Don't let him go. Wait a minute; just a minute. She'll be gone in a minute.

He had to trust him...

Russell led Timmy back out of the stall, back to the bathroom door. He opened the door and peered out; he could see her, sitting at the bar with Jen. There she was...that stupid little redheaded mouse, that bimbo, stay away from my man you little--

"Russell, what's going on?"

Russell sighed, moving over, pointing. "Allison."

"Jennifer's friend Allison?" Timmy scanned the crowd. He saw her. He froze. His voice sank down softly. "Oh--oh, my god. That's-- that's my Allison."

Russell glared at Timmy. He didn't like how he'd phrased that -- his Allison. Perhaps Timmy realized this, because he quickly back peddled.

"That...that is...is to say, Allison whom I used to...used to date."

Timmy's voice was nervous. Russell was regretting his decision.

"Don't go out there," said Russell flatly. A command...perhaps more so a request, pleading, begging.

Timmy looked to Russell with a furrowed brow, confused. "Why? What on earth do you think will happen if I go out there?"

Russell's face was letting his feelings through. Apprehension, fear.

"You're scared. You're jealous."

"No."

"Yes...yes, you are. You're being ridiculous, it's been over between Allison and I for years. I can speak to somebody I was once involved with and have it mean nothing, nothing at all. You speak to Liz..."

"I hate Liz! Look at Allison and tell me you don't still wanna hit that."

Timmy looked back at Allison...he said nothing.

"Yeah, exactly. Don't go out there."

"You're being ridiculous."

Russell watched Timmy go. For awhile he stood, shocked, focused on each step Timmy took, his heart racing faster and faster. And then his fear was replaced with something else...frustration, anger. Timmy had made a choice. Wrong choice, buddy. Wrong fucking choice. He followed him, slamming the bathroom door with a growl.

Notes:

Timmy: Eye color? / Adam: Black? / Jen: I've never seen his eyes, he's always staring at my boobs. / Audrey: Is beady a color? - S6E14

Chapter 10: Trust

Notes:

Heavy chapter. We'll get lighter, I promise.

A few minutes earlier...

Allison had entered the restaurant, walking closer and closer towards Jen and Adam; panic was setting in.

Jen hadn't known it was the same Allison, the random girl from the gym, the one she'd become friendly with in recent days. How could she have known? In the brief time Timmy and Allison were dating, she'd never chanced to meet her. She'd heard passing mention of her back in the day from Adam -- there's this girl at work that Timmy's dating, man they're really going at it, who knew he had it in him? At some point there had to have been talk of a breakup, or at any rate she'd known he was unattached. But Jen wasn't very observant at times, she really wasn't a very good listener when it didn't strike her interest. And now it had led to a mistake of perhaps monumental proportions.

She genuinely liked Timmy, they were becoming good friends, and she'd accidentally invited his ex out to dinner. He was currently hauled up with Russell in the bathroom. Russell, who had recently revealed himself as the possessive, jealous type, and was harboring some weird, retrospective animosity for the woman currently approaching them.

Well, this was just great.

She ordered Adam to follow the men to the bathroom, to keep them there, to not let them see her. She wasn't sure what else to do; she watched him leave and set about trying to figure out how to distract Allison, to get rid of her, something, anything, but before she could begin to make a plan, Allison reached her, warm smile and relaxed, as though nothing were wrong at all. Oh, Allison.

"Hi, Jen! Was that your husband? I barely caught a glimpse, he sure ran off in a hurry."

Jen forced a laugh. "Oh, he just had some bad...sausage earlier, you know how it goes, running to the bathroom all night."

Allison sneered softly. "Oh. I'm...I'm sorry?"

"Let's go to the bar, you look like you could use a good stiff drink, you look really pent up, are you pent up, you want a drink? Let's have a drink!" Jen took a deep breath. Dial it back, woman.

Allison took a small step back. "No, I'm...I'm not pent up, I feel great. But sure, I'll take a drink." They started for the bar. "Weren't we meeting with a couple of your friends? Where are they?"

"They ate the sausage, too."

"Oh..."

The women took their seats at the bar and were greeted a moment later by a tall, dark-haired bartender, flashing pearly whites. "What can I get you ladies?"

Allison returned a flirtatious grin. "I'll just have a--"

"Scotch," said Jen gruffly. "Hold the rocks."

Allison shot Jen a glance.

"Never mind. Beer. Just bring us whatever's on tap."

"You ladies sure you're old enough?" The bartender flashed his cheesy grin again as the ladies retrieved their IDs, eliciting a giggle from Allison.

"What's the name, red?"

"Allison."

"Scott. You new around here?"

"Oh, no, been here awhile."

As he went about retrieving their drinks, Jen nudged Allison a few too many times and leaned in, whispering. "Maybe he gets off work soon, maybe he wants to take you out, huh? Ready to get out of here?"

Allison dropped her smile, looking to Jen in confusion. "I just got here...aren't we waiting for your husband and your friends to get back?"

The bartender returned, plunking drinks down in front of the ladies. "Well, Allison, and--"

"Jen."

"Allison and Jen. If you're looking for something to do after this..."

The women sat on the edge of their seats.

"...my boyfriend and I love the new show playing downtown, you should definitely go check it out, it's a blast and a half."

Jen's head hit the counter as the bartender walked away. Finally, she looked back to Allison and wriggled in her chair a bit, flustered, seeking a solution, attempting to keep her voice steady. Don't freak out. Everything's fine. "Hey, how about you and me go do something else?"

"And just leave your husband here?"

"I'll let him know. Tonight is all about you, Allison. The scene in here isn't looking all that great, I mean...we've got baldie to the right over here, I'm spotting Mr. Hawaiian Shirt with ketchup stain over there, these are not good prospects. I know a club downtown that just opened up, super happening."

"Clubs aren't really my thing...I don't really go for club guys..." She leaned gently on a hand. "Then again, I haven't had much luck lately, maybe there's some diamonds in the rough."

Jen was on a roll now. She was loosening up. "There you go. And really, you wanna hang around with the losers I brought tonight? All Adam does is talk, he never shuts up, talk talk talk all the time, and he seems to be on this weird kick about pie, I mean...god, shut up about pie!" Stop while you're ahead. "And seriously...Timmy and Russell basically just spend all their time insulting each other. 'Oh, you're a sleaze ball,' 'oh, I'm going to say something racially stereotyping!', I mean it gets really boring, Allison."

Allison did a double-take. Jen slapped a hand across her mouth.

"Wait, did you just say Timmy and Russ--"

"Hello, Allison."

Allison turned her head gently; her eyes met with Timmy's. For a time, neither of them spoke, looking to one another in something of a stunned silence.

Jen, rendered speechless, hand still firm to her mouth, heart racing, peered back towards Russell, who had caught up to Timmy, now. He kept himself a few feet back, seething, forcing himself to stay down, to not attack.

And then Timmy and Allison smiled at one another. A soft, gentle smile. Allison stood down from her seat at the bar, walked softly towards Timmy, heaved out a breath, shook her head in shock.

"Oh my goodness, what are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same question...when Jennifer said she had a friend named Allison, it never occurred to me--"

"I wasn't aware you were friends with Jen."

"Yes, we've known each other for years." Timmy huffed out softly. "My goodness, I haven't seen you in the longest time."

Adam came running up to Jen...about time. Jen jumped from her seat, leading him away, teeth ground in frustration. "Where the heck have you been?!"

"I'm sorry, I kind of told Russell and I came out here to warn you but then I stopped to gather my thoughts, and--"

"Oh my god, never stop to gather your thoughts, Adam, it's impossible! There's never enough time to gather your thoughts!"

Timmy was staring, lost. And then it occurred to him to turn around, to look back towards Russell, who grew more agitated by the moment. Well, Russell was being immature about this, he could just continue throwing his little fit; Timmy turned back towards Allison.

"How long have you been back in town? I assumed you were still in Chicago."

"Around six months. I apologize for not calling, I assumed you weren't interested..."

Russell interjected, now. "You're right, he wasn't."

Timmy flipped around, voice harsh. "I can speak for myself, thank you very much."

Russell was none too pleased with this declaration. He walked to Timmy now and stood barely an inch away, lurking uncomfortably over him.

Jen and Adam approached the group again, and Jen spoke meekly. "Listen guys, I'm so sorry...I never would have set this up if I'd known, I swear--"

"It's okay," said Allison. She flipped her hair behind an ear, coy, sweet. "I was thinking lately that I wouldn't mind seeing Timmy again."

Timmy perked. "W-what was that?"

Russell flicked Timmy's ear, eliciting an "ow" and a dirty look.

Timmy spoke through gritted teeth in Russell's direction. "Let me handle this!"

"No."

"Russell, I assure you, everything is--"

Russell applied an aggravated smack to the back of Timmy's head and whispered in his ear. "Don't be a moron, she wants you, I'm not sticking around while the little pipsqueak flirts you up all night!"

"Timmy?" The men focused back on Allison, who, watching them with a great deal of intrigue, squeaked out gently, "Uhm, why is your boss beating you up? Hi, Russell."

Russell sneered and was about to lay out a verbal assault when Timmy placed a hand across his mouth, eyeing him scoldingly before returning to Allison.

"Oh my, Allison, there's so much to explain, how do I explain all of this?" He looked back to Russell, their eyes meeting sharply, and slowly removed his hand from his mouth. "I think it's best if we do this someplace a bit more secluded or I may not get a word in edgewise...perhaps we could have a moment alone."

Russell laughed a bit too loudly. "No. No-o-o, buddy, that's not happening."

"I promise, it's fine." Timmy reached for Russell's hand. "Please, we'll only be a moment." He squeezed Russell's hand gently, and was satisfied to feel Russell squeeze back, a sign of reluctant acceptance.

Russell watched Timmy walk away, out of the restaurant. With Allison. He stood, defeated, unable to breathe, until Jen approached him finally.

Russell spoke softly, mockingly. "'Hey, Russell and Timmy, let's go out to dinner, you guys need to get out, you're so stressed.' Thanks. Thanks, I'm feeling crazy chill."

"I'm sorry, Russell...I really didn't know..."

Adam joined them. "Man, Jen said the name Allison so many times, we all heard it, it just didn't click. We're all idiots."

Russell shook his head as he made his way for the front door. "No. Timmy's the idiot."

Jen and Adam stood nervously; they watched as Russell stopped just outside the entrance. Watching; spying. This wouldn't end well. There was no way this could end well.

Jen hung her head. "I'm the worst friend in the world."

Adam patted her lightly on the shoulder. "Nah, honey. I mean, like...top ten, maybe. But worst? Nah."

----------

Timmy and Allison walked outside, and a strange sensation flooded over Timmy. He felt all at once both relief to be out of the restaurant and a sudden influx of nerves -- Russell's presence had been creating an unwanted tension, but his absence created tension of a new sort. Maybe this had been a poor decision, after all.

"That was a little strange in there, Timmy, were you holding Russell Dunbar's hand?"

"Allison...Allison, I really must explain something to you, and this is going to sound quite bizarre at first, but--" Timmy choked on the words, somehow -- he was so tired of explaining this to people, and his brain was struggling to work properly in her presence. Before he went further, he motioned her towards a bench a few feet away, and they walked together, sitting down. She sat a bit closer to him than he had anticipated, their legs brushing together. For a moment he forgot what he was about to say; an old familiar sensation began to rise up his leg and through his body. Memories of moments stolen in Allison's office...every time they would--

"Timmy?"

"What?"

"What were you saying?"

"Uhm...right. Yes. You see, I was...Russell and I........how long have you been back around, did you say?"

"Six months. I guess Chicago wasn't really my cup of tea. I liked it here a lot better. The atmosphere, the shopping, the people. Especially...certain people."

For a second Timmy considered Russell's words; she was, wasn't she? Flirting him up? Was this-- did she want him? No. No, they were simply conversing, they'd barely begun talking. Just innocent conversation.

"Why didn't you call?" Timmy sputtered at his own question. Why had he asked that? Why? "It's a bit...it's bad timing, really, it's irrelevant, I shouldn't even be asking this question, I'm sorry. I mean, six months ago it wouldn't have been-- it doesn't matter, but uhm...no, never mind, I should really explain."

"I wanted to call. But then, I was trying to move on, you know, it's been so long, I guess I just figured you'd moved on too."

"Well, I have. I mean, at the time I hadn't. But now, I suppose..."

"It's hard to meet people. I mean, it's hard to meet the right kind of people."

"Ah, yes, indeed."

"And then it seems that as soon as you do find the right kind of person, something always gets in the way."

"Well, you know, Allison, sometimes the wrong kind of person ends up being the right kind of person. I know that sounds counterintuitive, but trust me on this, love doesn't always work the way one expects."

Having rendered her in temporary contemplation, Timmy searched his brain for a topic of diversion. She seemed quite heavily focused on relationships; wait, hadn't he needed to tell her something rather important on this topic? Brain scrambling. "So, have you seen any good shows lately?"

"Timmy? Do you feel it?"

Timmy choked back. "Feel what, what do I feel?"

"The energy? I feel it. I always did feel it. Between you and me. I mean, mostly what we had was sexual...but Timmy, it was the best sex I've ever had in my life."

"Oh, lord."

"I've thought about you a lot, Timmy."

"Allison...I shan't lie to you, yes, of course there's something here, there always has been, but please...please stop this at once, I really must tell you about me and--"

Before he could get out another word, she had lunged forward, kissing him. For a moment, he didn't return the gesture; he instructed himself not to, he ordered himself to resist what was happening -- and then he leaned into it. Deeply, instinctively. When the kiss broke, he looked to her, stunned. "Oh. Oh...my...god."

"Yeah," she said, smiling.

"No. No, you...don't...understand..." He froze. And then the heavy breathing started. He stood, pacing wildly. "I didn't just do that. No. No, that did not just happen..."

"Timmy, what's the matter?"

He flailed his hands about, until finally he shot his left hand in front of Allison's face, displaying his ring finger.

"What?! What, are you...do you have a fiance, a wife?!"

"I'm married! I have a--" He was nearly hyperventilating, and let out the next word harshly, breathlessly: "--husband."

"You're married?! To-to a man? How can you be married to a man, who are you married to?!"

Unable to speak, he gestured towards the restaurant.

Allison shook her head in confusion. "I don't...understand..."

"Russell."

"...What?"

"I'm...I'm married to Russell."

"Your boss, Russell?"

Timmy nodded emphatically.

Allison laughed. "Is this a joke, am I on hidden camera or something?"

"No. No Allison, this is not a joke, this is my life, this is the insanity that is my life, my husband is in that restaurant right now waiting for me to come back inside and I just...oh, lord."

Allison watched Timmy pace in front of her, taking some time to process what was happening. He was serious -- this was weird.

"Well, how the heck did you end up married to Russell Dunbar?"

"It's such a long story...I needed a green card."

"Well, that's not a real marriage--"

"Yes, yes, I know, I know, that's why we got married, Allison, it's not why we're together."

"Oh. I see. This is all very confusing."

He stopped pacing now. "Yes, tell me about it!" He had practically yelled in her face, causing her to recoil slightly.

"So...you and Russell...are a-- a couple?"

"Yes."

"And you just kissed me."

"Technically you kissed me, but this is a problem, yes."

"I didn't know."

"I was trying to tell you!"

"I'm sorry, Timmy." She paused, her face confused. "So...so you and him...you're together? Really?"

"Allison!"

"I'm sorry, this doesn't make any sense, the last thing I remember is you hating him, he was making your life miserable! He was just awful, he was a perverted little weasel, he treated you like garbage, how could you end up married to him?"

"Well, yes, that's all true, but even then he was sort of my best friend, you see, it's quite a bit more complicated than I even let on back then I'm afraid, and then I quit working for him, and then we got married and I moved in with him and now we're together and I love him, Allison, and I still sort of hate him but that doesn't excuse the fact that I just kissed you and god help me I'm considering doing it again and HE'S NARY SEVERAL YARDS AWAY AT THIS VERY MOMENT."

"What did you say?"

"He's nary several yards--"

"No, the other part."

"Which part?"

"You're considering kissing me again?"

Timmy had set back to pacing wildly back and forth in front of Allison. "Did I say that? No, ignore that, my subconscious was talking, it does that sometimes, terrible loudmouth, my subconscious." He hit his head several times. "Shut up!"

"Timmy, calm down."

"I think I'm going insane. Yes, I've gone insane, this is it, I'm done for now."

Allison stood up, snatching Timmy firmly by the shoulders. "Timmy!!"

This calmed him down straight away; his body relaxed as he stared deeply into her eyes. And then, he leaned hesitantly forward -- lips near enough to hers to feel the heat from her mouth rising to meet his, tempting him, luring him forward, and he closed his eyes, thinking, urging himself to make a decision.

He pulled away. "This is wrong, I can't believe I would even consider..." He shook his head, meeting Allison's eyes. "Thank you, Allison."

"For what?"

"For helping me to realize something. I've been...we've been trying so hard to deny it. Stubbornly, foolishly, something undeniable. I think you've just proven something very important to me. And, uhm. Yes, I believe I need to speak with Russell."

Allison nodded. "Well, I don't really understand any of this, Timmy, but if this is what makes you happy...I'm happy for you." She kissed him softly on the cheek. "Perhaps I should go."

"Under the circumstances, I should think that wise."

Allison was focused now on Timmy's face as he looked back towards the restaurant; towards Russell. There was a longing in his eyes, a depth that was never there in all the time she'd known him.

"Wow...you've really got it bad for him, don't you?"

Timmy nodded softly. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I do."

----------

Russell saw Timmy fast approaching the restaurant, and did his best to look nonchalant by the time he walked inside. Timmy was taken aback to find Russell right inside the door, and the men feigned casualty as they stood together in the entryway, avoiding eye contact.

"So," said Russell finally. "What happened out there?"

Timmy was trying to formulate his story in such a way so as to not set Russell off; this was taking too long. There was no right way to do this.

"Timmy?"

"Just...just give me a moment."

"I was watching, Timmy."

Timmy flicked his eyes up towards Russell; he was met with a deathly serious gaze. His mouth started running at lightning speed.

"Nothing happened, Russell, please, let me explain--"

"If nothing happened, then what is there to explain?"

Timmy hesitated -- Russell nodded, turning away sharply.

"Please don't walk away, I realize what you saw and I know what it looked like but I'll explain everything if you'll just give me a chance, please."

Russell turned back slowly; he looked ready for the slaughter, but at least Timmy had his attention.

"Okay. Now...Allison may or may not have initiated a small, meaningless kiss." Timmy paused, gauging Russell's reaction; stone cold. He continued. "And I may or may not have accepted and participated in said kiss, but -- and this is the important part -- after this I panicked, Russell, I panicked and I told her about us and I sent her away and she's gone now and everything is fine."

"That's the important part? Everything is fine?!"

"Yes!"

"Are you sure the important part isn't where you kissed her?"

"It was one kiss, Russell, and I promise you I felt practically nothing--"

"Practically nothing?!"

"--and what I realize now is that we've been avoiding this topic, you know, the topic of exclusivity? Perhaps we were afraid, somehow. I mean, we didn't enter into this relationship as one normally would, it's taken us awhile to admit to certain things, it's been a process. And I really don't know why we've been avoiding this topic, because it's...it's fairly evident that, uhm...that..." Timmy began to fumble over his words; Russell was fuming. "That, uhm...that we actually...have very strong...feelings..." Russell's eyes were piercing. "Feelings on this...this topic. So isn't that lovely, Russell, that now we know for certain that we absolutely should...be...exclusive? As...as a couple, as husbands? I mean, there's really no question now as to our relationship being legitima--"

"You kissed her!"

Timmy looked away. "I'm so sorry, Russell, please forgive me. It meant nothing."

Russell leaned in close to Timmy, breath heavy, angry. "I have just enough self respect not to kill you in front of all these people. Get a cab."

-----------

Russell slammed the apartment door before Timmy could follow him inside.

Timmy stood outside the door. The ride home had been tense, silent, anticipatory of the horrific evening to come. Now here they were. He closed his eyes, gathered himself, and entered the apartment, talking rapidly. "Now, listen, Russell, please, we have to talk about this--"

"There's nothing to talk about."

In desperation Timmy made one last ditch effort: "Shall we count to five...?"

Silently, Russell put his hand in front of Timmy's face. He brought down one finger at a time as he counted: "One, two, three, four--" And, leaving only the center finger square in the middle of Timmy's face "--five."

"Please, Russell--"

"Nothing to talk about. You thought sucking saliva with your former slut while I was a few yards away sounded like a super fun idea, so you ran with it."

"That's not how it happened! I told you, she initiated the kiss!"

"You wanted to kiss her!"

Timmy grew a little too quiet and Russell nodded in victory.

"Yes," said Timmy. "Alright, I...I admit there was a touch of tension but for god's sake Russell, all Allison and I ever used to do was have sex, our relationship barely went beyond the physical, what is my body supposed to do around that woman, shrivel up? I'm still human. It was stupid. I told her just as much and I sent her away, what more was I to do?"

"What if I hadn't been there? What would you have done if I hadn't been there?"

"If you hadn't been there? If what, then? If I had run into her where, Russell, at some seedy little out of the way place?"

"Yeah, whatever, would you have fucked her, Timmy?"

"Of course not!"

"Likely story."

"How do I win, Russell? Alright, fine, yes! Yes, I would have slept with Allison, is that what you want to hear, does that make you happy?! And I would have left her riddled with a dozen random sexually transmitted diseases acquired from weeks of nonstop intercourse with you! So lovely to see you again Allison, here, why not have some gonorrhea!"

"Okay, knock it off with that..."

"And some herpes!"

"Shut up!"

"And some chlamydia!"

"Hey, I got rid of the chlamydia, I never gave you chlamydia!"

"Oh, so just the gonorrhea and the herpes then? And herpes lasts forever, well done, two for three!"

"The hell is wrong with you, why am I the bad guy here?!"

Timmy stopped his tirade...he didn't have an answer. He was at fault, he knew he was, but he couldn't let it go. There were other factors at play, it wasn't that simple.

Russell's voice grew soft, fragile. "Maybe you shoulda just stuck with Allison. I get the score."

Timmy was very close to saying the correct thing -- No, Russell, I want to be with you. Don't be stupid, Russell. But, no. They weren't done hurting one another quite yet.

"Well, maybe I would have had a chance with Allison if not for you."

"What the hell are you talking about? She moved, she broke it off with you..."

"I never even got to develop a real relationship with Allison, and do you know why? Because you interfered, from day one you had your hand in it, you sent her that tawdry email posing as me. It got us both going and from that day forward it was little more than sex!"

"You're complaining that I got you laid, are you serious?!"

"Yes! Yes, I am, because unlike you I realize there's more to a relationship than sex, you need to develop real meaningful connections to build a lasting relationship...something of which you're incapable of doing."

The men stared one another down. Timmy's implication was clear, and he knew it was perhaps the cruelest blow of all -- to imply that what they had wasn't meaningful, to imply it wasn't lasting, was a dagger straight to Russell's heart.

Russell was done. No holds barred. "You would have fucked her just like you fucked that slut the first day."

"What on earth are you on about?"

"When we first got together. You screwed me over man, you left me and you went and you picked up that chick--"

Timmy sighed heavily, turning away. "Not this again."

"Yeah, this again!"

"We didn't even know what we were doing at that juncture, Russell, you can't hold that against me. I was confused. Don't lie and tell me you haven't been with any women since then."

"I haven't!"

Timmy flipped back around. He had an ace, he had the upper hand, and he knew this. He was hesitating. "I can't possibly believe that. I know you've been with other people, Russell. When you gave me this ring, you told me you'd gone on dates, you told me you'd tried and failed."

"Yeah, I failed! For like a minute, I tried. I was scared, I didn't know what I was doing. I couldn't do it, Timmy, I wanted to be with you, I didn't want to be with anybody else!"

"And it took you getting to the point of mounting them to realize this, did it?"

"Why the hell am I the one on trial here, huh? I'm not the one kissing my ex-girlfriend!"

"I'm not the one carrying condoms in my pockets!"

Russell froze. Something in his face told Timmy everything he needed to know, and he nodded as he walked away.

"Timmy, wait, I can explain that--"

"Needn't bother."

"Tim-- Tim, please..." The anger had vanished from Russell's voice, replaced with a desperate pleading. Just keep him here, don't let him leave; get angry at him again once you've gotten him to stay. Fix this, fix it fix it fix it. "You've gotta believe me, please, I'm sorry..."

"If you've done nothing wrong, then why are you sorry?" Timmy flipped back around. "Being sorry is an admittance of guilt. I'm not stupid. I should have known better than to expect you to change." He scoffed softly. "So then I suppose I am rather stupid after all, aren't I? I don't know why I've allowed myself to fall in love with you, knowing precisely how this would end."

"Wait, what-- what, end? Dude, you're not even letting me talk! You just kissed your ex-girlfriend and you're gonna break up with me, is this seriously how tonight is going down? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Timmy took a deep breath, attempting to center himself, to give Russell a chance. "Fine. Fine, if there's an explanation, then explain."

Russell put a hand to his mouth. He needed to be careful; he was never careful with his words, and he knew that he could mess this up without much effort. "Okay...I don't...I don't trust myself."

"So then, why should I trust you?"

Russell chose to ignore Timmy, to try and carry on calmly. "I keep the condoms on me in case I screw up. Because I don't wanna hurt you."

"You realize that doesn't make any sense?"

"Because if I had sex with somebody else, if something were to happen, I'd need to keep it covered because I'm coming home to you, it doesn't just affect me anymore, it affects you too. And then I'd have to get tested and...yeah, I know, it sounds sick. I'm a perv, okay? All I think about is sex, Timmy, you know this about me, I'm sorry, I'm trying here. And it's like, it's a comfort thing, okay? I've never not had the damn condoms in my pocket, since I was a teenager I've carried 'em around with me, I'm not sleeping around, please, you've gotta believe me...please."

"You've thought about it. You've thought about what would happen if you did."

"Well, yeah, sure -- but I didn't. I've never been in something this heavy before, Timmy, my brain's trying to catch up! And I'm not the one who did anything, you are, you're the one who kissed Allison tonight, and I had to watch you do it, I had to watch you kiss her a million times in front of me when you were dating and I had to watch you kiss her tonight."

"We've watched one another date any number of women! We weren't even on the precipice of being together then, you didn't care when I was dating Allison, you weren't jealous of Allison!"

"...Maybe I was. Maybe I just didn't know it, yet."

A long silence. Finally Timmy grimaced angrily. "Do you know how many times I've watched you have sex? Not kissing, Russell, sex! From the moment you hired me you would show me videos of you pummeling random women...for what, for shock value, to make me jump. You had me catalogue every vile sexual act you've ever engaged in with a woman, sometimes multiple women at a time, my brain has been utterly violated! You had me convert twenty year old VHS tapes of you having sex, I mean...who does these things, do you think that doesn't affect me now, knowing such disgusting details about the person I intend to spend my life with, do you think that doesn't make me have just the slightest lack of faith in you? The leopard doesn't change his spots that easily."

More silence. A harsh realization.

"So...so maybe we can't trust each other at all," concluded Russell. "Is that it? Is that the bottom line, here?"

Timmy's voice grew soft again, sincere. "We've-- we've been avoiding this, Russell. The topic of fidelity, of trust. I'm so sorry for what I've done, I'm sorry I've hurt you, please forgive me, but you must understand where I'm coming from, we need to talk about this if we're to move forward together..."

There was a desperate urge to end this; somehow, they had leveled the playing field, driving them towards reconciliation. And then Russell remembered what had led them here. He wasn't going to let Timmy win.

"No. Go find your skank."

Timmy watched Russell walk away towards the bedroom. He wanted to go after him; to grab him, to smack some sense into him. They couldn't go on like this. Instead, he felt anger rising through his core. Rather than waste time on more begging, he hauled back and screamed, eyes on the brink of tears.

"Go find some random slut to shag and leave in a broken pile of humiliation five minutes later!"

"Yeah," said Russell a bit too calmly, "maybe I will." He turned back to Timmy, staring him down intently. "Y'know, even if I have to pay somebody to pretend to care..." He huffed. "Yeah, well, at least somebody'll care about me...and I'll know it's all fake ahead of time. I won't have to find out after the fact. After I'm already in love." He shook his head with a soft laugh. "But then what the hell is love anyway, huh, Tim? You wouldn't know much about that, would ya?" And with that he walked into the bedroom, slamming the door.

For awhile Timmy was rendered speechless, motionless; last night, Russell had showered him with more love than perhaps any other human had bestowed upon him in his life. This afternoon, Timmy had made a fool of himself over Russell's eyes, for god's sake...those eyes that for the last few months had looked upon him so selflessly, for once. No more than several hours ago they were happy, and in a single stupid moment it had all been shattered...

Timmy made his way to the bedroom door. He leaned his head against it, considering his next move. He wanted to walk inside. He wanted to talk to him, to make him listen -- it couldn't end this way. After years of threatening to leave Russell, after years of it being abundantly clear who was at fault, the tables had turned. He no longer wanted to leave. He wanted to stay.

With a heavy sigh, he turned, walking slowly, regretfully to the front door, and out of the apartment.

Chapter 11: The Sleepover

It was 2am when Jen came trudging from the bedroom, half asleep. The knocking on the front door was persistent, irritating, and growing louder by the second, waking her quickly from her stupor.

"Oh my god, hold on! Geez, what do you want, it's two in the freakin'--?" She flung the door open. It was Timmy. Immediately her anger subsided as she looked him over, reading the situation like an open book. He looked like crap.

"Whoa, oh my gosh, how much have you had to drink--?"

"G'd ev'ning, Jenver-- Jev-- may I-- please, can't... spinning."

She grabbed him under the arms, carrying him inside, and sat him on the sofa where he promptly collapsed, groaning heavily.

"Timmy, what happened?"

"Fight. We...had a fight."

"Yeah, you guys just sort of left, we knew something was wrong, but..." She sat down in a chair, watching Timmy intently. "I'm so sorry, oh my god, this is all my fault--"

"Kissed her." Timmy laughed awkwardly. "I did, I kissed her, Jenver. Ru...Russ...he hates me!"

"Oh...oh, crap."

"Yes...crap...great big giant dookie..."

"You need to get some rest, you're gonna have a killer hangover. Just lay down, sleep, okay? You can stay here tonight."

"Jen..."

"Yeah, Timmy?"

"What if I told mother...about us..." He swallowed hard, closing his eyes, drifting. "And now-- Russ...Russell and I...are..." He let off a heavy breath as Jen placed a hand softly to his head. "It's all over."

"Timmy, it's not over. Sleep it off, let Russell sleep it off...you're too wasted to figure any of this out right now. You can go talk to Russell tomorrow, this'll all blow over, okay?"

"What if...it doesn't...what shall...what..."

"Just wait here, I'm gonna grab you a blanket or something." Jen disappeared into the bedroom; by the time she returned Timmy was fast asleep.

Jen felt a rush of guilt. She knew this situation wasn't really her fault -- even though she had unintentionally connected Timmy with Allison, she wasn't in control of his actions. Whatever had taken place between them, and whatever had happened between him and Russell wasn't her doing. So why did she feel so responsible?

Timmy was a nice guy, almost to a fault, and she hated watching him self destruct. To be honest, Jen didn't have a lot of serious friendships. Perhaps it was in her nature to gravitate towards surface connections, perhaps she could be just a little shallow at times. She really liked Timmy, they were growing close, but the situation between him and Russell was getting heavy, intense -- and she wasn't sure she should be in the middle of it.

Timmy stirred. Jen looked to the blanket in her arms and unfolded it gently over him, and he grabbed at it instinctively as he fell back to sleep.

Jen made her way back to the bedroom and found Adam half awake, eyes heavy, sitting up gently in bed. His voice lilted out groggily.

"Hey, what's going on...?"

"Timmy's in the living room. He's drunk, he's sleeping it off...he says he kissed Allison."

"Ohhh, man, that sucks hardcore." Adam tossed his head back on the pillow, letting his eyes close. "So I guess tomorrow you'll keep Timmy, I'll take Russell."

"Is this like our full time job, now? Are we playing parent, because I mean, I want a baby, not two full grown men who make out, fight, and pass out drunk in our living room."

Adam was already half asleep. "What'd you say, babe, you want what? You wanna make out and get drunk? Okay, but I'm really tired, can I sleep a little first..."

Jen rolled her eyes as she took her place in bed. "Not sure how I'll make it, but have it your way." She kissed Adam on the cheek and he smiled warmly as Jen curled back next to him.

----------

Russell was going to ignore the persistent knocking on the front door. It was 3pm and he had blown off work in favor of spending most of the day sleeping. Timmy had never come home...for some reason, he hadn't expected him to actually leave.

That was probably stupid of him. Every bit of their exchange the previous evening could only have led to him leaving; his exit speech to Timmy was carefully designed to sting, but when Russell emerged from the bedroom only minutes later, regretful and hurt to find Timmy gone, everything had crumbled.

It was over. If it wasn't over, then what was happening? They'd fought a million times, but not like this. Not so bitterly; or perhaps the words hadn't used to hurt as much. It mattered now, the things they said to one another. It was beginning to matter.

And Timmy had kissed her. And yes, Russell carried the condoms -- and yes, he'd attempted to sleep with women the second or third week, still panic stricken. But it wasn't the second or third week, it was now, right now, it was different now, and Timmy had kissed her.

The knocking was persistent. Russell didn't care who it was, he wasn't going to answer the door. He couldn't stand to see anyone; not anyone.

A text came through on his phone. He didn't want to look. The world didn't exist right now; Timmy was gone. But he found himself reaching for the phone, his eyes flicking down. And the text found him running for the door, unlatching all the locks, and standing back now as if he didn't care at all.

Timmy opened the door slowly. He avoided looking at Russell, walked gently past him. No words spoken.

Russell didn't want to speak, but his brain had other plans. "Timmy?"

Timmy resisted looking at Russell. His head was still pounding, he was still making an effort to think straight. He'd had a terrible night and a terrible morning, overcome from an evening of depressed binge drinking. Jen and Adam had been kind enough to ignore him waking up again in the middle of the night to retch, to cry. He'd barely spoken to them today; he hadn't wanted to speak to anyone. He'd finally afforded himself an excuse to come home -- he needed his things if he was to stay elsewhere. Of course, there were other reasons for returning, but he wouldn't admit to them.

He wouldn't admit to wanting to see him, and so he did his best now to ignore his husband. He walked straight towards the bedroom, and Russell found himself following suit. He watched as Timmy started through a dresser, snatching out neatly folded clothes and placing them on the bed.

"What-- what are you doing, Tim?"

Timmy knew he had to speak. He paused, gathering himself. Cautiously, he looked to Russell. He saw how torn he was -- they saw how torn the other looked. They both looked terrible.

"I'll just be staying with Adam and Jennifer for a few days. While we decide."

"Decide. So we're, uh...we're deciding, now?"

"Did you hear what you said to me last night?"

Russell walked to Timmy's side of the bed and sat near him, watching as he continued gathering clothes. "Did you see what you did to me last night?"

Timmy closed the dresser drawer a bit too hard. He took a deep breath, concentrating on his next words, rehearsing them in his head once more as he had been doing for the last few hours. "Yes. Yes, I know what I did, and I admit to my transgression. What happened last night was, for lack of a better word, cheating. I can't apologize enough, I've tried to figure out a way, and I can't. Who initiated the kiss is irrelevant, I placed myself within the situation, I allowed it to happen." He rubbed his temple, easing down a bit of pain; he couldn't ease away his confusion. "Russell, these last few days have been...have been very intense. A great deal has transpired in a very brief period of time, between your daughter showing up, and my coming out to my mother, and-- I'm sorry, I'm so dreadfully sorry."

Timmy walked to the closet, retrieving a suitcase. When he walked back, setting about packing, he tried to continue his initial thought. "I won't blame you if you want me gone. Perhaps it's best this all happened now, rather than years into this. Perhaps it's best--"

Timmy jolted. Russell's hand was wrapped firm around his wrist, and Timmy slowly allowed his eyes to travel to Russell's face.

"You're not going anywhere."

Timmy looked away. "Just...just for a few days. I think we need a few days, Russell."

"You're coming back, Tim?"

"You want me back?"

"You wanna come back? To this?"

"Haven't I always?"

Russell stood abruptly and held Timmy's face in his hands, forcing him to look at him. "Yeah. Yeah, you have."

They both knew precisely what they wanted to do in this moment; they both knew that the other felt the same way. They bore into one another's eyes as if in some sort of telepathic communication -- I can't be the one to do it. Please, make the first move. Please, make this right.

They were both ridiculously stubborn. They always had been, and getting married, proclaiming their love for one another hadn't changed that. Indeed, this is how emotional exchanges had always worked between them -- tip toeing, scratching the surface. There was something to say...neither wanted to be the first to say it. The hurtful words were always so easy to express, somehow; the words of need, the words of love were harder.

Russell still had the hardest time with this, with finding the right words. He let go of Timmy's face now, turning slowly, walking away. Timmy watched him go, watched as he stopped just before the bedroom door.

"Russell...?"

"If you're going, you should go. But...but come back. I'd, uh...I want you to--"

"I shall."

Russell couldn't turn around, he couldn't look at Timmy. He tried to will himself to move, to leave the room, but he couldn't do that either. And so he sent out a silent signal to Timmy. Please. I need you. Please...

A moment later he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned around to find Timmy's arms wrapping gently around him...and he embraced him fully, trying not to cry. He wouldn't cry. They'd cried too much as of late, it wasn't manly, he had to keep it together. But then he heard Timmy's gentle, shaking breath -- "Don't do it, Tim. Don't start with the waterworks."

Timmy was on the brink of tears, but he swallowed back. "I'm so sorry."

"You're an asshole, Timmy."

Timmy pressed his head a little further into Russell's shoulder. "You're a wanker."

Russell held Timmy a little tighter, stroking his hair gently. "If you ever pull any shit like that again, I swear to god, Tim--"

"If I ever find another condom in your pocket, I'll cut off your--"

Russell pushed Timmy to arm's length. "Whoa whoa whoa, a little dramatic, huh?!"

"Russell?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm considering kissing you...otherwise I'm afraid we'll begin fighting again, and I don't believe this to be in our best interest. So if you're agreeable to this--"

Russell pulled Timmy to him, locking their lips, shutting up Timmy's overactive mouth. The men felt a tension leave one another's bodies at the embrace, as if this simple kiss, no different from the many kisses they had exchanged these last weeks, purged from all the years of kisses stored up waiting for one another's lips, had somehow righted all the wrongs between them. Of course it hadn't. And when they came up for air, they knew this to be true -- the atmosphere was heavy, confused. What now?

Timmy pulled away gently. He placed a hand softly to Russell's cheek before turning, heading back towards his luggage on the bed. "I should go."

"What, you're still going...?"

"We need time...please, Russell."

There was a thick silence in the air as Timmy finished packing. Finally, suitcase in hand, he grabbed a small object from the nightstand, placed it carefully in his pocket, and walked his way towards the door. He stopped short, turning to Russell.

Russell was focused intently on the ground, face locked in contemplation. "Y'know, I'm still pretty pissed."

"So am I. That's why I have to go...before we continue hurting one another." Timmy paused; he waited. "Are those really our parting words?"

Russell looked up. He shook his head. "No. No, uh...I love you. Seriously. You suck, but I love you."

Timmy smiled weakly. "Yes. You also suck. And I love you, Russell."

----------

Audrey walked from the kitchen, ending the call on her phone. "Hey, that was Adam, he wants you to go with him over to Russell's place."

Jeff's eyes didn't veer from the television as Audrey took the seat next to him. He'd heard her; he was processing the statement. She understood the subtle hints on his face that were indicative of this, although to anybody else he may have looked comatose.

Finally he replied simply, "Game's on."

"Isn't this a game you TiVo'd months ago?"

"Yeah. Game's on TiVo."

"Jeff, Adam seems to think this is important, Russell really needs you guys tonight."

This was enough to break Jeff's concrete face. "What does he...'need' us for? Are we planning an orgy at the Dunbar-Patel residence?"

"Jeff!"

"I mean, I can see how Adam might be into that, but..."

Audrey flung her arms with an irritated groan. "Why does your mind always go to sex at the first mention of Russell?"

Jeff recoiled. "Serious? Serious question?"

"Well...it's different now, Jeff, you know it is. Try and picture Timmy in an orgy, I mean, seriously."

"Could I not, please?"

"Can I get back to my point?"

Jeff returned his attention to the game. "But...TV, Aud. Things I care about are happening right here, why should I take the time to go to Russell's place when TV is three feet away from me?"

"TV will still be here when you get back." Audrey grabbed the remote, turning off the television. Jeff grumbled loudly but turned his attention to Audrey as she continued talking, ignoring Jeff's complaints. "Russell and Timmy had a fight."

"So what the hell ever, all those two ever do is fight!"

"No, Jeff, this was a big fight, like an I'm-maybe-breaking-up-with-you fight, remember those? We had our fair share of those early on."

"Oh, geez. Yeah. It was usually my fault. I never did anything, but it was always my fault."

"The time we missed my cousin Jane's wedding because you called me fat. She never forgave me, either. She still doesn't talk to me."

"You asked me if you looked fat! We could have still gone to the wedding, I mean...and seriously, you considered that break-up worthy?"

"Or the time I accidentally left the grocery bags out in the rain so you ate all of those little chocolates I special ordered from Italy in retaliation?"

"That one was clearly on you, there was no food left in the house, and I'm starting to question how you rank the severity of our fights..."

"Or how about when you told my friend Nancy she had nice legs and for the next three months she thought you were hitting on her and--"

"Okay, that one was sort of my fault..." Quickly steering away from Nice-Leg Nancy, "But whatever, this wasn't about our crap, this was about Russell and Timmy's crap."

"Yeah...well." Audrey reluctantly dropped the topic of Jeff's past sins. "Seriously, they seem to be doing a lot better lately, Jeff. They've been getting pretty romantic."

"Oh, come on."

"No, I mean it. I had coffee with Timmy yesterday and I swear to you, he was gushing over Russell." She scrunched up her face thoughtfully. "It was...weird, but he seems really, genuinely in love. Wouldn't hurt you to be a little more romantic. Especially when your wife is raising your beautiful child and growing your next beautiful child and completely deserves a little gratitude."

"So...basically this whole Russell/Timmy thing is an excuse to point out my flaws? Just like all things. And so the cycle continues. I must remember to thank Russell when I see him."

"And you'll see him in just a little while, when you go over there with Adam."

Jeff sighed heavily as he stood, admitting defeat. "How do you always win, huh? How do you do that?"

Audrey stood, patting Jeff on the shoulder with a grin. "A magician never reveals her secrets."

"So what am I walking into? Why the big fight anyway, what happened this time, did he stick something weird in Timmy again?" Jeff held his head. "Holy hell, that sounded...not how I meant it to sound."

"I didn't get the whole story, something about Timmy's ex showing up to dinner and something happened and the guys left together angry and now Russell is really angry."

Jeff's voice mellowed. He seemed to genuinely care, now. "What, you think Timmy pulled something with his ex?"

"That's what it sounds like."

"Ah, god. And why are we all getting involved in this, again?"

"Because we're friends, Jeff. Friends are there for each other. You've been really weird around Russell, and that needs to stop. Go over there, have a few drinks, distract him, be a friend. You're not gonna catch the gay."

"The hell, Audrey, have a little more faith in me than that, huh? What is this, junior high?"

Audrey nodded, satisfied, and turned to walk away.

"Hey, Aud...d'you think those two are do-it-on-the-sofa kinds of guys?"

She turned back around hesitantly. "What...? Why?"

"Well, I mean, if they've been bumping uglies on the sofa, just to be on the safe side, I should probably stick to chairs, or--"

"Oh, my god, Jeff!"

"You're right, I should probably just stand while I'm over there..."

----------

"I'm heading over to Russell's," said Adam.

Jen and Timmy were sitting quietly in the living room on either side of the sofa. Timmy still hadn't said much more than a few casual words here and there, but Adam's sudden declaration had piqued his interests.

"Are you?"

"Yeah, uh, me and Jeff thought he could use some company. You okay, Tim, is that okay?"

Timmy shrugged softly, looking away. "Frankly he could use some time with the two of you. You seem to have been avoiding us like the plague."

Adam stopped short. He couldn't leave on that note. "Hey, uh...Timmy, I don't want you to think that we're...that we're avoiding you, man, I mean--"

"I understand. I'm the odd duck out. Please don't let Russell suffer for it -- go, you're right, he could use your company at the moment." Timmy looked to Jen with a warm smile. "I'm sure we can find something to occupy our time, yes?"

Jen smiled back. "Yeah, of course we can. Get outta here, Adam, you're cramping our style."

Adam feigned insult. "I see how it is!" Then, heading out the door, "See you guys later. Keep him outta the liquor, and don't worry, I'll take good care of your man, Timmy."

Once Adam was gone, Timmy raised a brow in Jen's direction. "Everything he says sounds gay. I mean, I'm the one sleeping with a man, for cripes' sake, but..."

"Hey, no argument from me. So, Timmy...can we talk, now, I mean, are you ready to talk?"

Timmy looked down with a shake of his head. "Not sure what more there is to talk about."

"You went over and saw Russell, how did that go? You guys okay?"

"Hard to say. I think it's going to take time."

Jen let out a heavy sigh. "This just had to happen right now when you're already dealing with so much. And it's all my fault--"

Timmy leaned closer to Jen. "Oh, for heaven's sake, no it's not. Are you really blaming yourself for this?" She looked down with a shrug. "Jennifer, this was bound to happen. I mean, not me kissing Allison, that was due to a terrible coincidence, you couldn't have known, and even if you had known, it's not as if you shoved me into her."

"Yeah, I guess..."

"But Russell and I...this was bound to come to a head sooner or later, we have such a complicated history, so much to work out. Please, don't blame yourself."

This seemed to ease Jen's concerns, and she met Timmy's eyes again with a comforting smile and a nod.

Timmy leaned back, rubbing his neck. "Perhaps when I entered into this I developed a severe case of brain fog, you know how one does that within a new relationship? The problems all sort of bear their ugly head as time goes along...funny though, you'd think I'd have known better with Russell."

"Yeah, maybe...but I feel you. I think it's lust, the sex is really good in the beginning and clouds everything. I've been through that more than I care to admit."

"It was sort of terrible in the beginning. We'd never been with another man, it was, uhm...weird."

"But you guys wanted each other, right, you were all over each other?"

"We still are...perhaps more now than at first, frankly, I mean, you know Russell, he's rather insatiable." He bit a lip thoughtfully. "And I'm afraid I've played right into his appetite in a rather strange way. The more my anger has resurfaced, the more dominant I've become..."

Timmy placed a hand over his mouth, glaring towards Jen. He parted fingers, speaking softly. "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this..."

Jen smiled with a shrug. "Yeah, well, Adam's always trying to get me angry so I'll get all aggressive in bed, he thinks it's hot."

Jen's relaxed attitude caused Timmy to relax as well. He grinned gently. "Well, then. Perhaps the two of them will do some manly roughhousing tonight, get one another all roused up and return to us to finish the job."

Jen's laugh was loud and unexpected and Timmy laughed in return.

"Oh, my god, seriously, though...your sex life clearly isn't a problem."

"On the contrary, perhaps sex has played too great a role in our relationship. That's...that's sort of what the fight was about. We feel as though we can't trust one another. I mean...well, certainly what I did prompted the fight, but...that man has devoted his life to nothing but the pursuit of tail." His face turned down again, his voice weakening. "I have trouble believing that he could now devote himself to nothing but me."

Jen could see the pain on Timmy's face. She wished she had the right words to help, but she didn't, and she racked her brain for a bit of divergence instead.

"Hey, Timmy? Me and Adam were planning to go look at this wedding venue tomorrow, and I was thinking, I know this is gonna sound kind of stupid, but how would you like to go with me instead?"

"What? Why? Isn't that really something you and Adam should be doing together, I mean..."

"He's really all wedding'd out, he doesn't really have to see the place. It's a few hours away, I thought we could road trip it, whattaya say? We can pump up the radio, load up on junk food..."

Timmy nodded with a smile and a slap of his knee. "You know what, yes. Yes, let's do it, why not? I could use the excursion, thank you, Jennifer."

"Great! You won't regret it, Timmy!"

----------

Russell opened the door to Jeff and Adam. "What the hell are you guys doing here?"

Jeff clicked his tongue with a nod and turned deftly to walk away -- Adam grabbed his arm, ensuring he wouldn't leave.

"We knew you were alone, so we just thought we'd stop by, thought you could use the company."

Russell narrowed his eyes thoughtfully -- he wouldn't show it, but he was thankful to see the men. He'd been going stir-crazy with thoughts of Timmy. What was Timmy doing? Should he text him, would he text back? Did he even want to talk to Timmy? Did he want him to come home, did he want to make love to him, did he want to kill him? No good rotten cheat. Beautiful brown eyed, caramel skinned son of a bitch...

"Hey, Russell, can we come in?"

He needed the distraction, or he would go insane. "Yeah, sure, I guess, whatever."

Once inside, the men stood in a quiet circle, looking around carelessly...what now? To be fair, Adam probably should have come prepared.

"Well, this was a real blast," said Russell finally. "Thanks for coming over guys, I guess you'll be leaving now? Sorry I didn't pack any goody bags for the trip home, you know your way out?"

Jeff extended a hand and met Russell in a handshake. "Always good visiting, we'll have to do this again sometime."

"C'mon, guys!" Adam put up his hands in frustration, eliciting groans from Jeff and Russell. "We can figure out something fun to do, I mean, uh...let's order a pizza or something and pop in a movie, huh, one of those movies the wives hate?"

Russell cleared his throat.

"The wives and the husbands with terrible taste in movies? I've tried to watch movies with Timmy, I know man, I'm sorry."

Russell shrugged. "Yeah, I know, he's into foreign films and brainy stuff. I keep telling him I don't wanna read movies and he's all 'why does everything we watch have to have a lesbian sex scene'?"

Jeff scoffed heavily. "You would not believe how many times Audrey and I have had this exact same conversation!"

"This is great!" Adam clapped his hands in excitement and shot a heavy grin. "So I'll order some pies and we'll get this party started!"

Russell pointed towards the giant flat-screen in the living room. "Yeah, I'll go through the movie stash, just uh, just sit wherever."

Adam and Jeff walked to the living room and Adam collapsed into a chair, yanking out his phone. Jeff examined the sofa hesitantly...and then the chairs...he was still examining the furniture when Russell looked back to him a moment later.

Russell examined Jeff examining furniture until finally, painfully, Jeff sat slowly down in a chair and smiled up at Russell.

"Yeah. Good chair, this is good, I can work with this."

----------

As the credits rolled on Russell's film of choice Jeff downed the last of the beer in his hand, his fifth, and stood up, turning to Russell. "Not sure what I was expecting, but uh...well, that was basically porn."

"You're welcome."

"Thank you."

Adam was staring mindlessly at the screen. "So many boobs..."

Russell passed in front of Adam, turning off the TV and grabbing random pizza scraps. "Gonna make it there, buddy?"

"Just...so many boobs..." He looked to Russell. "So many."

"Uh-huh, boobs, ladies have boobies, and we just saw a lot of 'em. Uncle Rusty's Emporium of Lady Bits and Doo-Dads, always open for business." Russell placed a hand under Adam's chin, shoving his mouth closed. "Jaw up, don't need drool on the carpet."

As Adam and Jeff both collected themselves, preparing to perhaps head home, their duty fulfilled for the evening -- pizza and a movie -- Russell felt a touch of anxiety rise throughout his body. For a moment he said nothing, watching them gather their things, and then as he felt his breathing grow unsteady, he told himself to count to five. Breathing paced, he closed his eyes and took a shot in the dark.

"Hey, fellas?"

"Yeah?" said Adam.

"This is gonna sounds really pathetic." Russell forced a soft laugh. "Could you guys maybe, uh..." He grimaced at his own stupidity, furled his hands in frustration. "I guess...stay with me tonight?"

Adam and Jeff looked to one another as if in consultation, and then back to Russell.

"Like a sleepover?" asked Jeff. "Are we gonna paint each other's nails and do each other's hair in pretty little braids?"

"Oh, ghost stories," said Adam. "Or truth or dare, that's always fun!"

Adam's nonsense had a way of easing down Russell's nerves a touch. Russell walked to him, plastering on an excited grin. "Ooh, yeah, that sounds super fun!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!" He dropped the grin, smacking Adam firmly on the back of the head.

"Ow!"

"Don't be stupid."

"Listen," said Jeff. "As fun as all this is, I'm not exactly in the mood for girls' night, so...maybe a rain check, huh?"

Russell felt panic set in. "No! No, uh...listen, I've got beer, I've got like a million channels, pay-per-view, sports, porn, whatever, I don't care, just..." Russell's voice went weak. He didn't want to let his emotions through, not for the guys, but he had to be honest with himself. "I don't wanna be alone right now."

He had expected sarcastic jabs at the very least, and at the most an outright dismissal of his emotional confession, but the silence in the room between the three men held a different sort of understanding now. It had been decided.

"Well, I'd better call Jen and let her know," said Adam.

"You got something harder than beer?" asked Jeff. "We're gonna need something a lot harder than beer. Your man walked out on you. You're uh, you're drinking to get drunk, right?"

Russell attempted to refrain from showing any emotion, but Jeff's veiled declaration of caring elicited a gentle smile. "Yeah, well...halfway there."

He snatched an unopened beer from the table, tossing it from one hand to the other. "In fact..." He flicked the tab, sending a spray of liquid across the front of his t-shirt. He stared forward, deadpan. "You've gotta be kidding me, are you kidding me? It's always freakin' something..." Russell plunked the open beer on the table, shaking his wet hand. Instinctively, practically forgetting his company, he pulled his wet shirt over his head, walking towards the bedroom.

Russell had barely taken two steps when Adam's voice brought him to a standstill: "Holy crap, what happened to you?"

"What, what are you talking about...?"

Jeff pointed up and down the length of Russell's torso. "You, uh...you get in a gang fight or something?"

Russell's eyes went wide in realization, placing a hand to the scratch marks on his chest. "No, it's...I, uh--"

"You're all bruised up everywhere too, like--" Adam remembered the conversation from the break room; the bite on Russell's neck. "Ohhhh." He stepped down.

It had already clicked for Jeff, as well. He turned away, rubbing his neck nervously. "Yeah, you uh, you better go clean up...there."

Russell was just fine with dropping the topic and sped away...when he was gone, Jeff turned back to Adam.

"Seriously, you think little boy brown did all that?"

----------

It had been a few hours; the men had passed time on more of Russell's almost-porn collection, raided the junk food in the kitchen, and mostly had taken to drinking...lots of drinking.

They were all more than a little buzzed by now; Jeff the least of them. He held his liquor fairly well, due in part to his build, in part to his penchant for drinking. Adam drank, but he was something of a lightweight and was getting kind of silly. Russell was the furthest gone -- he'd been slowly chain drinking since Timmy had left the night before.

"Truth or dare!" Russell declared finally, a mild slur sneaking past his lips.

"Ah, c'mon, what?" said Jeff. "Still not a thirteen year old girl. No, thanks."

"Nah, Adam had a good idea, I wanna play. C'mon, what, are you chicken?" Russell took to chicken-like bawking, Jeff glaring on blankly, unphased.

"I'm game," said Adam. "I'm no chicken." He leaned forward in his chair with a clap of his hands. "Come at me, bro! Hit me with your best dare!"

"Whoooa, big man, huh, takin' a dare right out of the gate, I see how it is, all right!"

Jeff leaned back, shaking his head as he swigged a bottle of beer. "The hell is this, what exactly am I seeing, here? Is this what you guys do when I'm not around?"

Adam and Russell were too focused to pay Jeff any mind.

"Okay, uh...I dare you to...uh..." Russell looked to be deep in thought.

"Well, if you can't think of anything, if you're gonna wuss out on givin' me a dare--"

"Nyu-uh-uh, shush!" Russell stood, dashing for the kitchen. Adam shifted his eyes around wildly as he waited for him to return. When Russell finally emerged, he was carrying a bowl and a spoon with him.

"What's that?" asked Adam fearfully. "What...what did you do to that? Did you...do something to that? Did you do something...in that?"

"Curry. Vinda, tinda, loo-loo or something, it's terrible, spicy, eat it, you'll like it, I promise."

Adam shook his head wildly. "No! No, no, no, no, no, you can't get me with that. You saw what happened when I tried to go level whatever out at dinner with Timmy's parents, dude I went home after that and I tried to down Red Hots, I can't even eat candy bro, I have a sensitive tongue, it's a medical condition!"

Russell laughed in victory, holding the curry high above his head. "You lose man, boom, I win!!"

Jeff stood with a heavy sigh, grabbing the bowl from Russell. "Seriously, ladies? Give me that."

Adam and Russell stared at Jeff, stunned, as he took a heaping spoonful of the curry directly into his mouth. No reaction. Swallowing. No reaction. He sat down, shrugged. "Not bad. Not good, but not bad." He sat the bowl down on the table, and then, on second thought, picked it back up and continued eating.

Russell's eyes shot wide. "What the hell, man, you're gonna eat that?!"

"It's food, isn't it?"

"What, do you have an iron stomach?!"

Jeff took another bite. "Apparently."

"Well, don't expect the wife to get anywhere near your mouth for like a million years, that stuff can sting like a mother--"

"Stings other places too," said Adam thoughtfully. "Jen ate this really spicy thing one time before she went down there and then it stung like crazy, never again man, never again." Yeah, being drunk makes for loose lips.

Russell looked to Adam slowly. "Like...like, what do you mean..." A realization. "Oh! Oh, my god, oh! Well, I wouldn't...that's hasn't, he doesn't..." He quickly diverted. "Hey, it's my turn, isn't it my turn, you gonna truth or dare me, we gonna do this, man?"

"Yeah, sure, whattaya want?"

"Truth."

"You wanna lay some truth on me, broseph? Okay, I've got one, I've got a good one."

"Okay, well, give it to me! Give it to me, Adam!"

Jeff stood up, walking away in search of more beer. "Good lord, do you guys listen to yourself? I'm not sure I should be here for this."

"Okay, Russell, truth. What's up with those scratches on your chest?"

Jeff stopped walking, turning slowly back around. Morbid curiosity.

Russell leaned back slowly in his chair. "...I don't wanna play anymore."

"Dude, truth me, it's the game, come on."

Russell moaned weakly. "Come on, you already know!"

Adam was a little drunk, a little more stupid than usual, and had neglected to take into account how awkward this line of questioning was for all of them.

Jeff knew. "Yeah, uh...maybe we should drop the whole obviously awkward as all get out BDSM between friends thing, huh, Adam?"

Adam's face went blank, contemplating, and then he nodded in realization. "Oh...oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm...I'm sorry, Russell, I didn't mean to--"

"Timmy did it."

Jeff and Adam stared. Dead, heavy silence among the room -- well, okay. There it was.

"Yeah, Timmy scratched me, okay? You guys happy now, that's what you wanted, right?" Russell was getting loud, belligerent. "During sex. Wild, crazy sex. With Timmy." Alcohol was clouding his brain. He was sick of this...of hiding the obvious. It needed to be said. He was going to say it. "I have sex with Timmy...who's a dude...who I'm married to, and have sex with, and I like it! I...like...gay...sex! Violent, crazy, gay Timmy sex!" He was practically yelling, now. "You guys have a problem with that?!"

Jeff and Adam shook their heads in stunned silence, and Jeff continued his journey to the kitchen, escaping the situation. Audrey just had to talk him into this, he just had to come to Russell's tonight -- holy hell...

Adam leaned forward, speaking gently, carefully. "Hey, uh, Russell...?"

Russell eyed Adam hesitantly.

"It's cool, man...it's not like it's some big secret, I mean, you guys are together, what are you gonna do all day, bake cakes?"

Russell reached for his beer, taking a rough swallow. "Why cakes?"

Adam lowered his voice, despite there being no real reason for this. They were clearly alone. "So...so between you and me, like, how'd you get him into the kinky stuff? You know Jen's a pretty open book but there's some stuff I just can't talk her into, I think she holds out just to mess with me sometimes, but I mean..."

Russell leaned forward, as if he were prepared to share a grand, confidential secret. "Okay, here's what you do..."

"Yeah?"

"Hire her as your assistant and treat her like crap for a few years."

Confused, Adam leaned back in his chair, trying to decipher what Russell had just revealed to him. "I don't...I don't get that, how does that have anything to do with this?"

Russell's voice was growing a bit giddy, raising in pitch. "Duuude, no, listen, listen...he's on this thing, it's like...it's like he's still pissed at me for everything, right? But he's into me now so what he does is he roughs me up, but in a good way, and it's soooo good..." He grinned idiotically. "He's hot. He's...he's so hot, oh my god." His smile slowly faded. He'd been trying so hard to not think about Timmy...

"Russell? Hey..."

"What?" Russell snapped to, looking back to Adam. He furrowed his brow in confusion, trying to think through the alcohol. "Yeah, uhm...screw it, what were we-- were we doing, before...I don't wanna talk about... anymore."

"Wanna screw with Jeff?"

Russell wove a finger in crazy exaggeration. "Yes! Yes, I do!!"

"Got any markers around here? I have an idea."

----------

Russell woke up with a snort; he found himself on the living room floor, confused. He felt around with his hands, grounding himself. What time was it? What was going on?

He tried to stand -- he fell. He looked to the window...the sun was out, so he must have made it through the night. Weren't Jeff and Adam with him? Where were Jeff and Adam?

It was then that he noticed the sloppily handwritten note next to his face. He leaned up on an elbow and snatched the note, blinking enough times to clear his eyes and try to read the childish scrawl.

Hey Russell, we found the markers and I'm writing this note with them, but Jeff didn't want to fall asleep to draw funny stuff on his face, but then you passed out so guess what I did? Hahaha...sorry man, but it was funny! Loooooooove yooooooou. - Adam Rhodes

Russell stared at the note for several minutes, baffled. Had they left? They must have left. It must be morning now, and they had left him passed out drunk on the floor. They weren't good enough friends to abandon work for him? Some friends they were, geez.

He heard his phone ring, and stood now, stumbling on wobbly legs. Where was it, where was it? On a table -- there, over there. He reached for it, answering with a sloppy, "H-hello?"

"Hello?"

"Tim? Timmy?"

"Yes...Russell?"

"Timmy? God, my head hurts. Babe, where are you?"

"Yes, I heard the three of you did a lot of drinking last night. I'm staying with Adam and Jennifer, remember?"

"Oh...oh, yeah..."

"You're hungover. I just wanted to let you know I'll be out of town with Jennifer for the day. I suppose we're fighting and I shouldn't be calling at all, we're not very good at this, are we?"

"Timmy, come home..."

"We'll talk this evening, Russell. Please stop drinking, please don't do this to yourself. Promise me?"

Russell's lower lip began to quiver. "Timmy..."

"Promise?" And then there was a pause, perhaps in consideration, perhaps acknowledgement that Russell needed thrown a bone. Timmy spoke gently: "Russell...darling..."

The word hadn't sounded right to either one of them, by all accounts absurdly ridiculous coming from Timmy's lips, and Russell found himself laughing softly. But the gesture had meant something, and if it would prevent further self destruction on Russell's end, then Timmy had done his job; he would likely never utter such a word again, they both told themselves.

"Yeah, I promise, I'm done, I-- I feel like shit, Tim."

"I'll talk to you this evening?"

"Yeah. Love...love you."

"Love you, Russell."

Russell heard the call disconnect, and looked to his phone a moment, mildly confused. About a lot of things. His first instinct was to find alcohol, but he had just made a promise to Timmy. Then again.....Timmy wasn't there. He was gone. Because he was a jerk. Who had kissed somebody else. Because he was a jerk. A jerk who...who loved him. Who called him "darling" and asked him not to drink anymore because...because he loved him.

Russell wouldn't drink anymore. He dropped his phone back to the table carelessly and ran his hands down his face. So little made sense anymore. The only thing that really made sense was Timmy...why was it that, after finally getting Timmy, everything else had started to make so little sense?

Russell thought about eating. He thought about showering. Finally he settled on going back to bed...in his actual bed. The floor wasn't doing much for him.

And then there came a knock on the door...

Notes:

Part 2 in this series has been leaning heavily into drama; I anticipate part 3 will lean more comedic. Just to ease some minds. So I plan to keep writing for awhile, and fear not, the fellas aren't trapped in perpetual misery. Xx

Chapter 12: Lost

Russell hobbled to the front door. He still didn't know what time it was, he wasn't quite sure what was going on. All he really knew was that he had a killer hangover and somebody had knocked on his door, and he didn't have enough sense to realize he should probably consider looking himself over or check through the peephole before opening the door.

He opened the door an inch, peering out suspiciously. "Who is it?"

"Russell? It's...it's Emily. I wasn't sure you'd be home, but I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd stop by for a minute--"

Russell flung the door open, spreading his arms wide. "Emily! Get in here, come in, what's up, get in here." He held his head. "Ow..."

Emily was stunned in place for a second. "Are you...are you okay?"

"I'll be okay."

She was staring at him with an odd expression, and finally pointed a finger with a weak, "Uhhh..."

"What, do I have something on my face?" He patted around aimlessly.

"Yeah. Were you with friends last night? Uhm, I've seen my fair share of frat guy stuff and--"

Russell let out a loud roar. "Adam!!" He turned swiftly, heading in the direction of a small mirror affixed to a living room wall. He examined his face; on his cheeks were the words 'Russell sucks', 'Adam was here', and 'Jeff's bitch' (Adam hadn't really thought that last one through, much to Jeff's chagrin), and on his forehead in bright red outline, a crude drawing -- something that resembled a penis. Ha ha, Adam. Ha, ha, ha.

He called back to Emily. "Come on in. See, I have this friend who's like 12 but he walks around in a full grown man suit...he's a moron. I'll be right back." When he returned, scrubbing madly at his face with a damp cloth, he was muttering to himself. "He couldn't have passed out first so I could have drawn the penis on his forehead?"

"Here, maybe I can help with that." Emily grabbed for the cloth and began blotting Russell's forehead carefully.

"Did you put soap? What kind of marker is-- oh, good, it's coming off a little." She sniggered softly. "You wouldn't want to walk around like this."

Russell felt stupid, being mothered in such a fashion. "Thanks, I guess."

"You must have been pretty wasted."

Russell felt his legs giving way; Emily sensed him toppling and helped guide him to the sofa, sitting with him as she continued blotting away ink. "Do you need me to stay here awhile, are you going to be okay?"

The question was a mild jolt to Russell's psyche, and for a time he wasn't sure how to respond. What had she just asked? Had she just willingly offered to stay with him?

"Pft, you don't need to do that! I'll be just fine, I'll be..." Suddenly Russell hauled back and, out of nowhere, took to messy, ugly crying, sinking into Emily. She allowed him in, holding him.

"Oh! Oh, no. Do you...do you need to talk, is there something you need to talk about?"

"My husband left me!"

"Oh, my gosh, no!"

"For a few days, he's coming back, probably!"

This...this seemed less of a crisis. "Oh..."

"But he still left because he sucks! He hates me, he's always hated me, I didn't think he hated me so much but he does, he really does, but he kissed her! He kissed her, Emily!"

"I'm...I'm sorry...?"

Russell pulled himself from Emily, realizing what he was doing...he wiped at his face, pulling red ink onto his hand, regained composure, and spoke again with a forced casual tone.

"So, what's on your docket today, got any plans for this evening, seeing any good--"

"Whoa, whoa, hey!!" She wasn't about to stand for this. She stared Russell down scoldingly. "A second ago you were crying and freaking the heck out, you think I'm gonna let you get away with small talk? You need somebody to talk to, somebody who cares about you is sitting right in front of you willing to listen, so talk."

Russell appeared confused; his selective listening had kicked in. "You, uh...you care about me?"

Emily looked down sheepishly; a stark contrast from her authoritarian tone mere moments ago. "I guess, I mean...well, yeah, how else am I supposed to..." She looked back to him carefully. "Listen, I want to just say that even if...even if the test doesn't go the way we're both wanting it to..." She paused, as if needing some confirmation from him. He nodded; yes, they both wanted this. "We're still friends, aren't we? Even if you're not my--" She halted, the word sticking in her throat. "My dad."

Russell felt that strange feeling again, the one from the first day they'd met. The one that felt like a switch, his soul turning on in some weird, incomprehensible way. He still couldn't decide if he liked the feeling. He'd grown to like the feeling with Timmy, and he was growing to like the feeling with Emily. He hadn't felt a lot of soul action in his life. It felt weird.

"Yeah...yeah, we're friends."

"Then you can talk to me. What's going on?"

Russell scrunched his face, thinking, considering. Her face was soft, inviting. Darn it...darn the soft, inviting faces that always got him to crack. He took a deep, uneven breath, trying not to break again. "Timmy scrammed, there was this big thing. He says he's coming back, but I think I messed up. Well, he messed up. We're both messing this thing up pretty major and I don't know what to do anymore. I mean, I thought I was getting the hang of this." Overwhelmed, his hangover and an overabundance of thoughts flooding his brain, he supported his head in his hands. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

It was funny how comfortable Emily felt with Russell in such a short period of time...they barely knew each other and here he sat, vulnerable and open. She wasn't sure why she had stopped by this morning. Indeed, she had been in the neighborhood and had felt compelled to come over, to say hello. A part of her craved more time with Russell, to know him...she needed that. With each meeting, it was becoming abundantly clear that perhaps he needed her more than she needed him.

Emily looked to the damp rag in her hand, and back to Russell's face...she resumed her task of gently erasing the crude lines Adam had drawn the previous evening.

"Aw, c'mon, wha--"

"I'm sorry things are tough with Timmy. I really liked him when I met him, he seems like such a sweet guy."

Russell scoffed heavily. "Sweet, sure." A clear case of denial; of course he was.

"Listen...you told me you guys have been best friends for a really long time. What happened to that?"

"It wasn't really reciprocal." Russell reconsidered. "Scratch that, think I'm talking for Timmy and he's an idiot about this, yeah, no, we were always best friends."

"So just do that."

Russell laughed gently, uncomfortably. "Uh, what? Do what?"

She retreated from scrubbing; there was still a slightly phallic outline on his forehead, but eh, she'd done her best. "Be best friends. Did it change somehow? Becoming lovers, becoming husbands?"

"Well, the husband thing kind of came first, but...hell, I thought the whole legally wed, let's-start-banging thing kind of made things better, actually. But then I got all hung up on trying to be a good husband, and I don't think I can do it, I kind of suck at it."

"Maybe you don't need to try and be a good husband...maybe try being a good friend and the rest will fall in line. Maybe you're forgetting how to be friends."

Russell began to shake in frustration. "I was a worse friend than I am a husband!"

"You're not a bad guy, Russell!" Emily wasn't sure why this was the right thing to say, but somehow Russell calmed down. His body mellowed; his face mellowed, and he was quiet. "You're really not...I know we don't know each other all that well, and I've only met your husband once, but I don't think he'd be married to you if you were as bad as you're making yourself out to be. Yeah, okay, my mom has told me a lot of really bad stuff about you, but it can't all be true. I mean yeah, you're kind of a jerk, and you seem just a little self centered, and you're lacking a lot in refinement--"

"You really must be my kid, you suck at this pep talk thing."

"All I'm trying to say is that I don't think that's what really matters about you. You're also kind of funny, and there's another side of you that's really nice--"

"I'm nice?"

"Yeah, you're nice!"

"Pft, well yeah, I've always thought so, but try convincing other people. Believe me, mass objection, and yeah, I'm a nice guy, I'm hella nice!"

"Well, you're nice to me! And you obviously really care about people, I mean, you care about your husband or you wouldn't be so upset about this. And he seems like a sophisticated kind of a guy, and he's with you, so he must see something in you."

Russell smiled gently, but it was fleeting.

"Well, he left..."

"You said he's coming back?"

"Yeah, but...he's threatened to leave so many times. One of these times...one of these times it's gonna stick."

Emily leaned forward, holding Russell's hands. "Has he ever left for good?"

"No..."

"Then he's not gonna leave for good now."

----------

Jen closed the hood of the car...nice rig, yeah...and did a slight double take as she examined Timmy. She laughed. "Do you always pack so much for three hour road trips?"

Timmy examined the bag in his hand. "I was raised to prepare on extended trips, in case of emergencies. Merely a few provisions, first aid, one never knows." He laughed softly at himself. "Old habits die hard."

She jabbed Timmy in the shoulder. "You probably just jinxed us! Watch, we're gonna need all of that crap now!"

"Why three hours away, anyway? Why not someplace a little more local?"

"I'm burnt out on the city, I wanted somewhere a little more out of the way, y'know? Plus I don't really want a lot of my relatives to know where I live, three hours from home sounds safe."

"Hm. Shall we be off then? Where is it we're headed exactly?"

"Oh, it's great, it's sort of a luxury cabin, so it looks like you're getting married in nature right, which Adam is all stoked about, but then you go inside and it's like bam -- full on ballroom kind of thing going on, so I get my princess wedding, best of both worlds!"

"You want a princess wedding?"

Jen was slow to respond, as though trying to will herself to feign enthusiasm. "Sure...sure, why not?"

"You've never really struck me as much of a princess type of--"

"So are we doing this, or what?"

Timmy and Jen exchanged an understanding look; they both knew this was all an elaborate facade. This trip was probably a waste of time -- a long, extensive waste of time, but they both needed the distraction. So Jen took her place in the driver's seat and Timmy in the passenger's side, tossing his bag into the back.

"I set the GPS already," said Jen. "Gonna stop by a gas station on the way out, need gas and junk food. Or maybe a drive-through, yeah -- grease, I need some grease, you like grease?"

"Uhm...not particularly, but I went shopping earlier and I packed a lovely selection of more sound, healthy options for later on."

"Oh, come on, Timmy, live a little! It's your free day, who's gonna know?"

"My colon will know."

Jen groaned. "Fine, whatever. I like you and everything, but you're a real stick in the mud sometimes, anybody ever tell you that?"

"Given the company I keep? Yes. Daily." At this he reached into his pocket, feeling for the small object he had secured there yesterday upon returning home, allowing his fingers to brush gently against it. He grew momentarily silent, lost somewhere in his thoughts...

"Timmy?"

"Hm? Ah, yes. Well." With great force he removed his hand from his pocket. "By the by, uhm...have you spoken with Adam again today, has he sobered up any? Would you perhaps know by any chance if Russell made it in to work?"

"I talked to Adam like an hour ago, he sounded a little better. But I'm sorry, he said he really hadn't heard from Russell at all." She looked to Timmy solemnly. "Maybe you should try calling him again if you're worried. I know you're supposed to be fighting but screw that, your pride's not worth it if you're gonna spend the whole day being bummed out over Russell."

Timmy shook his head in firm objection. "No. No, I made a promise to myself. I called this morning, I checked in, I performed my spousal duty...he sounded...fine. Well, no, he sounded terrible, but he assured me he would take care of himself and--"

"Seriously, you're gonna trust anything that comes out of Russell's mouth?"

"Not helping, Jennifer."

"I'm sorry. Okay, how's this, from now on no more husband talk, it's just you and me and the radio on max volume, drown out the noise in your brain, how about that?"

"Yes," said Timmy with a hesitant smile. "Quite right. What say we rev up this bad boy and hit the road? And yes. Yes, I'd like something greasy."

----------

Russell had made tea. He'd found a few snack cakes in the cabinet that had escaped the grips of the sleepover, and while not the most elegant compliment to tea, he and Emily gladly bit into Twinkies and Snowballs as they continued chatting. They'd been talking for a long while now, learning more about each other. Emily had told Russell more about her current studies, friends from school, home life. Russell had laid some groundwork, tried to explain his current situation as best he could, tried to explain Timmy. It all sounded a little convoluted, he had come to realize.

"But why would you put a tracking chip in him?"

Russell bit the end off a Twinkie; he sucked cream out slowly. "Mmm, yummy." He paused, eyes widening slightly, staring at the elongated pastry. He put it down slowly, and folded his hands with a slight cough to clear his head.

"Y'see, Emily. Sometimes when a man loves another man very much, he sticks things in the other man. Tiny things. Things that allow him to track the other man's every move without the other man ever knowing."

Emily closed her eyes a few seconds, rubbing her brow, trying to make sense of this. "Okay. So you put the tracking chip in his arm without him knowing...and that was the final straw, so he quit...but you screwed up extending his work visa, am I following so far?"

"Yes."

"So you got married to keep him from being deported, and then somehow that ended up with the two of you actually together? And this has all just been the last few months? And I walked in on you guys in happy couple mode? I mean, whoa. Whoa, I never would have thought any of...he seems to be really into you, now."

"He is into me!"

"Why? How?!"

Russell gave an over-exaggerated shrug. "Pffft! Ask him! Probably a million reason, I mean..." He attempted to laugh back on his standard mask of arrogance, gesturing up and down his body. "Why wouldn't somebody be into this?"

Emily laughed in awe. "Wow. You really are a good guy, Russell, I believe it, but that's a lot of crazy stuff you just told me, he has to be a saint to still be with you. I mean, I said I wanted a guy like yours...I mean it. I think everybody needs one of those. Where do I get one?"

"Don't think there's a Timmy store. And like I said before, a-lay off, sister, he's mine."

"I'll keep looking. And hey, I don't think you have anything to worry about. If you've gotten through all of that, you can get through this."

Emily's phone rang. She put up a hand apologetically as she reached for it, answering quickly when she saw the name on the screen. "Uh, hey, mom..."

Emily had stood, taken to pacing frantically. She spoke in a fast, frenetic tone. Russell took care to remain quiet, observing her every nervous movement with great interest.

"Nothing...I stopped by a friend's house...no, you don't know her...uh, her name is...K-Kelly. We were just studying, might do a little shopping, I'll be home late mom, don't worry about me, love you too."

When she had hung up, she looked to Russell with wide eyes. "I'm sorry about that. She...she doesn't know, I haven't told her...you understand."

Russell shrugged it off with a soft laugh. "Yeah, uh...sure. So I'm Kelly, now?"

"She would be so pissed off if she knew we were hanging out, she really hates you, please don't be mad at me, I just can't tell her, I'm so sorry, I don't like lying to my parents, oh my God, but I--"

Russell stood, grabbing Emily by the shoulders with a soft shake. "Hey, hey, hey! Cool your jets, huh? I know your mom hates my guts. Listen, my folks don't even know I'm married. They don't even know Tim's a thing. We all have our secrets, okay?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, come here." He pulled her in and she closed her eyes, sinking into him, sniffling softly.

"Now, if you feel so bad about lying, you did just tell your mom you were gonna go do a little shopping with Kelly? I'm Kelly, so let's go do a little shopping. I'll buy ya something nice." He pulled back. "Wait, is there still a dong on my head?"

She laughed gently. "Just a little dong. Let's get the soap."

----------

Jen had downed a double-decker burger, a large order of fries, and a large Coke within the first hour out, despite Timmy's mild scolding at her over the dangers of eating while driving. Timmy had considered a small order of fries and, opting to live dangerously, took a risk and dared to go medium. He was still pecking at them a good hour after Jen had finished eating.

Jen had been blasting classic rock, and the two of them had been taking great amusement in singing along at the top of their lungs to songs they both knew. She turned down the music now as commercials started up.

"You have the better voice," Jen insisted, the duo just having completed a riotous rendition of Back In Black.

"Yes, well, your showmanship is so much better," Timmy assured. "You really know how to work those vocal chords and bang that head."

Jen stifled a laugh. "Yeah, well, aren't you still in that a cappella group?"

"The Raging Toners, yes."

She couldn't stifle her laughter this time. "Okay, that's the best name for an a cappella group I've ever heard. I mean, I can't think of any others off the top of my head, but...pft, ha, Raging Toners..."

"You should really come and see us perform again sometime."

"Yeah, sure, of course...buuuut, no offense, Timmy, a cappella music? Not exactly the hippest thing around, y'know?"

"Oh, we're all kinds of hip, believe you me!"

Jen gave Timmy a glance and a smirk. He always sounded so enthusiastic about the things he liked, and yet he had a knack for still making them sound as lame as possible. Maybe it was the tonality of his presentation, but man...he was such a nerd. But eh, it was kind of endearing, she could dig it.

"Yeah, I'll come watch ya sometime," she said finally with a broad smile. Her eyes traveled to the fries still hanging lightly in Timmy's hand. "You gonna finish those?"

Timmy handed the remainder of the salted grease to Jen. "So where exactly are we?"

"Uhh, GPS says we have a couple hours to go. That can't be right, can it? I thought it said that like twenty minutes ago..." She smacked the side of the GPS. "Actually, I thought our turn should have been like ten miles back."

"Is there a problem with the GPS, perhaps?"

"Yeah, maybe. Here, hold my fries." She shoved Timmy's fries back into his hand, grabbing for the device. "Oh, crap."

"I don't like the sound of that..."

"The thing is frozen, it hasn't been updating at all!" She pulled it from the dash, trading Timmy the box for the fries again. "Maybe you can fix it."

Timmy fiddled with the box for a time, using all of his technological expertise such as: turn it off and back on. He was met with a blank screen. "I've no clue, I'm sorry."

"Rrrggh! Okay, hold up, my phone'll work..." She reached into her pocket, and her face shifted in confusion. Huh, empty. She reached into the other pocket. "Oh, crap..."

"I really wish you wouldn't keep saying that."

"I think I left my phone at home."

Timmy was growing irritated, but covered it expertly. So went the story of his life. He reached for his own phone. "I'll bring it up on mine. What's the address?"

"I think it's like...uh, here..." Jen shot out a wrist, where she had scrawled the address in pen that morning, and Timmy sighed gently, frustration seeping through a bit, as he set about copying the scribbles into his phone.

"Is that a 3 or an 8?"

"Uhm, an...an 8."

"You aren't sure? And...and what does this say, what's the street name?"

"Look, the address is like 807 East...Fiiiiinn...cchh...mont...Avenue...or something?"

Timmy glared in Jen's direction. "...Or something? Really?"

"I'm sorry, Timmy! I didn't know the thing would screw up, and I know my wrist wasn't the best place to write the address, but I put it in my phone too--"

"We don't have your phone!"

"I'm sorry!"

"All right, all right, just...how sure are you of the address?"

"Like, 90% sure."

"That implies a 10% chance of us getting lost in the middle of nowhere never to be seen or heard from again." He typed the address, trying to keep a level tone. "Splendid odds." His tone changed as his phone calculated the route. "Oh! Well...well, it says we're only about thirty miles out, so..."

Jen grinned, satisfied with this. "See? Everything's gonna be fine!"

----------

Russell and Emily stayed out for the better part of the day. They had gone to the mall, where he proceeded to buy her ice cream, costume jewelry, a teddy bear. Perhaps he was trying to catch up on lost time, framing a full grown woman as a little girl, but she didn't mind. She found his efforts at playing daddy charming, and she liked teddy bears, anyway. They'd been mistaken for a couple, but this was only natural...it was taking time for him to shake off his old image, always on the arm of some young thing, and he'd met each case of mistaken identity with, "She's my kid, ya perv!"

Their date was ended by another call from Emily's mother, and so the two parted ways at the mall, grabbing separate cabs home. It was hitting 7pm by the time Russell reached the hall of his apartment building. He was surprised to find Adam fast approaching his door as he slipped the key in the lock.

"Hey, man, what the heck are you doing here? The whole dong on the forehead thing, not cool."

Russell entered his apartment, and Adam was quick on his tail.

"Listen, Russell, something's wrong. I got off work, I went back to my place, Jen's not home. figured I would have heard from her by now, nothing. I tried calling, but she wasn't answering, which usually means she's scrolling her social media accounts or something, so I messaged her on Facebook but--"

"Wait wait wait, Jen's on Facebook?" Russell scoffed, clearly offended. He pulled out his phone and began quickly navigating. "How did I not know about this, why do I not have Jen on Facebook...?"

"Uh...well, yeah, Russell, she kind of goes under an assumed name since you found her the last time. But--"

"Whaaat? Why? I was nice to her, I hit like on all her stuff!"

"You tried to get in a poke war with her."

Russell rose his brows suggestively with a sleazy grin. "Yeah, I did."

"Plus, dude, you went on all of her pictures and commented stuff like 'nice rack' and 'drop the zero, get with a hero'..."

"Did you see the guy she was with in all those photos?"

"It was me!"

Russell had stopped listening. He was busy scrolling Adam's Facebook profile. "Oh, my God, is she this chick Penelope Vanderhausen? What kind of name is that?"

"She thought it made her sound mysterious."

"I should've figured this out ages ago! Oh my god, all she does is put dumb little kissy faces on all your status updates. If it wasn't Jen then you were having some major fling with this kitten in a pink bow...seriously, that's the picture she's using?"

"Yeah, Russell, okay, listen--"

"It says her location is 'Adam's Heart'..." Russell took to near violent laughter.

"Okay, she made the profile back before we got married, she was on that stupid romance kick..."

"Her occupation is 'the love of Adam's life'!" Russell wouldn't stop laughing. "Dude, what?! What...??"

"Okay, knock it off! I came over because Jen and Timmy should've been home by now, I can't get ahold of Jen, I thought you might like to know your husband is missing!"

Russell's laughter dissipated as he processed what Adam had just said. "Wait...what?"

"Jen and Timmy. They left this morning to go check out this wedding venue we were looking into, they haven't called, I haven't heard anything since they left..."

Russell spoke softly, trying to remember. "Tim called this morning...I was still really out of it, he said, uh...he said we'd talk later, what time is it?"

"After seven, man, they should have been back a long time ago."

Russell had already taken to calling Timmy, phone placed firm against his ear. A moment later his arm fell limp against his side. "Went straight to voicemail..."

The men looked to one another in silence, a sense of dread floating in the air between them.

----------

Timmy's phone had died. Maybe ten miles back, maybe twenty, maybe a hundred, they weren't sure. There had been a detour, construction, and they'd ended up desperately lost...just another few miles, they kept telling themselves, and there was sure to be a gas station and a phone, some method of calling for assistance and a way home. Because in all of Timmy's planning, he had neglected to pack a map. Just one little paper map to save them, to find a route back home. He felt pretty stupid right about now.

They finally found themselves pulling up upon a little old mom and pop station. It appeared run down, tarnished, but they were relieved to see signs of life. Timmy stepped out first, approaching a man who stood pensively near the doorway to the derelict old building.

"Excuse me, sir?"

The man turned his head, spat tobacco. "Yup?"

"Might you sell maps in your...fine establishment? Or might we borrow a phone? You see, my friend and I have been traveling for a long while and we've gotten ourselves quite a bit lost as it were, we really just need--"

The man turned again, spat again, continued chewing. He eyed Timmy up and down suspiciously. "Where you from, boy?"

"Uhm...what...what do you mean?"

"You heard me, boy. You one of them fellas we fightin'?"

"Oh, good lord." Timmy turned to find Jen, who had already approached and taken the initiative of stepping in front of him.

She smiled warmly, attempting to use her feminine charms to her advantage. "Sir, we really, really just want to get home. Do you have a map, a phone, anything?"

"No maps. No phones."

Jen and Timmy looked to one another, giving silent signals. This guy wasn't exactly Mr. Friendly, they needed to get out, but where were they supposed to go? He'd been the first living soul they'd seen for miles.

Jen tried again. "Maybe there's a motel nearby, somewhere we could spend the night?"

The man turned his head, spat. He gave Jen a blackened smile. "Got room for you, little lady."

Timmy gripped firm hold of Jen's arm, guiding her swiftly away. "That will be all, thank you so much for your time, so sorry to have bothered you."

They thought they heard the man spew forth an incorrect racial slur or two as they closed the doors of the car and promptly pressed the locks, Jen rushing to maneuver the keys into the ignition.

"Please hurry!" urged Timmy.

"I'm going as fast as I can!"

Sighs of relief were released as they sped away, quickly replaced with a new sense of foreboding as they gazed out on the darkening sky.

"Now what?" asked Jen. "Where are we going?"

"I suppose we drive until we find another sign of life...one a little less murderous. It can't take that long, can it?"

----------

It was midnight when Audrey drug herself out of bed to answer the door. She was more than a little irritated, but she figured that nobody would dare disturb a pregnant woman with an infant child this late if not for a real emergency, so she tried to ground herself before opening the door.

She closed her eyes and took a slow, steady breath before turning the handle. She opened the door.

"This better be good, it's twelve o'clock in the freakin' morning!"

Adam and Russell both looked fit to cry, and Audrey recoiled slightly in shock.

"What's up, guys?"

Adam sighed out long and heavy. "Jen and Timmy..."

"What about Jen and Timmy?"

Russell squeaked out lightly, "They're gone. They left together."

Audrey stared, stunned. "Wait, uh...okay, it's really late and I'm tired, I don't think I'm getting this right."

Adam spoke tearfully. "They left together and didn't come back."

"Yeah," said Russell. "Me and Timmy had a fight, he left with Jen. It's just me and Adam now..."

"Okay!" Audrey put up her hands. "Somebody explain what's going on right now, because Jen and Timmy have become pretty good friends, but I know the two of them did not run off together..."

Adam made his way past Audrey into the apartment, calming himself, trying to explain as clearly as he could. "No, it's not like that, they were road tripping someplace earlier today, they never made it back and we can't get ahold of them. We went back to my place and I found Jen's phone, I guess she forgot it when she left this morning, and Russell's called Timmy like twenty times and it always goes straight to voicemail..."

Russell spoke up meekly, still standing in the doorway. "He doesn't send me to voicemail anymore...not since we got married. Something's wrong."

Audrey pulled Russell inside the apartment, closing the door. She masked her immediate concern, speaking as gently as possible. "Well, maybe they just got a little lost, had a little car trouble? I bet they'll show up again first thing in the morning."

A new figure came trudging up towards them -- Jeff. "Ah, come on. Wasn't one slumber party enough, what's with you guys?"

Audrey turned to Jeff. "This is serious. Jen and Timmy are missing..."

"Well, yeah, I mean, look at what they're coming home to, I'd go missing too."

Russell made a run for Jeff, fist on the ready; Adam held him back.

"It's not worth it, Russell. It's Jeff, man, he was kidding, and anyway he's like ten times bigger than you, let it go, c'mon..."

Jeff scanned the occupants of the room, looking from face to face. His tone changed, realizing the severity of the situation. "Wait, seriously? This is serious, they're actually missing?"

Russell shook himself free of Adam. "Why would I drag myself over here at this time of night if it wasn't serious, ya freakin' sasquatch? What, you thought I just missed you, wanted to see your face?! Newsflash, I don't like you that much."

Adam wove Russell down. "It's been a rough night, don't listen to him, w-w-we love you Jeff, seriously, we love your face."

Audrey stepped in, realizing she would have to mediate this scene. It was obvious that Adam and Russell were slightly delirious, from worry or perhaps slight inebriation -- whatever it was, a bit of mothering would be required to keep them together.

"Listen, I'm going to set up the guest room for you guys, you can stay with us tonight. Try not to worry, they haven't been gone that long, we'll go over this step by step and figure it out. Have you eaten, do you need something to eat?"

"Can't eat," managed Russell.

"Yeah, that's okay," said Adam. "I just...I think I need to lay down."

"Can't sleep," Russell croaked. "Where the hell is he?" He made his way to the sofa, collapsing with a thud. All eyes drifted to Russell, who allowed his body to whither in defeat.

"This is why I put a tracking chip in him."

Chapter 13: Middle of Nowhere

Timmy reached into his bag, fumbling amongst scattered objects.

"Did you find it?"

"I'm looking. I packed a bit of everything, I know it's in here someplace, I...aha!" His hand emerged a moment later, flicking a switch on a flashlight.

Timmy and Jen both sighed in relief as they surveyed their surroundings. They had finally pulled off the road after what had seemed like an endless stretch of nothing, having spotted what appeared to be a small building just off a path to their right.

"Well, at least you packed a flashlight," said Jen. "Seriously, no map, no phone charger? What did you even pack in that stupid bag of yours, what was the point?"

"My head has been all over the place, I realize I did a less than efficient job. I packed a bit of food, bandages--"

"Yeah, real great, we'll call home on a bandaid."

"Yes, well. I still can't quite make out whatever this building is," he said, shining the light into the distance. "Shall we make our way over there?"

Jen groaned in apprehension. "I don't know, I've seen an awful lot of horror movies start out like this."

"Could we really end up any worse off than we already are?"

"Beheaded, skinned alive...yeah, I could say that's a little bit worse." Then, tone thick with sarcasm, "But I guess we'll be okay, I mean, you brought bandages!"

"I suppose we'd best take our chances. Grab my useless bag, won't you?"

Jen slung Timmy's bag over her shoulder as she closed the car door...gently, just in case the serial killer was already in the area. Not that she was actually scared, or anything. "Yeah, well, I've had a pretty good life. Let's go."

And so the two began their slow walk towards their only hope for civilization.

"Perhaps somebody will be there." Timmy looked back to Jen; despite the scant light, he could sense her nervousness. "Somebody not wielding a murder weapon. Someone with a phone, we can call home, figure out where on earth we are."

But as they inched ever closer to their target, something was becoming abundantly clear: nobody was there. Nobody was going to help them. They stood finally in front of the entrance to their home for the evening, shining the light, shoulders dropped in resignation to their fate.

"It's a barn," said Jen. "It's just a freakin' barn!" She looked around in desperation. "Where the heck's the house, shouldn't there be a house around here, who just leaves a barn by itself out in the middle of nowhere?"

"I don't know," said Timmy, "but we can't stay out here all night, we should really head inside." He handed Jen the flashlight, taking to prying open the door. It finally gave way with a squeak, letting off a cloud of dust. Timmy coughed, motioning Jen inside.

They found the barn empty as far as they could see, save for random scraps of hay. No signs of life. What on earth was this thing doing here?

"I can't believe this," said Jen. "This blows."

"Well, at any rate, I suppose we should settle in for the evening."

Jen followed Timmy towards a back wall, where the two of them reluctantly sat. He propped the flashlight in front of them, bouncing the light off the ceiling of the barn, gently illuminating them.

"The guys must be really worried about us," said Jen weakly. "I told Adam I'd be home by six o'clock, what time is it now?"

Timmy looked to his watch. "It's just after three AM. When I spoke to Russell this morning I said we'd speak in the evening." Timmy's demeanor changed all at once, as though the magnitude of the situation was finally hitting him. He pulled his legs to his chest, hugging his knees protectively as he looked around the lonely, barren fortress encapsulating them. "He wasn't doing at all well." Timmy looked to Jen, his face riddled with worry. "He needs me, Jennifer. He's going to think I've abandoned him, he'll start drinking again..."

"He knows you wouldn't just leave without any warning."

"You know Russell, he's not all that bright. Nor is Adam. We didn't marry for brains, Jennifer." At this Timmy's expression changed from one of worry to near panic. "Oh, my lord, they're idiots, Jen, they'll never find us. We're going to die out here!"

"We're not gonna die, Timmy...I mean, maybe, if Freddy or Jason shows up. This place is creepy as all get out. Anyway, yeah, they're morons, but they're our morons. Have a little faith in our morons, okay?"

Timmy hugged his legs a little tighter. His voice came out weak, as if the words weren't meant to be spoken aloud: "I'd give anything to see my moron right now."

"Yeah...yeah, me too." Jen felt a rush of guilt flood over her. "This is all my fault. Man, I'm like the screw up queen right now, you really need to stop hanging around with me, Timmy. I think I'm your bad luck charm or something."

"No. No, Jennifer, it's not your fault. Fate is a cruel mistress. Perhaps I've merely done something terrible in a past life. At first I believed Russell to be my comeuppance for all the deadly sins of my previous incarnations...these last months naturally I was forced to change my views on all that, and now...well, one never knows."

An uncomfortable silence overtook them. They were both indescribably tired and wanted nothing more than to rest, but neither felt sleep was within the realm of possibilities. Still...

"Hey, Timmy, I don't suppose you packed pillows and blankets in this bag of yours?"

"Well you see, if I'd been packing for a winter emergency I'd have procured at the very least a space blanket, but seeing as it's merely the end of summer and the weather has still been quite lovely--

"So no."

"No, I'm afraid not. Hard floor it is, then."

After another bout of silence, Timmy spoke: "I do have a deck of cards."

Jen managed a meager smile. "Sure. That'll work."

----------

8am arrived to find Russell and Adam asleep. It had taken a lot of work to get them there somewhere in the middle of the night, including Jeff supplying several sleeping pills, but Audrey had insisted. The men being asleep was better than them worrying themselves into a frenzy, she said.

They had finally passed out in the guest bed at Jeff and Audrey's place, laying in opposite directions, feet at each other's heads. Not gay this way, they assured themselves. Jeff thought different of the situation, but was beyond questioning this crap.

Russell's eyelids fluttered open now -- for a moment he forgot where he was. He turned to his side, instinctively flailing an arm over what he expected to be Timmy's sleeping form and, finding Adam's legs instead, shot his eyes open in shock, recoiling in near dread before remembering what was going on. He looked down towards Adam's sleeping face. Well, this was weird.

And then his heart sank. He couldn't preoccupy himself with thoughts of the weirdness that was spooning Adam's legs all night. Where was Timmy? He had to find Timmy.

Russell nudged at Adam. "Hey. Hey, wake up."

"Wha--? Jen?"

"Jen's not here, bozo, it's me, it's Russell. Your chick's out lost with Tim somewhere, remember?"

Adam shot up in bed. "Crap...crap, yeah. Have you tried calling again?"

"I just woke up, I'm about to do that." Russell pulled his phone from his pocket and pushed Timmy's number on speed dial; straight to voicemail again. "Fuck."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

Adam collapsed back into bed, and for a time the men layed motionless, quiet.

Finally Russell eked out softly, "What are we gonna do, Adam?"

"We'll figure something out, Russell."

"Yeah, but what if something happened? Why wouldn't they call us, it's not like Timmy to not call or to shut off his cell, he doesn't do stuff like this..."

Adam sat back up in bed. Russell was on the verge of freaking out again, so he would have to be the one to try and keep in together despite his lack of confidence. "Well, listen, Jen left her phone here, maybe Tim's phone died or something. Maybe they just got a little lost, it happens, they'll be home soon."

"He keeps a backup battery source on him if he's gonna be gone awhile. He's like a boy scout or something, he's stupidly prepared, something's gotta be wrong." Russell looked away, staring blankly at the walls. "I just remembered man, I had the worst dream. Like, we found them and they weren't okay, they were--" He closed his eyes, breath shaking. "Oh, my God..."

"No, don't talk like that Russell, Jen and Timmy are fine."

"Then where are they?"

Adam shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know, but when I find her, I'm telling her I want to start a family, I mean, this...this is putting everything into perspective for me, y'know? I can't stand the thought of her not coming home. Of not getting that chance."

Russell sat straight, nearly lunging at Adam, causing him to recoil. He appeared frustrated, almost angry. "You guys still haven't hashed that one out? Geez, what's wrong with you people? I've got real problems over here, just tell her! You both want a baby, what's the issue?"

Adam's voice went soft. "What...what do you mean, we both want a baby?"

"She's been yakking at Timmy about this for like a week, she won't shut up about it! Just fucking tell her, Adam! I just had an illegitimate kid show up out of nowhere and my husband might never be able to talk to his family again and hell, looks like we might not even stay together so what's he even got to show for it, but, 'ohhh no, we're Jen and Adam and planning a wedding is haaaard and we want a baby and we're big pussies about it!' Grow the hell up and talk to your wife!"

Russell was sure he'd be met with returned anger, and instead, Adam turned his face down, sad, thoughtful. "Why didn't she tell me?"

"That's all you got out of that? Seriously, that's all you got?" Russell grunted in aggravation. "Fine, I don't know, uh...she was waiting until you were ready, she didn't wanna hurt you by jumping the gun and messing up the whole wedding thing. You didn't wanna hurt her, you both didn't want to hurt each other. Over something this pathetic. Guess you're a better couple than me and Timmy, whatever."

Adam snapped to. "Hey, man, don't say that, you and Timmy are fine."

"Yeah, sure."

"Would you be so worried about him right now if you weren't?"

Russell looked away again; he had to in order to keep it together. "Adam...I, uh, probably need another knockout pill, or like a really monster bottle of booze," his voice grew increasingly frantic as he spoke, "because if I think too much about Timmy being gone right now I'm gonna spontaneously combust or something, like if we had a killer fight and then he vanished and never came home I don't think I could ever forgive myself, I don't know what I'd do, I don't--"

"Okay, calm down, okay." Adam leaned forward, hugging Russell awkwardly. Russell grimaced at the unexpected embrace...this really wasn't what he had wanted at all, but he accepted the hug finally, begrudgingly. It wasn't so bad, after all.

The door to the guest room opened, and Jeff stood a moment, staring at the scene before him.

"Well, well, well."

Adam and Russell tore themselves from one another.

Russell shook himself free of Adam's essence. "It's not what it looks like!"

"He needed comforted!" shot Adam. "A little emotional healing, Jeff, that's all, I swear."

Russell stood up, shaking himself a bit more. "That doesn't sound better!"

Jeff pointed to Russell. "Now see, we know this one swings both ways..." And then to Adam. "But are we sure you're not just a little gay, like are we sure sure about this?"

Russell joined Jeff in pointing towards Adam. "Ahhh, see, now that I'm a little gay I've got the radar, so I know, I can tell. Trust me, he's more than a little gay."

Adam clicked his tongue several times, allowing the men to complete their jabs. "Are we done?"

"I'm not hearing any counter-arguments," said Jeff.

"Fine, I'm totally gay." Adam pulled himself out of bed. "And the guy I'm married to who happens to look like a really smokin' hot chick is still nowhere to be found."

Russell dropped the snark, back to instant concern, his voice squeaking out high pitched and tearful. "She's out there somewhere with my caramel cream puff..."

"The hell?" asked Jeff flatly. "Your what? Your ca--"

Russell regained composure with a cough, voice low and manly. "So why aren't we finding them?! You got whiskey? Let's drink all the whiskey and go find them, for god's sake!"

----------

Jen and Timmy hadn't slept. They had spent the rest of night distracting themselves with cards, nibbling on granola and apples from Timmy's bag, talking about little more than nothing. As soon as the sun was up, they took to walking across the property surrounding the barn in search of a house, signs of life.

Jen stopped walking. Her feet were jelly. "How can there be so much nothing, what, did we drive into a portal to nowhere? I'm not kidding Timmy, I've seen enough horror movies to know we're royally boned, this is some major paranormal other-dimension stuff."

"Yes, well, we can't keep walking at this rate, perhaps we should turn around..."

"I need to rest a minute." Jen sank to the grass below her. She peered into the sky. "Well, at least it's a nice day to be lost in the middle of nowhere."

Timmy joined her on the ground, looking to the clouds forming across the sun. "Yes, not too hot, not too cold. Quite pleasant." He watched the clouds drift across the sky, feeling at peace for an all too brief moment before shaking himself back to reality. "Should we set back to driving, then?"

"Drive where? We're low on gas and if we don't run into another station soon--"

"We should have filled up back at that little station we found yesterday."

"The one with the guy who threw all the racial slurs at you? Oh yeah, smart idea, buy gas from the racist prick who thinks you're a suicide bomber."

Timmy laid himself flat on the ground, gazing back into the sky. Well, it would take time to figure this out, and the whole fiasco had already threatened his already rocky mental stability, so he may as well allow himself a few seconds of relaxation...otherwise he might very well fall apart. Jen followed his lead, and by all accounts the two looked the perfect vision of loveliness on a beautiful summer day, surrounded by green grass, peering up into the blue. Of course, visions are seldom what they seem.

Timmy placed his right hand behind his head, his left hand to his chest. He took to fiddling with his ring finger gently with his thumb... "How do you think the husbands are faring?"

"Adam's freaking out. I mean, he has enough separation anxiety when he knows where I am. Don't tell him I told you that, okay? He tries so hard to act macho."

"Nothing un-macho about wanting to be near one's mate."

"Yeah, but you know how the guys are. They've probably called the cops by now, y'think?"

"Knowing how reactionary Russell can be, yes, they've at least attempted to call the police. Highly unlikely they'll take immediate action, however. Our situation doesn't exactly appear dire. If anything it would seem we've run off together, as though we're having some tawdry affair."

"Yeah," huffed Jen. "I like you and everything, but..."

"Yes, of course..." The two turned their heads towards one another, exchanging a small smile before returning their attention to the clouds above them. Timmy switched gears, moaning through a sigh. "I just had the most idiotic thought."

"What's that?"

"If I had left the tracking chip in, we'd be home by now."

This forced a welcome laugh from Jen, which in turn allowed Timmy a gentle bought of laughter...but as the laughter faded, Timmy grew pensive. He was still fiddling with his ring, intently now, deep in thought...

"Timmy? You okay?"

"No, it's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?"

He sat up, looking down to the endless void of green surrounding him. "It's just...the argument between Russell and I...we made up, I suppose. The last time we spoke, I told him I loved him. But Jennifer, the things we said, I...the last thing he said to me that evening, to imply that I don't care, that I don't love him..."

"He was angry, he knows that's not true."

"What if...what if he doesn't, for some reason? He's so foolish, and I've just disappeared in the middle of us trying to figure this all out. What if we were never to see one another again and he truly believed that I didn't--"

"Timmy, stop."

Timmy released a heavy, shaking breath. He stood abruptly, brushing himself off with a smile as though nothing were the matter at all. "No sense staying out here. Shall we head back to the barn? At least there we have provisions, a bit of water, food, cards."

"I'm sick of cards..."

"Very well then, off we go."

----------

Russell was alone. Adam had retreated with Jeff to the living room, having said something about making some more phone calls, he hadn't really been listening. He needed a minute to himself. He'd been doing a lot of thinking, trying to figure out how his money and his connections could solve this problem, and was coming up blank. Timmy was the brains of the operation, and with Timmy gone...well, he felt useless, he felt pathetic.

Jeff had been kind enough to bring him a bottle of Scotch. He'd taken several swigs, heard Timmy's obnoxious voice, again -- his conscience -- asking him not to drink. He had groused about it for awhile, but put the bottle down.

Russell looked at himself now in the small, decorative mirror hanging on the guest room wall. He hadn't realized until now just how weathered he looked. His eyes were tired. He felt old as he mentally highlighted each hint of wrinkle occupying his face. He hadn't done any maintenance in days beyond marker-dong removal and despite the slow speed at which he grew facial hair, there was a slight overgrowth. He ran a hand over the stubble.

Timmy had told him once several weeks earlier that he looked fine this way. Russell had been positioned in front of the bathroom mirror, prepped to apply a menagerie of hair and facial products, a daily routine he'd grown accustomed to. Timmy, convinced that Russell was growing over-sensitive about his age, had told him in no uncertain terms that he needn't be so concerned with his appearance...and that his efforts weren't working to improve matters, anyway.

That last part was their standard jest, casual put-downs still interwoven into the tapestry of their day to day existence. Timmy had kissed him afterwards, and Russell had proceeded with his morning routine.

Now, staring into his uncleansed, unbuffed, stubble-filled face topped with bedhead, Russell felt his stomach sink. He usually did a pretty good job of convincing himself he was hot stuff, but he was losing his touch. It had taken somebody truly loving him, warts and all, for him to realize that trying to pass off the polished package wasn't really worth the effort anymore. He didn't need anybody to love the fake him...he just needed somebody to love the real him. Not just the outside stuff, but the inside stuff he worked so hard to hide beyond the cheesy pick-up lines and the fake personas. He'd finally found that...he couldn't let it get away. Not now.

He just wanted Timmy to come home.

----------

There were only so many games of cards Jen and Timmy could play before they went insane. They ran down the list of every game they knew, everything from Poker to Slap Jack, and had now taken to stacking card towers. They'd reached seven levels high when Jen, overcome with aggravation, let out a loud growl and knocked the tower over into Timmy's lap. He stared at the pile of cards, not at all surprised at the outburst, and set about collecting them slowly.

"Hungry again?"

"Gee, no." The sarcasm in Jen's voice was more than a tad thick. "I'm totally stuffed from the last granola bar and tiny bottle of water, I couldn't have another bite."

Timmy kept his composure. "I know this isn't an ideal situation, Jennifer, but please try and remain calm. We'll head out again shortly, there must be a house on this property someplace, we simply didn't walk the right direction last time. Even if it's miles away, there must be another living soul nearby...or we could still take to driving, there's surely a gas station, we'll make it home before you know it."

"We're gonna die out here!"

"You told me not to say that!"

"Well, maybe you had the right idea!" She whimpered, wrung her hands through her hair in frustration. She felt as if she was going crazy. But she softened now in defeat. More than anything, she was tired. Frightened. "I just wanna go home..."

"Of course. As do I."

"What are we doing here?!"

"The wedding venue."

"I didn't even like that place, I'm already married...and now I'll probably die in a freaking barn and never see my husband again, anyway."

"We're not dying in a barn, Jen."

"What am I trying to put together a wedding for?"

Timmy realized Jen's current train of thought was at worst further distraction, at best a revelation, and so he humored her.

"Yes, it would seem rather superfluous, but I can understand where you're coming from. I mean, being married in a hospital chapel isn't exactly what one dreams of, is it?" He added very softly, under his breath: "In a hospital...for a green card..."

"I was ready to get married at city hall! Seriously, I don't even care! I'm doing this for my mom, for my family, I'm doing this because it's just...it's what you do, y'know?"

"Then why do it at all? You can't live for others, you must live for yourself."

"I'm usually all over that, I don't know what's wrong with me...why am I so hung up on this?"

Timmy shook his head, taking to shuffling the cards in his hands. "I'm afraid that's a question you'll have to find the answer to yourself." He gestured to their surroundings. "Perhaps this is your wake up call."

Jen knew Timmy was right...he had a knack for that. She'd wasted so much time and had so little to show for it, and now here she was, surrounded by the perfect visual representation of all that spent energy. A whole lotta nothing. She didn't want to deal with it anymore.

She needed to divert.

"You know what, I'm starving. I can't live on your bird food."

"What?"

Jen snatched at Timmy's bag. "Seriously, what'd you pack in here? You've gotta be holding out on me."

"I assure you, I'm not."

"Chocolate? Ho-Hos? Come on, something."

"No..."

She rummaged through the bag, tearing out items. "Why do you have a change of clothes, why would you need a change of clothes?"

"Just in case of--"

"Wait..." Jen's face went blank, her hand ceasing it's flailing. "I think I found something."

"What?"

Jen pulled a small object from the bag. "What's this?"

Timmy snatched at the object, looking it over. "Oh...oh, my god, I'm an idiot...with everything going on, I completely forgot this was in my bag." Timmy reached frantically into a pocket, pulling out his dead phone. He beamed at Jen, growing giddy. "It's a backup power supply, I can charge my phone! We can call home, we can get out of here! You see, I suppose I'm something of a boy scout when it comes to--"

Jen was less than giddy. She stood over Timmy, anger rising. "No kidding, you're an idiot! You conveniently forgot this until now?! We could have been out of here hours ago!!"

Timmy's smile dropped. He stood to meet her, fists clenched. "Oh, really, that's how it is, is it? And you conveniently forgot your phone, had me transcribe a smeared address off your wrist, led us on this lovely little trip to the middle of nowhere! Let's go on a joy ride, Timmy, it will be fun, Timmy!"

"Yeah, well...well..."

The two of them stopped in their tracks. They didn't want to fight...it was futile, a gut reaction from fatigue.

"I apologize," said Timmy softly. "I was out of line, you didn't intend for any of this to happen. And I really should have realized this was in my bag hours ago, I can't believe we've wasted so much time, I can't--"

Jen nodded. Apology accepted. "Call home, okay? Get us out of this pit."

Timmy set about powering up his phone, heart racing in his chest. He would hear Russell's voice soon...he would come for him. They would get to go home. Together. This madness could end.

----------

Russell had taken to staring at the wall. He was seated squarely in the center of the Binghams' living room sofa, having finally made his way out of the guest room. Audrey wove a hand in front of his face every few minutes to ensure he was still alive; he would blink gently, and this sufficed, so she would carry on. Adam's coping mechanism was less catatonic and more carbohydrates. He had ravaged through Jeff and Audrey's kitchen cabinets, found every bit of junk food they had. He had stuffed his gullet, and as they were running out of salty and sugary distractions, he had taken to raiding the fridge when Jeff intervened, putting a stop to this blatant thievery. Jeff closed the fridge door.

"Wanna know how much you owe me? I've been keeping track."

Adam opened the fridge again. "Put it on my tab."

Jeff closed the fridge. "You don't have a tab here. And, uh, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid opening one is entirely out of the question and -- $87, you owe me $87."

Adam scoffed. "I didn't eat $87 worth of--"

Jeff nodded slowly. "Yes."

Adam groaned. He leaned his head against Jeff's shoulder and whimpered gently. "I use food to fill an emotion void! I just want Jen to come ho-o-ome!"

"Ohh...c'mon, don't...we'll get her home, huh? Snot all over the shirt--"

Back in the living room, Audrey was growing weary of her living centerpiece. She made a decision finally, sitting next to Russell. Reluctantly, she patted his leg...once. Hit. She hit his leg.

"So...how ya doin'?"

No response.

"Y'know, Timmy's a pretty smart guy, I'm sure whatever happened, he can get himself out of it. Car trouble, he can figure that one ou--"

Very softly: "Not a car guy."

Ah! She'd gotten the statue to speak. The people person was on a roll now!

"Well, he's with Jen, and Jen knows about cars, huh? They're both smart cookies in their own way. I'm sure they know all kinds of stuff that could get 'em out of tricky situations. I was watching this show the other day on what to do in case you're abducted and--"

This was enough for Russell to flip. He turned to Audrey, gripping her firmly by either arm, screaming in her face. "ABDUCTED?! YOU THINK THEY WERE ABDUCTED?! What, is-is there a ransom note?? Why must I be so abundantly financially blessed, why did he have to marry into money?!"

"No!! No, Russell, calm down, I didn't mean that, no, no, they're fine, they weren't abducted, everything's fine, you can let...let go, Russell..."

Russell released Audrey's arms, returning to his comatose position staring forward. Audrey shook him now. "No, don't do that either, come on. Timmy's not gonna get home by you wearing a hole in our sofa."

Russell looked back to Audrey in annoyance, arms crossed. "Whatta you care?"

"Knock it off, don't give me that. I just let you sleep in my apartment, I fed you, I'm practically babying you, and I'm not exactly in the market for another baby. I'm already working on two, three if you throw in Jeff. And I'll have you know I've been exhausting all my resources, I have friends in law enforcement and--"

"Ha! You don't have friends."

"And you're a pompous jackass, but Timmy seems to like you, and we both like Timmy."

Russell's face softened. He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"Uh-huh. So let's just play nice and work together to get your husband home, shall we?"

Russell allowed himself to really look at Audrey...he trusted her. She cared. "Yeah. Well...uh, thanks, I guess." There was a sincerity in this exchange, gentle and friendly, a rarity between the two of them. "I just...I don't know what I'd do without him. Like, I kind of remember what it was like before he came around, but it's fuzzy..."

"Yeah, that's how it goes, you start melding together a little. I can't really remember the pre-Jeff days. I try to, sometimes. I'd like to, sometimes." Russell looked a bit worried at this, and she patted his leg reassuringly, less violently this time. "Kidding."

And then it happened -- at first Russell was too shocked to react. His ringtone drifted from his pocket loudly, he'd set the volume on his phone to max, and once his brain had processed the sound, he yanked it out frantically.

At first he dropped his shoulders in disappointment, expecting to not see Timmy's name. It hadn't been his name all this time, why would it be his name now? And then came the double take. He hoisted himself from the sofa.

"Holy crap, it's Timmy!!" He thrust the phone in Audrey's face. "IT'S TIMMY!!"

Audrey stood, flailing her arms. "Well, why aren't you answering it?! I'll go get Adam, answer the frickin' phone!"

Russell looked to the phone, temporarily forgetting how to answer it. Oh my god, answer, it's Timmy, oh my god, please don't be the abductors, please actually be Timmy!!

"Timmy?!"

"Russell?"

"Holy crap, Timmy!!" Russell took to frantic breathing, hyperventilating.

Timmy stood listening, allowing Russell his process.

"What's happening?" asked Jen.

"Russell is freaking out," said Timmy. He pulled the phone from his ear and placed it on loudspeaker -- Russell's heavy breathing filled the barn. "Everything is fine, give it a moment... Russell? Russ-- Russell, it's me. Shall we breathe, now? Do you remember how to breathe?"

Adam had made his way from the kitchen. "Put it on speaker," he urged. Russell pulled the phone away from his ear, punching the speaker icon, and Adam spoke: "Jen?!"

Jen grinned from ear to ear. "Adam! Honey, I'm here!"

"Ah! Jen, are you okay?!"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm okay, Timmy's been starving me and my feet hurt but I'm okay! The killers didn't get us!"

Timmy hit Jen lightly in the shoulder and the two exchanged small smiles. They could joke now; they knew everything would be just fine.

"We were so worried," said Adam. "Man, we really--"

And then Russell's voice came out angry across the line. "Where the hell have you been?!"

There was a collective silence, heavy and tense; the happy reunion had just turned cold. Adam gripped Russell's shoulder and he was quickly brushed away. Jen grew worried as she watched Timmy's face go blank, trying to process Russell's tone. He responded in kind.

"Excuse me? Where the hell have I been...?"

"Yeah, you heard me!"

Timmy's face contorted in anger. "I've been trapped in a god forsaken barn! I've been trying to figure out how the hell to make it home to you, you sniveling little..."

Jen took it upon herself to step in. "Okay, you're both in time out! Go to your corners, I've been trapped in this damn barn too and I wanna talk to my husband, can I do that, can I talk to my husband?!"

Timmy had already set about walking away and Jen heaved a sigh as she watched him leave.

On the other end of the line, Russell had plunked himself back onto the sofa. A sense of shame had flooded over him; why had he done that? God damn it -- he'd driven him away already. No. No, he needed him back. He wanted him back. Fuck.

"Adam?"

"Jen, what the heck happened?"

"I feel so stupid, I never should have done this, and I don't even want to get married in a luxury cabin, Adam, I don't care where we get married, I mean we're already married, I just want to not die in a barn..."

"In a...in a barn? You guys keep saying that, where are you?"

"We're trapped in a barn, I don't know where we are exactly..."

After a moment of stewing, Timmy had made his way back to Jen's side. He spoke very softly. "I can pin down our location from my phone, I'll send it to them."

"Timmy says he'll send our location, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Jen, when I get there, we need to have a talk...I've been doing a lot of thinking and--"

"Yeah, me too. I was pretty sure that some crazy guy in a mask was gonna come out of the shadows and hack me up, and honey there's still plenty of time for that to happen on your way here so make it fast, huh?"

"Yeah...yeah, okay. I'll go home and grab some stuff, I'll call back when we're on our way, okay? You hang tight, honey I-I love you, I love you so much."

"I love you, Adam..." Jen turned to Timmy. He was still stewing, pacing back and forth in deep thought. She approached him, touching him gently on the shoulder. She mouthed the words, "Talk to him."

Timmy sighed and looked around in hesitation. Jen took the phone off speaker, covering the mouthpiece. "Come on, Timmy, you're not gonna talk to Russell just because he acts like Russell? Cut it out, one of you has to be the grown up here, guess who?"

Timmy snatched the phone. "Hello...yes, Adam? Might we go off speaker a moment? Yes, I realize...well, I don't know, shove the phone in his face."

Adam did as he was told. He shoved the phone in Russell's face, who grabbed it hesitantly, bringing it slowly to his ear. "Yeah?"

"Really? Where the hell have I been?"

"I didn't mean--"

"After what I've been through, you have the nerve to address me in such a manner? As if I'd willingly placed myself in this situation, as if I wanted to spend my time gallivanting throughout God knows where, sleeping on a cold hard floor instead of in our bed with-- I want to come home, Russell."

"To Adam and Jen's?"

"No...I want to come home."

Russell's face was one of utter relief, grateful and happy. But he wouldn't let Timmy know it; he forced his voice to be cold, contained. "I don't know. We both said a lot of stuff we didn't mean, and uh..."

"Oh, I meant much of what I said."

Russell wasn't quite so happy anymore.

"But I'd still like to come home. If...if of course you--"

"Where are you at? I'll come get you. I left all your stuff the way it was, I didn't move anything."

"Well, I've only been gone for a couple of days, so..."

"Broke your picture of Gandhi, though. I was pissed. I'm sorry."

"Yes, well, turning your aggressions towards me onto Gandhi of all people certainly seems a reasonable response."

"I'll get you a new one, a-a better one, a top notch picture of the G-man, and we'll put it right there on the mantel, or hey, above the bed, it'll be the centerpiece of the whole--"

"Russell!" Russell zipped it. "Now listen very carefully. Please calm down, pull yourself together. I'll send our location, you and Adam will come and find us. Please, just get us home and I promise everything will be fine."

"You promise?"

Timmy wanted everything to be fine; he needed everything in his life to be fine without pretense. But right now, hearing Russell's voice, all he wanted was to see his face, to hold him, to be home safe in his arms where he knew he was loved so genuinely -- never flawlessly, but always genuinely. Please, Russell, I need you.

"Everything will be fine, Russell. I promise."

Chapter 14: Found

Notes:

*Sexy stuff ahead.*

Adam and Russell were halfway into their little trip to the middle of nowhere, and the majority of the conversation thus far had fallen on Adam. Russell, having taken control of the driver's seat, was going more than a little insane with Adam's topic of choice and had considered steering into a ditch a time or two...

"And did you know that somewhere in the world a baby is born every three seconds? So right now, right this very second, a baby is being born...and now another one...and there's another one...and there's--"

"Oh my god, would you shut up about babies, save it for the wife! Do I look like I care?!"

Adam observed Russell's face for a few moments. "No..."

"Then shut up!"

"Geez, you're really in a mood, what's your problem? Jen and Tim are safe, we're gonna see 'em soon, you should be happy..."

"You don't zip it long enough for my brain to process that little fact, geez...can we please change topics, I swear if you say one more word about babies I'm turning this car around and--"

"And leaving Timmy in a barn?"

"Just drop the goo-goo, ga-ga, you're driving me nuts."

"Sorry. It's not even really about the baby thing, I guess...I talk a lot when I'm nervous. I mean, now that I know Jen's on board, I'm super stoked, but...I'm just worried..." Adam turned his head down, mood suddenly shifting.

Russell sighed. "What's the sitch?"

"Well, this morning, I went back over to our apartment, right, to see if I could find anything else, like any leads to where they might have ended up."

"Like a note from the abductors...?"

"What?"

Russell shook his head. "Uh, nothing..."

"Anyway, I went through her lingerie drawer and--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up..." Russell put up a hand, losing his train of thought. He'd aimed to ask a question about the absurdity of this, rummaging through a lingerie drawer for clues as to Jen and Timmy's whereabouts, but somewhere within formulating the question he'd gotten lost between "Jen" and "lingerie" and was staring at the empty stretch of road in front of him, jaw lightly gaped.

"Russell...?"

"Wh-what?"

"You told me to hold up, I'm holding up..."

"Wha--? No, uh, tell...tell your little story...does it somehow involve delightful reminiscing of Jen in the lingerie? Spare no details!"

"What? No!"

Russell went back to being irritated, slumping forward a bit against the wheel. "Figures."

"Anyway..." Adam eyed Russell in mild annoyance before perking up again. "I found a book of baby names."

Russell groaned heavily. "That was the whole point of that set-up?! You tease me with lingerie just to lead to babies?" Russell pondered this a moment. "That's marriage. That's what happens, that's what's happening to you, man, you're falling right into the trap! Why do you think I married a guy? No babies poppin' outta that one!"

"So he can tease you with lingerie without the risk of pregnancy?"

"Yes! Wait, what?" Russell thought about this; he appeared sickly contemplative, but not the least bit turned on. "Okay, that's...that's not doing it for me." His face turned thoughtful, as if he may be reconsidering. Ah, fuck...he hadn't had any action in days, not even a little self-assistance, and he was more than a little pent up...he'd been a bit consumed with thoughts of ravaging Timmy now that they'd more or less made up. Mph, at this rate, let him wear some lace and garters, he'd rip off that-- Damn it, not here, not now, no hard-ons in the car with Adam for hell's sake...

"Just talk about your damn baby thing."

"What?" A grin grew sheepishly across Adam's face. "Sorry, I was just thinking about Jen...man, it's been awhile since I've seen any of that stuff in action, y'know? With all the stupid wedding crap, we've been so stressed out, and..." Adam moaned gently. "She's got this little black number that makes her boobs look really..." Adam gestured towards his own chest.

"BABY THING."

Both men took a deep breath, looking away from one another. Russell settled on thinking unsexy thoughts. Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts... Dirty feet, super duper old people, disgusting vinda-dinda-- no, don't think about Timmy!

"Well, I didn't find just the baby name book." Yes, listen to Adam's stupid unsexy voice. Do that. "I mean, that was awesome, it shows me that she's serious about this baby thing, but under that I found her journal."

"She has a journal? What is this, middle school? And you read it? C'mon, dude."

"I was desperate, we were freaking out! Come on, you would have done the same thing."

"Yeah, well. What crazy mysteries of Jen did you uncover in this little diary? She has a crush on her teacher, her best friend stole her boyfriend, she totally hates brussels sprouts?"

"Brussels sprouts?"

"I don't know, do I look like a little girl?"

"Yeah, kind of." Before Russell could object Adam continued, "So anyway, I didn't find a lot of stuff in there. It was mostly just boring day to day stuff. Like there was a page about that day we went to that really boring art expo, and a whole lotta stuff about being stressed about the wedding, and some stuff about how much she hates my family...but then I found a bunch of stuff about her wanting a baby, just like you said, man--"

"So this whole thing was just you leading up to more baby crap?"

"No, that's...that's not it. It's how nervous she was to talk to me about it. Nobody should be scared to communicate in a relationship, I don't want to start my marriage out like that. What if that's how it's always gonna be between us?"

"Don't worry about it."

"I have to worry about it, man. You don't get it, you're new to this whole real relationship thing, but Jen and I have been together for long enough now that I don't think we should be keeping secrets from each other..."

"Why do you have to say it like that, you think I don't know anything about relationships? I'm not an idiot. Why do you think I avoided it for so long? Because of crap like this!"

"Yeah, well, too late now, huh? You're stuck, man, and you entered into this thing more than a little willingly..."

"Yeah, whatever, he roped me into it."

Adam chuckled, happily sidetracked from his anxiety over Jen, seizing his opportunity to tease Russell. "You were out for him bad, man, we all see it now. For years you would say that crap about not wanting to be tied down and then you basically started chasing Timmy as soon as you hired him..."

"Did not!"

"Ah, denial! So defensive!"

"Shut up, jerkwad!"

"Pft, whatever. Anyway, Jen talked about you guys in there a little, in the journal. She's all over Tim lately, y'know? Didn't think they had much in common, but whatever, gets us some more bro time, am I right? Gets us away from all the newlywed drama for awhile."

Russell feigned enthusiasm at this. "Yeah! Yeah, sure, I guess." Adam's smile was infectious, however, and Russell found himself smiling back. Adam genuinely valued his companionship, something that couldn't be said for...well, most of the general populace. Once Timmy had appeared on his radar, Russell had quite carelessly brushed aside the more intimate aspects of any other friendships in his life. Now that he understood Timmy, now that he was beginning to understand more about himself, he was allowing others back in. Sure, more bro time, why not? Adam was a good guy.

"And I mean, Jen felt really bad about the whole Allison thing."

A good guy. Not a particularly smart guy. He just had to mention Allison.

"Yeah, well...she should feel bad."

"She didn't know, man. Like, there was a page in there from a few days before it all went down. She wrote a lot about how much Timmy and Allison had in common..."

Russell froze. He wanted to cut Adam off, he didn't want to hear anymore, but he allowed him to continue speaking, too stunned to utter a word...

"Like their similar interests and their personalities and just like how she thought they'd really get along and how they'd probably really click as friends..."

Russell murmured softly, "As friends..."

Adam continued talking. He'd probably changed topics, but Russell wouldn't have known. He was too focused on what he had just been told. Adam, foolishly, wouldn't understand why Russell wouldn't speak for the rest of the trip, lost in his thoughts. Thoughts of how seemingly little he had in common with his husband, fears resurfacing of Timmy asking this very question months ago, 'what do we have in common?', of having to search for answers.

Allison had things in common with Timmy. Timmy knew this, and was attracted to her, and had kissed her. The image was planted securely in Russell's mind, watching his husband locking lips with a person with whom he was clearly more compatible. He would have left him in a heartbeat, he would have had sex with her and forgotten all about him, and never come home if only he'd had the chance. Russell was sure of it.

Russell did his best to hide the tears welling up in his eyes, anger permeating every inch of his body as his hands gripped hard against the wheel, tense and red.

"Russell...? You...you okay, man?"

And so, on the precipice of reuniting with Timmy, Russell spent the rest of the trip struggling to make a decision. He would either make mad, passionate love to him...or he would punch his no good, cheating lights out.

----------

Jen and Timmy stood at the entrance to the barn, leaning gently against either side of the open door frame, staring out into the distance. It was hitting evening and the clouds in the sky had grown darker, threatening rain; as the first drops fell, Jen turned to Timmy, her smile relaxed, happy.

"Guys'll be here soon. Any minute...we'll get out of here!"

"Yes," Timmy responded flatly.

"So, hey, this was a fun little trip, huh?"

"Yes, crazy fun."

Her smile eased down. "Hey...awhile ago you asked me if this was my wake up call. Well, it is. I've gotta start living for myself, right? I'm gonna talk to Adam about having a baby, this is a new chapter in my life, I'm really excited!"

Timmy managed a glance towards Jen; a small smile. "I'm so glad for that, Jennifer. You'd make an excellent mother, I really do believe that." His words were sincere, but his mind was elsewhere.

They turned back towards the rain. "Weather was so nice earlier," Jen muttered. "Weird how it turned so fast."

"Yes. Funny how things can turn so quickly." Timmy's hand drifted back towards his pocket, reaching for the small item he had been fiddling with the last two days, pulling it finally from its fortress. He examined it with great care as he'd done so many times before, running his fingers softly over each minute detail.

Jen watched him as his face grew soft, drifty. "What's that?" When he failed to respond, she walked the short distance towards him. "Oh, hey, is that the thing Russell gave you? The day we moved you in?"

Timmy carefully diverted his gaze towards Jen, gripping the small wooden elephant protectively. "Yes...I grabbed the little fellow from my nightstand after the fight. I...I just needed a piece of..."

Timmy's sudden silence let in the sound of the intensifying rain. And then, "I was jealous once."

"What?"

"Russell was so incredibly jealous of Allison. Of course he had every right to be, given my actions, but he insinuated that he'd been jealous of Allison long before he and I were ever together, which is ludicrous, it was merely Russell spouting off, and then-- and then I realized something."

"What's that?"

"I was jealous once. Long before we were ever romantically involved, I mean, I never would have thought at the time..."

"Over some woman Russell was with? I mean, he was never with anybody long enough to--"

"Not a woman. We had an intern at the office once, a young man by the name of Topher. He was a major scale douche, Russell decided he was cool."

"That figures."

"He started trying to hang out with this Topher, he stayed out all night going to clubs, making a fool of himself. Anyway...I guess for awhile this young man sort of took my place. I came to the realization around that time that I really didn't have anyone aside from Russell. I felt very lost."

"So you got jealous over a guy?"

"Yes...ironic, I suppose. Old man Freud would surely have something to say about that, wouldn't he?"

Timmy brushed the initials etched into the underbelly of the elephant, a familiar sensation to his fingertips. "T+R"...this small gesture had already prevented more senseless arguments than Russell would ever know. Timmy would secure himself in the bedroom, grab the elephant, stare at those small letters -- his initial having been placed selflessly first, Russell allowing his name to come secondary -- and he would remember why he was in this thing.

He stared into the face of the small wooden pachyderm with a heavy sigh. "Yes, well, it seems Freud was right."

With this he knelt towards the bag by his feet, securing his treasure safely away for now. It had served as a means of security these past few days. Now, Russell was coming for him, and despite a subtle gnawing still within his gut, Timmy felt a sense of peace at this thought, as though everything would be okay.

Little more time passed before they saw the car pull in, and Jen and Timmy stirred to attention, excited and relieved. Only one figure emerged.

Adam took to a jog, meeting Jen with a heavy hug and spin as Timmy leaned back against the door frame, watching the happy reunion. There were no words as the couple took to sloppy kissing, forgetting for a moment that they were being watched. Timmy turned away, looking to the car in expectation; he wasn't coming.

And time ticked away, several minutes passing without much to-do as the rain grew heavier, the sky grew darker, and still no movement from Russell. Timmy tried texting him to no avail...something was wrong. He gave up on feeble attempts at communication, so near and yet so far away. But the rain was persistent now, the sky was growing dark...

Jen and Adam forgot about Timmy, finding themselves in a warm embrace towards the back of the barn. Adam rubbed his nose against Jen's. "I'm not letting you out of my sight again, pookie-woo."

Jen was far beyond questioning Adam's cheese and grinned foolishly as she returned the Eskimo kiss. "I'll stay in your sight forever and ever, my widdle teddy bear!"

Timmy standing awkwardly on his own watching this scene was forcing him to grow tense, never mind a bit sick to his stomach. "I hate to break up this beautiful reunion," he said finally, gaining the attention of Adam and Jen, "but is there perhaps some reason Russell is behaving..."

"Like a total ass? Yeah, I dunno man, he started getting weird on the way over here, you should probably go get him." Adam turned back to Jen, and their kiss was less Eskimo in nature this time and more French again, leading Timmy to turn back away uncomfortably.

"Well, then..." He headed for the barn door, and stared into a sheet of rain with a sigh before making a dash for Russell.

Once there, he knocked on the car window and stood waiting for Russell to emerge, knowing full well he wouldn't. And so finally he pulled open the door to find him staring at the wheel, appearing rather comatose.

"Russell...?"

Russell had expected Timmy to come for him; it was just a matter of time. He answered softly, eyes never deviating from the wheel. "What?"

"Why are you just sitting in the car, what are you doing? Please come inside, it appears the storm is only going to get worse, you can't stay out here..."

"Car is comfortable, could stay out here all night, I've spent nights in cars before."

"Yes, in the company of women, not by yourself in the middle of a torrential downpour, now please, get inside. We'll see if this rain lets up a bit, we'll head for home."

"You're not my mother, you can't lecture me."

Timmy couldn't piece together what was happening, but he was used to Russell's random, poorly timed childish tantrums, and so he fell in line.

"Russell T. Dunbar, get out of this car or so help me, I'll--"

Russell turned suddenly, no longer a zombie. He was angry, he was ready to fight. "You'll what? What are you gonna do, Timmy, huh?" Russell stepped out of the car, shoving Timmy back. "Huh, what are you gonna do?"

"Huh," Timmy stood tall, victorious. "Well, as it appears you've obeyed my order, I suppose I won't be having to do anything at all."

Russell looked himself over, realizing he had indeed done Timmy's bidding, finding himself outside the car. "Oh, well, shit." He turned back just as Timmy rushed the car, slamming the door.

"No. We're going inside the barn, we're escaping the storm and you'll not be throwing a juvenile hissy fit. Not tonight, Russell, not now! Not after all I've been through!"

The men's voices began to rise to match the growing intensity of the storm, enabling them to hear one another over the rhythm of the rain.

"Me, I'm the one having a hissy fit?! You're the one out here slamming doors! Dude, I'm just sitting in a car, minding my own business when some little Mahatma Ghan-dweeb comes around busting up all the natural ambiance of this peaceful little summer night!"

There came a sudden crack of thunder, forcing Russell to jump.

Timmy attempted to wipe the rain from his glasses, and, finding this useless, angrily pulled them from his face, shoving them into a pocket; the rain was impairing his vision, anyway. "Oh, cut the crap! You were hiding from me!"

"Yeah, right!"

"Yes, that's right!"

"Get outta here, leave me alone, we both know you're just gonna leave in the end anyway!"

Timmy felt his heart sink; all he'd wanted was to see Russell. All he'd wanted was to go home, to make amends and put an end to this...why was he doing this? Why here, why now? Russell had just confessed something; he had just shown a touch of vulnerability, but Timmy was growing infuriated. He wouldn't back down.

"I know what this is. You're still angry at me for throwing a few truth bombs at you! Well, guess what, buddy boy, you're about to get a few more!"

"No, let me drop some bombs on you, buddy boy. You think you're so much better than me? Well, your halo's a little crooked, pal! I'm not the one off shacking up with exes in dark alleyways!"

"It wasn't...I didn't...fuck you!"

Russell was too shocked to retaliate at first. He hadn't anticipated Timmy breaking stride and hurling forth this particular phrase; he screamed back the only reasonable reply there was: "Fuck you!"

"No, fuck you!"

"Yeah? Well, fuck you, Timmy!"

"Damn it, Russell Dunbar, you're positively incorrigible!"

"Whatever the hell that means, right back atcha, and oh yeah, fuck you!"

The men panted heavily, rain pouring steadily against them. Why hadn't they escaped the storm yet? They both aimed to prove they were more stubborn than the other. This was a game they were determined to win.

Timmy spat. Finally he spoke out again, just loudly enough to hear, "Fuck you."

"Yeah, well fuck you!" Russell stamped his feet, brushing wet hair from his eyes. He growled loudly. "Damn it, are you as turned on as I am right now?!"

Timmy growled back. "Yes, and I'm not at all happy about it!"

They stared at one another now, a different sort of intensity growing in the air between them.

"Well, that's not gonna stop me!" said Russell finally.

"Well then, get on with it!"

And with that Russell attacked, lips on Timmy's, as the sky continued to shower them with hard rain.

----------

Adam and Jen sat against the back of the barn, kisses finally dissipating softly down. They smiled warmly at one another as Jen cuddled into Adam.

"Y'know," said Adam, "the guys are still outside." He ran a hand up her side suggestively, sneaking towards her most obvious lady bits. "We could, uh--"

"Adam!" She shoved his hand down, but only slightly. "They'll be back any minute, we're not having sex in a barn. What do I look like, a cow? Answer carefully."

"...You don't look like a cow?"

"Correct answer." Jen nestled further against Adam's chest. "This has been a really weird couple of days. And I was thinking, it wasn't even that long really that we weren't sure we'd make it back, but it felt like forever...I was really starting to lose it. And I mean, I like Timmy and everything, but he was starting to get emotional about the whole Russell thing. Now, this..." She rubbed a hand gently against Adam's arm. "I like this."

"Yeah, well. All I know is that I'm even happier to call you my wife today than the day I married you..."

Jen grinned wide. "Awh, Adam..."

"Seriously, honey, not knowing where you were...I was scared. I don't ever wanna lose you again...a-and I've been thinking a lot about that. About how there are some things in life you can't predict. Like, what if something had happened to you?"

Jen squeezed Adam's arm in reassurance. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, but what if? It took us so long to get married, we could have, we should have done it a long time ago...I'd hate for us to put off other stuff we should do now, if we both want something we should just go for it...none of this years of planning, just take a chance, y'know?"

Jen pulled herself slowly from Adam, gazing deeply into his eyes...it wasn't always easy to tell what Adam was thinking. He was such a sweetheart, but not always the brightest crayon in the box...heck, sometimes his crayon seemed pretty much worn to the nub. But right now he was making a lot of sense...what was his deal?

She smiled slowly. "Adam...what are you trying to say?"

"Well...if you're ready...and I'm ready..."

"Ready for what?" Jen coaxed.

"For...a..." Adam didn't want to be the first to say it, even if he already knew Jen was in agreement. Just in case he was wrong, just in case she'd changed her mind at the last second.

Hearts raced, large smiles forming over both their faces, stupid and giddy.

"Y'know," urged Adam. "For...for a...y'know..." He began to sing lightly to the tune of Rock-a-Bye Baby. "La la la, la la..."

They both shook, urging the other to complete the sentence...come on, spit it out already. Finally Jen nodded excitedly, taking a chance. "I want a baby! I do, Adam, I want a baby!"

Adam wrapped his arms around Jen. "Oh, my god, I thought you'd never say it, geez!"

"Really?! So we both..."

"Yeah, we were both too scared to say anything, we've both been acting like idiots about this! We could've made a baby by now! You could've already had a little Jen or Adam in you..." Adam placed a hand gently to Jen's stomach as if there were already a tiny person inside, looking on her flat belly admiringly.

"The only thing you're fawning over in there is a stomach desperate for a real meal." As if on cue, her stomach growled, rumbling gently against Adam's hand.

"Awwwh. It kicked," said Adam with a giggle. Jen shoved his hand away. "Listen, honey, when we get home I'll take you out for a five star dinner, champagne, candles, the works. And we'll get a hotel, a nice hotel...just you and me and some high class baby making, how's that sound?"

"That sounds perfect."

"Then again...we could always start on the baby makin' riiight now...." Adam's hands began traversing Jen's sides, and she shoved them playfully away.

"Adam! Again, Timmy and Russell are gonna be in here any minute, and again, I'm not having sex in a barn! My clock's not ticking that fast, geez."

"C'mon, we've done it in weirder places."

Jen shrugged, conceding to this point.

"Didn't you miss me?"

Jen smiled, kissing Adam gently on the cheek. "Of course I missed you. And trust me, as soon as we're home, I'll make it worth your while. I think we can wait a few hours..."

----------

Russell had thrown Timmy to the ground. It may have been an accident, having shoved Timmy away from him just a touch too hard to break their crazed kiss, but he loomed over him now, heat rising through his core...Russell's head started spinning as he watched the rain pummel down...onto Timmy's brown sugar skin...vulnerable, sprawled out for the taking...ready for him...

Timmy, stunned and winded from the fall, was prepared to right himself when he found Russell laying over him, his arms being pinned firm above his head. For a moment their eyes met, passionate and furious...fighting frequently led them here, nowadays. It seemed a strange yet natural evolution for two men whose sexual desires had grown from a place of such bitter animosity. They both knew that look. I hate you. I love you. I want you. And now, drenched with rain and lost in the midst of the storm, their mouths met again in a violent embrace.

For awhile Timmy found himself lost in this, having longed for Russell in their brief time apart, so uncertain of their reconnection. He allowed Russell his display of sexual prowess; indeed Russell had taken to mindless grinding against Timmy as their tongues met, his hands gripping ever harder against Timmy's wrists where they pressed into the dampening ground. But this was madness, as much as they both wanted this, it was pure madness -- finally Timmy broke his arms free, grasping Russell's shoulders, breaking their mouths apart so as to yell in his face.

"Why?! Why would you behave in such a manner, weren't you the least bit worried about me?!"

Russell shoved Timmy's shoulders into the ground, causing him to flinch in pain.

"I tried to find you, y'son of a bitch! That's all I've been doing, I kept dialing your damn number, we had the cops on it, the second I saw it was you calling I flipped my fucking gears, you think I wasn't looking for you?!" Their breaths were hard. Russell's face contorted as he tried to hold back tears. "Damn it, I was...I was scared...I thought something happened to you...I thought I'd lost you, Tim, fuck..."

The anger dropped from Timmy's voice. "Russell..."

"And then when I finally find you all we do is fight! All we ever do is--"

"Well, that's...that's not all we're doing. But at any rate, you started the fight, why would you--"

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing! I thought...I thought you were..."

Timmy pulled Russell back down to him, holding him tight. "I'm so sorry, Russell...no, I'm so sorry..."

Russell collapsed into sobbing.

"I'm fine, Russell, everything's all right..." Timmy's voice cracked. He tried desperately to hold back tears and found himself failing. "Oh my god, I'm the world's biggest jackass..."

Russell spoke through sobs. "No...no, you're not, I'm the biggest jackass, it's me, it's always me..."

"No, no, I'm beginning to catch up, I'm afraid..."

"Dude, we're both giant jackasses!"

"Why are we on the ground crying in the rain? What in the bloody hell is this, have we been transplanted into the middle of the most ludicrous romantic drama ever written?"

Russell pulled himself back up, tears mixing with rainwater, and stared at Timmy as best he could through the cloudy, rain-soaked haze. He sniffled, controlling his crying, and let loose a shivered breath. "Were we gonna screw...?"

Timmy laughed in disbelief. "This is even more ridiculous than I thought, we're on celluloid right now, what is this? We...we should really go join Jennifer and Adam inside, this is...this is insane."

The men's breathing labored as Russell leaned back into Timmy, kissing him softly at first. Timmy placed a hand to the back of Russell's head, inviting him to stay; this was all it took for Russell to return to their previous height of passion, mouths clashing, desperate grinding, forgoing any subtlety.

Timmy's free hand trailed down to the small of Russell's back, finding its way under his shirt; at first his fingertips traced his spine gingerly, eliciting small, welcome jolts from Russell...and then all at once there came clawing on wet skin, prompting Russell to lurch. Timmy pulled Russell back to him, deepening their kiss, driving his nails harder into Russell's flesh.

Russell relished in the surge of pain for a time, allowing Timmy his moment of control. As the pain dissipated, he had the sense to regain power...lifting himself up, he grabbed at Timmy's arms with a growl, pinning them back to the ground. He hovered, staring him down, his wet hair tumbling down and framing Timmy's face -- for a moment their eyes met, their intentions made clear. This was happening. The fight was on.

Timmy grunted, wrestling his arms free, and found the strength to sit up, pushing Russell to the ground. He threw himself atop him and stared him dead in the eyes.

Russell let out a frustrated roar. "Come on, Timmy!!"

"Can't take it, old man?!"

There was a sudden burst of rain, harder than before, and the men gasped. Timmy shook himself wildly, coughing, and Russell seized his opportunity, flipping Timmy over and mounting again.

Timmy, having free movement of his arms, saw clear to slap Russell across the face, to which Russell leaned in and placed his tongue firmly in Timmy's mouth. Their tongues fought as Timmy's hands found better use against Russell's hips, and finally worked their way towards his belt line.

Russell, anticipating where Timmy was headed, crawled his way down the younger man's body. The power struggle continued; he would beat him to the punch. He maneuvered Timmy's belt quickly, zipper down, cock out, gripped just a little too violently; Timmy's toes curled and his head hit the ground painfully. Both men exposed now to the oncoming rain, Russell let loose Timmy's throbbing member; a display of torture, he had him right where he wanted him. Timmy lifted his head, attempting to find Russell through the rain.

Timmy panted, trying to grasp at some remaining shred of sanity. Perhaps they were taking this too far, dear god, this was insane...perhaps he should put a stop to this.

"Russell...?"

A moment later Russell's mouth had surrounded Timmy's cock, and he lurched almost violently. A crash of thunder could be heard in the distance as Russell rocked steadily against Timmy, whose breath came hard and labored. Timmy turned his head to the side to avoid the sensation of drowning, and took a deep breath, allowing then a long, hard moan to escape his lips.

----------

"So, how about the grand tour?" Adam stood, looking around the empty barn that had served as Jen and Timmy's home for a day. Jen stood to meet him, peering around aimlessly.

"Sure, okay. Uhm..." Jen took her best model pose. "Well, there are four walls, as you can see, the latest in modern home technology. And above us -- gasp! -- a ceiling!" She pointed to the small spot where she and Timmy had spent the majority of their time, dropping the model act. "Here's where I played a thousand games of cards and went totally stir crazy."

"Well, at least you had company."

"Yeah, I guess, but would it kill the guy to pack some real food? I've eaten nothing but granola since we got here."

"You like granola."

"Not nothing but granola." Jen looked towards the front door of the barn. "Hey, where the heck is Timmy, anyway?"

"Yeah, they've been out there awhile."

"Maybe you should go check on them," Jen urged. "Shouldn't we think about starting back for home pretty soon?"

"Yeah, but maybe we should wait for the weather to let up a little, looks pretty bad."

Jen groaned. "I really don't wanna stay here any longer than we have to...but either way, the guys shouldn't stay outside in the storm, go get them."

"Yeah, okay. I'll go find 'em, gimme a minute."

Jen watched as Adam made a dash for the doors and disappeared into the depth of the storm outside. He came back a minute later, closing the barn door hard behind him.

"What the heck? You couldn't have made it all the way to the car..."

Adam's face was blank, stunned in place, but his voice rose in pitch as he spoke. "Uhm, uh, they're--they're fine, Jen."

"Well, what--"

"They're fine. They're just, uhm...outside. Don't worry about it."

"In the car?"

"No....out...outside."

"What the hell, why would they be outside, it's pouring out there, they need to get in here!" She rushed for the door, not really thinking. Surely she didn't want to expose herself to the growing storm, but she couldn't let Timmy stay out in the rain, she couldn't--

Adam snatched Jen by the arm, tugging her back. "N-no, it's okay, they're a little, uh...they're a little busy..."

"What do you mean, busy?!"

Adam squeaked nervously, shrugged, finally allowing his face to contort awkwardly as he searched for the correct words to convey what he had just witnessed. "Y'know...busy."

Jen's jaw dropped. "Oh...oh, my god! You mean, they're.....did they see you?"

"They were a little busy, Jen! Timmy was on the ground and Russell was kind of--"

"OH MY GOD, DON'T TELL ME! Oh, my god!"

----------

Russell found it difficult to breathe, rain pouring steadily over him, Timmy's cock planted firmly in his mouth. But he was stubborn; he wasn't letting up.

Their reunion had led to something strange...relief at being reunited combined with pent up aggression left unresolved. And now had come the struggle for dominance, animalistic and hungry. To the victor would go the spoils, and in this case the spoils were sexual control.

So Russell braved the rain against his head as he swallowed Timmy's cock, seeking the bitter heat he'd grown so accustomed to, craving it, driving Timmy closer and closer to the edge...he was in control, he would make him come.

Timmy had different ideas.

A moment ago, he'd been reluctant, he'd had a moment of clarity and was about to make a sensible decision. Now, he was lost again, Russell having an uncanny knack for pulling him into the dark, lust-filled corners of his brain. But as satisfying as this was, Russell's lips enveloped around him, the familiar sensation of his tongue lashing out so expertly, he couldn't let Russell have the upper hand -- he found the fortitude to extend his legs outward against Russell's chest, kicking him away, knocking the older man to the ground with a thud and an agitated grunt.

Timmy crawled quickly to Russell, yelling over the rain. "Are you all right?"

Russell rubbed his head where he'd hit the ground. "Fuck -- yeah, I'm--"

Timmy shut him up, mouth on mouth, tongue cemented gracelessly down his throat. Russell tried to mumble words, but Timmy wasn't budging, and finally Russell gave up; he allowed Timmy the temporary victory.

Russell moaned in pleasure, head growing fuzzy. He was losing it, he was forgetting where he was. He'd wanted Timmy so desperately these last few days, and here he was, attacking -- wanting him back. Let him have you...ohhh, god, let him take you.

Timmy sensed Russell's submission and allowed his hands to travel the length of his body, settling on the distinctive bulge in the front of his pants. Mindlessly, Russell led his own hand atop Timmy's now, pressing down, urging him to get to work. Timmy obliged, quickly undoing Russell's pants just enough to find him erect and waiting for him.

Finally Timmy broke his mouth from Russell's, deadlocking their eyes as he began stroking Russell's cock, and in kind, he felt fingers slide gracefully back around his own erection.

Timmy offered a soft, sly smile, which Russell returned. Gone was the violent intensity of the past few minutes, gone was the game of one-upsmanship. The men found themselves exchanging a light, loving laugh as Timmy collapsed to Russell's side. Their hands continued their movements against one another's cocks, and slowly, the laughter changed to soft, light breaths, intensifying with each stroke of a hand, fingers sliding slick with rainwater as their heads turned to one another, lips meeting again.

No more hostility. The rain felt heavy against both of their skin, chilling them, but they felt an undeniable warmth now in this mutual exchange, lips brushing softly, tasting one another with no more sense of hurry or desperation; despite the intensity of the growing storm surrounding them, they felt serenity in this moment. Hands working diligently, their only goal to please one another, to feel the other quake at their touch...whenever one would jerk in pleasure, the other would jerk as well...they got off on that. The control, the scales once tilted, were now finding balance. This power so often used in years past to hurt one another, they'd now found themselves transforming into something...different. I can make you feel good. You want me, you know you do...

Russell had wanted nothing more than for Timmy to want him, and in times like this, feeling Timmy's body surrendered so fully to his touch, he knew. Timmy's fingers so carefully stroking each inch of his cock, gripping harder now as they both neared the edge of orgasm, unable to contain his pleasure under Russell's touch, he knew Timmy wanted him. Timmy truly, undeniably wanted him.

Timmy moaned against Russell's lips, his hand breaking free from his task as the strength of his orgasm overtook him; with a heavy groan he lunged his head forward against Russell's chest and threw an arm about him, cementing the men together as his body shook. Russell jerked Timmy's cock dry as he laid soft, gentle kisses against the top of his head, waiting for him to come down, convulsions slowly waning, until finally Timmy's body relaxed, sinking down with a sigh.

After some time Timmy looked back slowly to Russell's face, and was met with a warm kiss. Loving, sincere. At this, Timmy's hand reached back for Russell's cock, but he was stopped short, a hand to his wrist.

Shaking, silent, Russell led Timmy to his feet. For a moment their foreheads rested together, breaths shallow. The rain encircled them as they held one another. They felt safe together, and Russell placed a hand to Timmy's cheek.

Then, everything changed. There was a hunger in Russell's eyes; intense. Desirous. Timmy saw the shift, and with little time to process, he had been snatched firmly by the arm, and he found himself being dragged back in the direction of the car.

"Russ-- Russell, what are you doing, what--"

Russell slammed Timmy face first against the side of the car and Timmy grunted in pain, metal pressing firm against his cheek. Russell leaned down, teeth grazing Timmy's ear, biting softly, wantonly; his breath was hot, his intentions clear. Timmy understood; the shift in tone had shaken him, but he understood, and for a moment he considered fighting for the upper hand again. But as Russell's hands pressed their way down his hips, his head grew blurry. He couldn't do this any longer. He tilted his head to the side, allowing Russell's mouth to travel down the length of his neck, and Russell growled in satisfaction as he felt Timmy's body relax fully in submission.

Timmy spoke through labored breath. "This...is insane..." A meaningless declaration, a grasping at straws. A reminder that he still had an ounce of sense, that he was a man of reason. He wasn't about to put a stop to it.

Russell's hands had made their way underneath Timmy's shirt and were busy traveling their way up his sides, landing firmly on his chest and pulling him back hard against him. Timmy's head turned deftly, their mouths meeting as Timmy found clear to work down his own pants. Russell let go of Timmy, sending him back against the car with a thud as he gripped his hips firmly and pressed his lips against his ear.

"Fuck, I missed you..."

Russell's hand traveled swiftly downward, finding his target area, inserting a finger roughly, leading Timmy to lash against the side of the car with a grunt.

Timmy flailed an arm backwards with very specific aim; Russell followed Timmy's hand towards his own pocket. They'd done this enough times to know precisely how this would go, and Russell pulled out the miniature bottle of lube, Timmy relaxing back down in preparation.

The next thing Timmy felt was the cold of Russell's freshly lubricated fingers, inching their way towards their point of entry. Slowly circling his asshole, dipping in fingertips, Russell was pleased as Timmy flinched under his touch.

No time wasted, moments later came the head of Russell's cock, slipping between Timmy's ass cheeks and entering with no hesitation -- he went slowly at first, listening for Timmy's familiar slow, soft murmur of a groan beneath the drone of the rain.

Instead, Timmy banged a hand firm against the side of the car, imploring, "Do it," and with this Russell thrust forcefully within him the rest of his cock, prompting Timmy to jerk and grasp futilely against the sleek metal in front of him.

Tonight was not a night for slow build ups; Russell simply had to take him now, and so he did, pumping fervently, driving Timmy against cold hard steel with every thrust. Timmy closed his eyes, lost in the depth of his submission; he would give as good as he was getting, later. Right now, he was utterly inebriated on the absurdity of the situation, Russell's body pressed hard against his, cock lunging deep within him. Somehow, Timmy savored Russell's desperation, and he found himself concentrating now on every minute detail of the man so focused on making hard, frenzied love to him...the heat of his breath, the friction of his beard against his neck, the slow, steady string of grunts intensifying from the back of his throat the closer he edged towards release.

Russell's hands gripped tight against Timmy's waist, tighter, tighter as his pounding grew erratic, and then faster, faster, faster...he was close. Ah, fuck, he was close, a high pitched cry escaping his lips, conveying his overwhelming satisfaction, his indescribable bliss as he melted into Timmy, arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him close. And then came the static shock, rising quick and shooting through like lightning. Timmy felt Russell tense around him and within him, heard the roar against his ear. The intense throbbing of Russell's cock was quickly accompanied by firm teeth against Timmy's neck, and Timmy thrust his head back with a groan as Russell's orgasm played itself out, his body sinking back finally against Timmy's, pushing him back gently against the car.

Russell's breathing came about sporadic. He stayed pressed against Timmy for awhile, both of them lost in one another. Gradually they felt the rain soak into them, washing them back into the outside world, and they heard the gentle rumbling of thunder, alerting them to the raging storm around them, the chaos of their personal storm having been succumbed to and satisfied.

"Fuck...holy shit..." Now that he'd been sexually released, Russell was slowly coming to his senses. This was crazy. He pulled himself lightly from Timmy, hands shaking as he reluctantly released him from his grasp. "Are you...are you okay?"

Timmy took a deep breath. He took the time to fix his pants, then turned around, facing Russell, peering at him through the rain. Russell was standing there...just standing there, staring at him like a lost boy in the darkness, confused and ridiculous. After all they had just done, he still appeared somehow vulnerable and desperately in need of him. Timmy reached out, gripping Russell by the collar, and pulled him back to him, kissing him gently before wrapping his arms tight around his neck.

"You insipid fool. I love you."

Russell closed his eyes, returning the embrace. "I love you, Tim. I love you so fucking much."

----------

The men sat in stark silence in the back seat of the car, as far apart as they could sit. The mood had changed as soon as they had entered the car, as if a switch had been pulled reminding them of what had started the madness outside in the first place. So they'd diverted; Timmy had done his best to dry off his glasses on the fabric seat covers, Russell had tried to wring out his hair a bit to no avail. But still, the air was awkward, tense. In both of their minds they wished one of them would move closer...after what they had just done, everything about this situation called for intimacy. Why were they so far apart? They wouldn't even look at one another.

The rain outside the car enveloped them. They felt encapsulated; they had almost preferred being out in the rain to being trapped in a tin box, but they were still being stubborn and refused to seek adequate shelter. They still needed time alone together; this was their refuge away from the world.

Russell stared out the window, into the falling darkness. He tried to will himself to turn his head and look at Timmy; all he needed was a sign.

As if on cue, Timmy's voice broke the silence, cutting through the trembling echo of the rain against the car: "It was the little things."

Russell turned his head slowly, deliberately. "What do you mean, little things?"

"In the interview, we were asked a question about wanting to be married for the right reasons. It's taken me some time, but...the rings...the little elephant...your attempts to comfort me, to take care of me, even when you're not very good at it." Timmy laughed softly with a shake of his head. "If only I'd known such a man resided within you all these years."

"...Not sure he did."

"Well, I have him now. And then...what you said to me outside just now, before we lost our minds, how you were scared that you'd lost me. And good heavens, how miserably we behaved upon finding one another." He let out a quivering breath. "I'm so sorry. You've been making a very real effort and for the longest time I was stuck. But it's all these little things, you see, that made me realize I truly do want to be married to you."

Timmy looked at Russell with great intent. He looked at every crease of his face, every tired, saddened line that had yearned so desperately for him in his brief unexplained absence.

Their lovemaking mere moments ago had seemed rushed, careless, but was revealing. If Timmy had learned one thing from his years of witnessing Russell's pursuit of women, chronicling his sexual exploits, it was that Russell was indeed sexually voracious, but terribly selfish. He seldom cared about the women he bedded...he would scream their names, archive them, another notch on his bedpost, but not remember the curves of their bodies, how they smelled, the sounds he would elicit from them if he touched them in just the right spots. No need to memorize these little details, for he'd never see them again, his job was done. It wasn't like that with Timmy, it never had been. Timmy didn't know, but even before the sex, Russell had begun shoving away small details...the way he walked, inflections in his voice, the wrinkle of his nose when he smiled or was irritated, though Russell usually invoked the latter.

Yes, the sex tonight was irrational, but he'd wanted Timmy. He'd wanted to caress him, to smell him, taste him, meld with him. Timmy had watched Russell in a lot of cheap, homemade pornography, but he never felt as if he was taking part in such an endeavor. He was loved; he wasn't another notch on the bedpost.

His eyes bore now into Russell's face, solemn and steady, staring back at him with soft eyes. It was a wonder how soft he could look in these moments. And as if by some force of gravity Timmy found himself moving closer towards Russell, waving a hand gently forward, urging him to separate the space between them. "Please, darling."

Russell had simply needed an invitation. He moved closer to Timmy, pressing against him, head collapsing against his shoulder.

"Timmy..."

"It's all right."

"Don't leave again."

He took to stroking Russell's hair, still drenched from rain. "We have a lot of work to do..."

"No shit?"

"...But it will all be fine."

There were still unanswered questions...confessions to clarify, feelings to mend...

Russell had that nagging feeling that he should speak, purge himself of anything he could in this moment, while Timmy still loved him at his peak. "Hey, Tim...about those chicks I tried to hook up with, y'know, when we first got together, I--"

"Not now."

Russell ran a hand slowly against Timmy's leg; he allowed his fingers to press firmly, reassuringly into his thigh. "Yeah, but you should know what I--"

"Yes, and we know what I did. Not now, Russell." Timmy pulled him closer, and Russell closed his eyes with a gentle breath. "Not now."

For a time they cherished this moment, peaceful, calm, listening only to the sounds of the oncoming rain and the soft lull of one another's breaths.

And then, Timmy spoke: "I can't believe we just did all of that, we couldn't have at least waited until we were home? Look at us, we're a mess, my god...what on earth have you done to me?"

Russell's lips curled devilishly. "Yeah, well. You're welcome."

Chapter 15: Therapy

Adam and Jen stood in the back of the barn, waiting impatiently.

"They have to come in at some point," said Adam finally. "Just pretend like we don't know they were...y'know."

"How are we supposed to do that, exactly?" asked Jen. "Hey, guys, decide to take a nice little stroll through the rain and roll around on the ground for kicks and giggles?"

At this, the barn doors opened slowly. Timmy peeked in...slowly. He coughed, walking in, Russell following behind. They kept their faces to the ground. Illuminated by the scant light of the barn, Timmy's makeshift flashlight luminescence, their appearance instantly gave them away. Both men were soaked from head to toe and covered with dirt from having...'rolled around' on the ground for an extended period of time.

Adam was the first to stupidly attempt conversation. "You guys okay?"

"Yes," offered Timmy softly. "Yes, uhm...quite...quite all right." He was crouched in front of his bag, rummaging through its contents. He pulled out the change of clothes he'd packed, a simple pair of sweats and long sleeved shirt, a seemingly ridiculous procural at the time, now a godsend.

"Russell?" Timmy stood, holding out the clothes in offering. "I know we don't wear precisely the same size, but please, you take these. I can make do."

Russell shook his head. "Don't be an idiot, it's my fault we're in this mess, you put those on."

"Yes, but I--"

Russell leaned in, kissing Timmy gently. "Do what I tell ya, okay?"

Jen and Adam, still watching, grew a bit less awkwardly disturbed, a bit more intrigued at the scene playing out before them.

Timmy offered Russell a warm smile. "Yes, well, I suppose...but, uhm, where am I to..." He looked to Jen and Adam, and, finding them staring very much in his direction, looked away uncomfortably. "There's not much privacy around here."

Russell stood himself in front of Timmy, shielding him as best he could, and motioned towards Jen and Adam, waving his hand in a circular motion, urging them to turn around.

Jen coughed, turning to face the wall of the barn. "We're not watching, promise..." She realized after some time that Adam hadn't gotten the memo, and grabbed his arm, prompting him to divert his gaze as Timmy set about changing.

Russell spoke over his shoulder. "You got anything for pain? Back is killing me..."

Having heard the comment, Adam suppressed a chortle, Jen scolding him with a hand against his mouth. "Don't you dare..."

When Timmy had finished dressing, he called out, "All clear." He reached for his bag, securing a bottle of pills; he made eye contact with Russell as he handed them off, a slight look of satisfaction overcoming him. "Hm...for the backache."

Russell clicked his tongue, snatching the pills forcefully from Timmy's hand. "Mm...worth it..."

The men looked slowly towards Jen and Adam, who, having turned back around, had returned to glaring at the men. There came over the group a general clearing of throats and looking aimlessly about in an effort to disregard the tension of the situation.

Finally, Jen marched her way towards Timmy, taking him by the arm and leading him away from the other men. After all they'd been through, she felt a moment together was justified, a bit of confidentiality between the two of them.

She whispered one single, blunt word with a curious smile, nose scrunched questioningly. "Seriously?"

"W-well, I--"

She formed a fist, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. "You're full of surprises, Patel, you know that? Guess this means you guys got things squared away?"

He dodged the question with one of his own. "Did you and Adam...?"

"I think he's even more excited about this whole baby thing than I am." The two shared a smile, satisfied that the world had been righted, at least for this evening. "Hey...thanks, Timmy."

"For what?"

"For everything...I've really needed a friend lately, I've been so stuck in my own head. I think sometimes I just need somebody to call me out on my own bullshit. So...y'know, thanks. And hey, if you ever need somebody to return the favor...I'm your girl, okay?"

Timmy placed a hand to Jen's shoulder. "You've got yourself a deal."

----------

The couples had resigned to separate sides of the barn. What they had intended as several minutes of rest before the drive home had turned into several hours of sleep, all four of them being dreadfully exhausted from their restless, worried time apart from one another.

Jen had secured herself in Adam's arm, nestled warm against his chest. Russell and Timmy still felt slight apprehension at being quite so intimate in front of others, even people as innocuous as Jen and Adam, and for awhile avoided more than simply holding hands, but with morning light Timmy awoke to find Russell sprawled comfortably against him, an arm strewn across his chest, their legs comfortably intermingling. Though Russell had taken to drying out, he was still wet and the rainwater had seeped back through again to Timmy, rendering his dry clothes damp again. Timmy didn't mind. He leaned over now, kissing Russell gently awake.

Russell murmured, eyes still closed, half asleep. "Mm. Five more minutes."

"Afraid not."

"Yessss." Russell reached for a blanket that didn't exist, grousing as he opened an eye. "Oh..."

"We've just spent the night in a barn."

"Ohhh...yeah..."

"If you let me drive you home, you can spend the entire day in a real bed."

Russell opened the other eye. "Is thaaat...an offer?"

Timmy scoffed, appearing frustrated by Russell's early morning proposition. "Really? Is that all you can think about?" Russell turned his face down a bit. "...Yes. Yes, it is an offer." The men laughed softly with one another, a relaxed laugh laced with just a touch of sexuality, and they felt deliciously close.

On the other side of the building, Adam was nudging Jen awake. She smiled up at him, fluttering her eyes sweetly. They both felt as if the world had changed today with the magnitude of their decision. Nothing had changed...the world was all still the same. Nobody else knew that anything was different...but they knew.

"Hey, mommy." Adam's voice was sweet and syrupy as he sat up, looking over Jen as if a work of art. She was beautiful...she only got more beautiful, how was that even possible?

"Hey, daddy." Jen's smile dropped. "Yeah, until we actually have a kid, that sounds kind of creepy, maybe we shouldn't do that."

Back on the other side, Russell was still resisting getting up, having much more fun playfully teasing Timmy. "I'll get up if you get up."

Timmy ran a finger slowly down the length of Russell's face, from his forehead to his lips. "Mm...no, you."

Russell giggled stupidly. "No, you!"

And suddenly, there was a foreign voice. Neither Adam nor Jen, but a low, female voice, hovering just above Russell's head...and he felt cold metal brush his neck.

"Time to get up, sunshine."

The men's heads both spun quickly to find the voice, a large, commanding figure of a woman looming over them. They shot to their feet, gasping, feet dancing stupidly as they tried to decipher the situation in front of them. She held a shotgun in their direction, and every step they took back, she took one towards them.

Russell took to sputtering stupidly in Timmy's direction, grasping at his arm, gesturing to the woman. Do something! This is the kind of crap he hired him for, this was clearly not part of Russell's job!! Wait...no, married. Married him for.

Jen and Adam had stood to their feet, but planted themselves firmly where they were. Adam whispered in Jen's ear. "If she starts shooting, I know Kung Fu."

"You don't know Kung Fu!"

"I took a class."

"You watched Kung Fu Panda."

Timmy put up his hands slowly in front of the woman, a sign of submission. "Uhm...is this, perhaps...perhaps your barn?"

"Good guess, four-eyes. The hell are you four doin' here?"

"We...we were lost, you see, me and my friend, and then my hu--" Irrationally angry person with gun to face, he wasn't ready to take the risk. "My friend here came to get us, you see, but then the storm hit so we...we sort of fell asleep, we were just about to head for home, I promise we've caused no damage to your property and--"

The woman dropped her shotgun to her side. "Is that all?"

Timmy nodded quickly, attempting a friendly smile. "Yes."

The woman's demeanor shifted completely now. She transformed all at once from backwoods killer to Santa Claus and extended a hand out towards Timmy, patting him firmly on the back.

"Well, darn it, I'm sorry for puttin' the fear of God into y'all! I've had so many punk kids and hobos up in these parts, you wouldn't believe. It's a wonder this place hasn't been burnt to the ground by those hooligans."

"Why yes, it certainly still looks lovely for...for a barn," said Timmy.

Adam and Jen had made their way towards the group, and the woman shook their hands in a friendly, glad-to-meetcha manner.

"If you don't mind me asking," Jen queried, "why do you have a barn in the middle of nowhere? I mean, there's no farmhouse, no fields..."

"Oh, well, shoot," she said. "It's all for show. I hire this place out for events. Parties, photo shoots. Weddings, mostly."

Jen shot Timmy a defeated look. Weddings? This freaking place was used for weddings?

Timmy walked towards Jen, a smirk forming slowly across his face; Jen found the situation less than amusing.

"I'm sorry, Jennifer, but the irony of the situation--"

"Shut up, Timmy."

"Yes, but you must admit--"

"Shut up, Timmy."

He laughed gently. "I mean, we come looking for a wedding venue, and we end up trapped in--"

"Shut. Up. Timmy."

Adam addressed the woman. "Y'know, we're planning a wedding right now, and--"

In unison Jen and Timmy spoke an adamant: "No!"

"Well," said the woman. "Lemme know if you change your mind." She addressed Timmy. "You boys, too." She scoffed, looking back at Russell. "Friend, my foot. Y'know I've got this place rigged with a whole buncha security cameras. High tech stuff, hidden flush in the walls, tiiiiny cameras, amazing stuff!" She wove a finger back in Timmy's direction. "He's your fella. Don't gotta lie to me."

"Oh, well then..." Timmy walked the short distance back to Russell. "If we ever decide to renew our vows surrounded by barn animals, I suppose we'll know who to call."

"Mm, yeah, sorry, this place is great and all, but...not doing that," said Russell. "I had a little run-in with a goat once."

Timmy gave Russell a shake of his head and a curious look.

"Goats are scary!"

And so the couples set about returning home, breathing heavy sighs of relief that the madness of the last couple days could be placed behind them.

Adam took the woman's business card.

----------

The air had settled in the week since the barn incident.

Adam and Jen were annoying everybody with constant talk of babies...most of all Audrey, who was busy enough with a baby of her own and one on the way. Jen thought that meant she would be all about baby talk! Audrey assured her that meant the exact opposite, but she was Jen's guiding light into the world of all things baby, so she was putting up with it. Jeff was less patient with Adam. His time out of the house alone, beer planted firmly in hand, was a baby free zone. Adam's objections were met with decrees of "No -- baby free zone."

Russell and Timmy found themselves free of overwhelming burden for a few days, placing all dramatics on the back burner in favor of reconciliation. For them, this meant largely ignoring the problems, focusing instead on what was good about their relationship. Timmy's home-cooked meals, Russell's back rubs, sarcastic insults followed up by gentle smiles. Life was back to business as usual, if not for a bit of unwelcome tension still dangling in the air, but this had become a familiar presence for them and they did their best to overlook it.

And so there came a rare day, everyone crowded together in the diner...Adam, Jen, and Timmy squished into one side, Audrey, Jeff, and Russell squished into the other, with the addition of a baby sleeping peacefully beside them in a stroller.

"So, no wedding?" questioned Audrey. "Are you officially nixing the wedding?"

"No," said Jen. "Scaling it down, but we're still having it. I figure we've come this far, might as well put on a good show, and like you said, my dress has a lot of layers."

Timmy sighed audibly, and Jen turned towards him. "I get it, you've nagged me enough. But I've sunk too much money into this nightmare, I just want it over with. And it won't hurt to have some real wedding pictures for the scrapbooks..." She smiled wide at Adam. "Memories for the kids!"

Russell spoke up from his seat across from Timmy. "We didn't have a real wedding, you don't see us complaining."

Timmy gave Russell a silent glare.

"What, are we? Are we complaining about this now? Geez, what won't this one complain about? Fine, I'll throw you a wedding, you'll have the most luxurious dress of them all, rhinestones and lace, whatever's in now, tell all your lady friends."

"No, I don't want a wedding. I mean, I didn't envision getting married in such a manner, but please, marry you...in front of other people...? Do you honestly think I'm chomping at the bit to put you on display?"

Jeff lifted his drink. "To the happy couple, so glad we're back to a comfortable level of animosity."

Russell and Timmy allowed the rest of the table to toast this milestone with a resounding cry of "here, here," and they all took a drink.

Jen went back to her previous train of thought. "Anyway, if I get pregnant before the wedding I can let out my dress a little, and like you said, Audrey, layers hide a baby belly, we've thought it all out."

Audrey gave a sly smirk. "Hm. And what about when the nausea hits right as you're walking down the aisle? Or when you're saying 'I do'? I now pronounce you man and-- blegh."

Russell laughed. "Now there's a picture for the scrapbooks! I'll bring the camera!"

"Don't be ridiculous," scolded Timmy. He smiled gently towards Jen at his side. "I'm sure someone will be filming the entire fiasco. And you know, with high definition cameras these days, the vomit will just--"

Jen shoved at Timmy playfully. "You're such a jerk! I should have left you in that barn."

Timmy shoved back at Jen. "No, I should have left you, you little scamp..." And so the two continued to shove at one another, giggling playfully.

Jeff nudged Russell. "Explain. What's happening here?"

Russell shook his head with a sigh. "I don't...I don't know what's going on anymore." Then, a bit louder, "Hey, when's the slumber party start?" He clapped his hands excitedly. "Am I invited?!"

Jen rolled her eyes. "Whatever. This coming from the long lost Olsen triplet."

Timmy curtailed a laugh as Russell glared in his direction.

"Hm," Russell sipped his drink with a shrug. "Precocious TV icons turned upscale fashionistas? You got it, dude."

"Anyway," Jen continued. "I'm out. Adam and I have dinner reservations tonight." She exchanged a subtle, secretive smile with Adam before looking to Audrey. "Aud, you busy? I thought I'd go check out that new shop downtown, find something nice to wear tonight."

"Something sexy," amended Adam with a slight snigger.

Audrey turned to Jeff, who shrugged. "Yeah, whatever," he said. "Who keeps the kid?"

"Oh!" Adam shot up a hand. "You gals go shopping. We'll keep her."

Jeff shook his head at Adam. "Who asked you? You don't get a say in this..."

"Oh, c'mon, it'll be fun! I need the practice." He leaned forward, whispering in Jeff's direction as though the rest of the table couldn't hear his every word. "We're gonna make a baby tonight!"

The women chose to ignore the men with sighs and gentle eye rolls.

"Sure, why not?" said Audrey. "I barely get out of the apartment these days, I could definitely use it. Can't do much clothes shopping with the..." she gestured to her growing baby belly, "but sure, I'll help you find something nice for dinner."

And so it was that Audrey and Jen left their places in the booth, followed shortly by Jeff and Adam, wheeling Shea away as Adam clapped giddy with excitement.

"I'm gonna be a great daddy," he said as they exited the diner. "I'm developing mad dad skills, yo! I've been reading all the baby books, did you know that the dad can share pregnancy symptoms? So when Jen gets pregnant, if I crave a lot of weird food and cry a lot that'll be totally normal--"

"Uh-huh..."

"And I've been practicing putting diapers on a teddy bear, and--"

With the rest of the group gone, Russell found himself focused on the soda in front of him, sipping it slowly until he hit ice. He clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "I should order pie. Do you want pie? I think I want pie."

"Not really," said Timmy. "Uhm...now that we're alone--"

"Yeah, I'm thinking pie."

"I did have something I wanted to discuss."

"Is this a pre- or post-pie conversation?"

"Pre-pie."

Russell moaned in annoyance. "Fine."

"I have my appointment with Linda, shortly."

Russell nodded slowly as if he had the foggiest notion of what Timmy was talking about; his face proved otherwise, a visual representation of his brain racing -- Liiin...daaaa...

"My therapist."

"You see a therapist? When the heck did you start seeing a therapist?"

"Five years ago. After I started working for you. I've seen her nearly once a week for the last five years. I also see a psychiatrist once a month who gives me medication for anxiety, which allows me to deal with you on a day to day basis."

Russell was slipping into that blank stare that occurred whenever the hamster at the wheel inside his brain fell asleep.

"Yes, well, at any rate...I know this is short notice, but last week my therapist and I had a bit of a discussion, and what with everything having been rather crazy from the fallout I neglected to bring it up any earlier I'm afraid, but uhm...how would you perhaps like to..." Timmy was growing visibly nervous. "Nevermind, stupid idea."

"What? Like to what?"

"We had discussed having you sit in on a session. Perhaps today, if you'd like."

"Ugh, therapy?" Russell watched Timmy physically retreat with a dismissive nod, his body language telling, and Russell's brain hamster went back to work on a primitive level. This was important...jump on important thing...make Timmy happy...do the thing. "Yeah, okay, I'll go."

Timmy looked to Russell in shock. "Wh-what? You're serious, you'll do it?"

"Eh, whatever. Little head shrinkage. How bad can it be?"

----------

Russell remembered why he didn't like therapists. He hadn't been to one in years...he'd tried during his college years, once he was out on his own (figuratively speaking) but as soon as he'd realized he would be required to feel feelings and do things to work on those feelings, he was out, baby. He wasn't there to fix himself, damn it, that's what he was paying somebody else to do!

The room was quaint enough, she supplied the stereotypical sofa and chair. Russell had laid immediately down, Timmy had ordered him to sit back up, they'd had a brief talk about therapy etiquette and how he was not to speak unless spoken to. This was all in front of the therapist -- she'd scribbled some notes.

She was a thin woman, middle aged, dark blonde hair, with not a touch of pretension about her. She gave off a casual vibe that allowed the room to relax, and in turn allowed Russell to behave perhaps a touch more obnoxious than he even would around somebody of a more uptight incline, much to Timmy's chagrin.

"So, you're the famous Russell. I've sure heard a lot about you."

Russell started in with the charm; he laughed, patted a stoic Timmy on the leg. "All good, I hope!"

"No," said the woman with a smile, tapping her notepad. "Up until recently, didn't really lean that way."

Russell was very put out. "Weeell...I see how it is. I certainly do."

She leaned her chin on a hand, looking him over curiously. "I have to say, you're pretty much exactly as I imagined. A little less oily looking, but right there on the snark. You should have seen my face the day Timmy walked in here and told me the two of you were married, I checked the calendar, thought it was April 1st."

"I did frighten you," said Timmy with a smirk. "I don't think I could have said anything more shocking."

"After all we've been through in these sessions?"

Timmy and Linda took to laughing, and Russell looked to both of them, offended by whatever the secret joke was...it was clearly about him. "Hey, hold up, what the heck have you been telling her about me?"

Timmy thought a moment. "Uhm...the last five years or the last three months?"

"The last--" Russell groused. "That's it, I'm laying down. Am I paying for these sessions?"

"Well, sort of...technically, as my former employer, you always have, I suppose..."

"Then I can do whatever I want!"

Timmy looked to Linda, who shrugged. And so Russell plunked himself flat on the sofa, feet in Timmy's lap. Timmy looked to his therapist in apology, but she merely smiled back acceptingly. She was getting a feel for how this relationship worked, it was all coming together.

"So Timmy, any major updates this week, or should we focus on..." Linda motioned toward all of Russell.

"Things have sort of settled down this week. I still haven't heard anything from my parents at all, but Simran did call and--"

"When was this?" asked Russell.

"This morning, she said she's trying to speak with them. I'd hate to think that they're giving her the silent treatment as well, that I'd alienated us both." Without much thought Timmy had placed his hands on Russell's legs where they laid atop his lap, taking to straightening out Russell's pant legs nervously before leaving his hands to rest.

"Well, Simran isn't alienating you," said Linda. "That's important, and we talked about not blaming yourself for any of this. What did we say a few weeks ago? What was our mantra that week?"

"...All I did was fall in love."

"That's right, all you did was fall in love."

Russell didn't have any words, no snarky retorts for this. Timmy's face had turned down, contemplative and a little sad. His hand had gripped a little tighter at Russell's leg, the words being about him. Russell felt funny, somewhere deep inside his gut. He flipped his legs off of Timmy, sitting up straight. They met eyes and Russell shrugged.

"Sorry." He wasn't quite sure what he was sorry for, but Timmy touched his arm softly as if the apology had been needed and was gratefully accepted.

Linda took advantage of Russell's sudden bout of dedication. "So Russell, are you just here to observe, or can we get some insight from you on a few things?"

Russell looked to the woman, his eyes growing in mild dread. "Uh...like what?"

"Well, a lot's been going on between the two of you, and I get Timmy in here every week, I mean, I only get one side of the story, I bet you'd really like to clear your good name."

She was good at this, the sarcastic banter...he leaned forward, trying to piece her together. "Hm. Well, I bet you've got a bunch of that patient/shrink confidentiality stuff, huh? Can't give me any of the low-down on what he's been spewing about me?"

"Afraid you'd have to torture him for it."

Russell looked back at Timmy with a raised brow, and Timmy resisted the innuendo. "No. And also no...use your imagination. In both cases."

Russell turned back with a grumble. "Well, not that much has been happening, has it?"

Timmy spoke flatly: "In the last few months we got married in order to keep me in the country...which is nearly finalized but still in process by the by, were you aware of that?"

"I know you still stick stuff under my face to pretend to read sometimes."

"Yes, that's what that would be. A supposed daughter you didn't know you had showed up out of the blue, DNA results are imminent. I've come out to my parents, something you have yet to do..." Timmy gestured from Linda to Russell, as if this was a point of contention and she ought to do something about it. "And oh yes, last week we nearly broke up but somehow didn't because I was trapped overnight in a barn."

Russell had been looking to his hand, counting on his fingers as Timmy mentioned major events. "Is that all?"

"Isn't that enough?!" huffed Timmy.

Linda stepped in. "So Russell, let's break some of this down. About last week...Timmy figured he was unaccounted for for maybe, oh, 14 hours? Could have been longer, but you were both pretty freaked out as it was."

"Yeah," said Russell. "We all were, I guess it's just we haven't been apart that long since we got married, and he won't let me put the tracking chip back in him, so..."

"We're not doing that," moaned Timmy. "He wants to get matching chips so I won't get lost again."

"Like couples' tattoos, what's the big deal! Except even better than tattoos because these would be inside us."

"No!"

Linda poised further intervention. "Okay, okay -- so no go on knowing each others' every single move, huh? Maybe that's crossing a bit of a line? I remember the tracking chip, as I recall, that's what broke the two of you up in the first place? That was a hell of a few sessions, and we all know where the next few weeks went. I think even joking about this is probably rocky territory."

The men both looked away, choosing to move past this particular time capsule and the ridiculous topic of the tracking chip.

Linda scribbled a few notes and then observed the men, stuck in an awkward silence. She had a hat full of issues to choose from. Which one, which one?

"Well, Timmy mentioned something about your parents, Russell. How about that?"

Russell grimaced. "Yeeeeah, no...how about not, I don't--"

"I'd like to talk about it," interjected Timmy assuredly. As if he'd planned to come down this path all along, anticipating this string of conversation.

"Well, this is up to Russell, we didn't bring him in this room to gang up on him...but Timmy, is there anymore you'd like to say about this? And Russell, you don't have to respond if you don't feel like it. Totally up to you, hey, you're an observer in this room."

Timmy did his usual reading of Russell before continuing, a prerequisite he'd allowed the last few months where once before the two of them would have had little trouble speaking without considering one another's feelings. Russell was hard to read, now...he seemed to be growing tense as he allowed his mental blocks to stack brick by brick, the way he generally did upon mention of his parents, and so Timmy continued cautiously.

"You see, it's just that I've addressed this situation with my family, in a very surface manner but no doubt it's opened up a can of worms, and this is something I'm forced to live with now...and...and I believe we have to start living authentically. He's spent so much time living behind masks, he mustn't do this anymore."

"It's different with my folks," offered Russell softly.

"How? You're not a child anymore, Russell, you can't keep doing this."

No therapist chiming in this time; they seemed to be doing a pretty good job on their own.

Russell jiggled his legs nervously. He had something to say, but he was resisting saying it in this setting...

Timmy sighed. "It's as if you're trying to shove telling your parents about us completely out of your mind...you're not going to do it unless the issue is forced upon you, and I'm afraid by then it will be a mess, and--"

"I'm thinking about it a lot, okay?!" Russell looked to Timmy, his face now panged with frustration. He looked to Linda, leaning forward, speaking earnestly. "Is this an issue for him? Like, does he talk about this a lot, me not telling my folks?"

"I can't tell you that, you'd have to ask Ti--"

"I need to know!!"

Timmy chimed up softly. "Yes." The men met eyes again. "Yes, I bring it up...on occasion."

Russell groaned through a sigh. "Okay, fine. We're all...mildly acquainted here, whatever. I think about this, I think about it all the time, and the only thing me and my dad have really ever bonded over is chicks. Does this guy look like a chick?" He hoisted a thumb towards Timmy.

"Not an especially attractive one," said Linda with a shrug. "No offense, Timmy."

"None taken, I'm a hideous woman," said Timmy. "Russell, I know all of that, but--"

Russell continued unphased. "And I mean, we don't really have anything else. I've tried, he won't listen, he doesn't know I'm alive. Movies...hey, kid, did you see this chick I'm plowing? And it wasn't my mom, by the way. Baseball...hey, how about that chick in the bleachers with the great tits? And I was like...nine! I mean, I wasn't complaining, she had great tits, but this was all we did together, and we only hung out when corporate hotshots were around and he needed a prop..." He let out an aggravated grunt through his teeth. "So he gave me this job in his company and just kind of left me there, to make a good impression, like 'look at me, I'm a real family man, my son's in the company!', ya know? He's the most self-righteous, quasi-conservative piece of work you could ever meet, and if I tell him I'm sacking up with Tim, if we aren't playing the one-up game with women, I think...I think that might be it, he won't want me there anymore, I could be out of a job, I could be out of the family."

Timmy was staring into Russell, breath catching. He had been prepared for more frustration; he hadn't expected such a confession. "Would he really care so much? I mean, he seems so disengaged with you, perhaps--"

"Yeah, I think he would, dude...I'm already a blight on his life, you think he wants a gay son for his little company figurehead? And mom cut off my trust fund ages ago, and I don't know how to do anything else, I wouldn't know what to do with myself, and you don't have a job right now which is totally my fault and so my dad can't know, because then we'd be living on the street in a cardboard box and I need to support my family, I have a family now...well, I mean, it's just you and me, but that's kind of a family, right?"

Timmy landed a hand softly against Russell's leg. "Yes. Yes, of course."

Linda found it time to lend her voice to the conversation. "Your dad sounds like a helluva guy, Russell."

Russell chortled. "Yeah, well..."

"What about your mother? She cut off your trust fund?"

"That was Timmy's fault."

Timmy sighed softly; not worth the argument.

"But uh, she was trying to help me out I guess...in the stupidest way possible. Had to live in a hovel for awhile."

"My apartment," said Timmy.

"And yeah, I've thought about telling her about this, I mean...whenever I talk to her she asks if we've done it yet. Seriously, I can't tell if she's joking or not. But she loves this kid, like she's really into him." Russell shook his head in Timmy's direction. "After she met you she said that if she were me she'd be all over that, that you were so sweet and charming...I told her I wasn't gay and she said she'd switch teams if she were me. My mom is...I think the Botox went to her brain a little or something, but she's a doll."

"Maybe she just saw it before we did," offered Timmy. "Your mother has a good heart, I quite enjoyed her company. You're both a tad delusional, but it's those layers you put up, it seems a familial trait, you just have to peel back the layers."

"You peeled back my mom's layers?!" Russell was aghast. "Wha--"

"Emotionally! Emotional layers!"

"Well," concluded Linda, "you're reluctant to tell your dad, but it sounds like there's no real harm in telling your mom...so, how about that? Is that something we can work towards for the two of you?"

Russell nodded. "Yeah...yeah, I can, uh...I can do that."

Linda smiled. "That's great, I know that means a lot to Timmy."

Russell and Timmy found one another's hands rather naturally. A nice moment. Hold onto that.

"Well, anything else we should talk about while we have Russell here? I know you guys have had a really tough couple of weeks. Totally up to you guys, but do we even want to touch on any of that? The blow up last week...?"

Both men twisted their faces reluctantly in thought before shaking their heads.

"Well, that's your prerogative, but just keep in mind that this would be a pretty good place to do it."

Timmy dropped Russell's hand, and in exchange gave him a small look of reassurance. Leaning forward, he spoke succinctly, as if he knew precisely what to say. "I kissed a former girlfriend, a one-time occurrence which we've moved past..." He looked to Russell, who turned away with a mild scowl. "And Russell is a reforming man slut who, during the start of our relationship chose to try and sleep with several women behind my back in an attempt to prove he wasn't gay." Timmy clenched his teeth slightly. His tone grew rehearsed, stiff. "I've decided this doesn't bother me, therefor we can move on and never speak of it again."

Russell placed a hand to his mouth, murmuring words lightly.

Timmy turned to him, speaking with a forced jovial tone, knowing full well the statement was far from something to be pleased about. "What was that, Russell? Care to tell the room?"

"Never went through with it. You went through with it."

Timmy leaned back gently, closing his eyes a moment. "I'm sorry, I can't to do this."

"We don't have to do this right now," assured Linda. "But this is clearly a hot button issue for you guys, it's gonna keep coming up, so I would seriously consider--"

"I don't get why it bothers me so much." Russell finally found himself focused fully on the woman in front of him...as if she held all the answers to some weird secret. "Why the heck does this bother me? You're the head shrink, explain this to me!"

Timmy leaned toward Russell in mild disbelief. "Seriously? Serious question? You don't know why my being with someone else would bother you??"

Russell growled, motioned choking the air. He was growing flustered, and his head worked double time in an attempt to formulate a reasonable explanation for what appeared to be an asinine question.

"When I was single I didn't get this relationship stuff. I mean I did, I got that people liked to stick together and they got weird about loyalty and the whole one-person thing, but I never got that, it was like some weird foreign language. So...so that first day we were together and you ran off with that chick, it hurt my brain. That's why I can't let it go, Tim, I'd never felt that way before. Jealous...for the right reasons, because...because I loved somebody..."

"Huh, look at that," said Linda. "Answered your own question."

"What? What did I say?"

"You love each other, that's why it bothers you."

Russell slammed his head back against the couch. "So basically love makes people idiots?!"

"Yes," said Timmy softly. "It made you jealous, which is a natural reaction. It also made us both frightened enough of the prospect of being with another man that we attempted to run to the arms of women to compensate, to somehow prove our masculinity..."

The men looked to one another now, their expressions mellowed, as if something had clicked for both of them.

"I mean, you kept it up for quite awhile longer than I did, but..."

Russell began whispering close to Timmy; he needed to speak now, but not to a therapist. "I never had sex with them. I mean, I got really close. As close as you can get, the train left the station but never went through the tunnel." Lovely.

"Well. Thank...thank you for your honesty, I suppose. I...I still don't know how to feel about--"

"Seriously, I would tell these chicks I was married and they'd either tell me to keep going or smack the shit outta me. I'd slip and say I had a husband and then it would get super weird, I mean...but dude, I couldn't do it. I just wanted to come home, and I wanted you to be there, and then you weren't always there, but...but sometimes you were. I was always really glad when you...when you were."

Linda was busy making mental notes. She'd known Timmy for a long time and had heard a million stories about the man sitting to his side...the one who he was looking at now with a deep sort of devotion, so opposed to the years of animosity and repulsion. She'd seen the gradual progression in his talk of Russell, from miserable employ to friendship to lovers, but witnessing the awkward polarity that was their relationship with her own eyes was something else.

"I'm sorry," said Russell very softly.

Timmy gripped Russell's hand. "So, you'll tell your mother about us?" Their smiles were warm, fingers interwoven lovingly, a visual sign that everything was somehow magically fine between them...at least for now.

Linda, a bit amazed, looked back to her notes, seeking happier topics of discussion. They were an odd couple to be sure, but they fit together despite their differences. Her client seemed happier now than in all the years he'd been seeing her, and for the strangest of reasons: he'd surrendered to his captor.

----------

Jen lifted up a sheer cream negligee in front of Audrey's face.

"I thought we were looking for a dress for dinner," Audrey said, raising a brow. "This is clearly after-dinner material." She shoved down the sexy number in Jen's hand. "Pretty sure you don't have to put so much work into it, hon, he'll want you without all of...this."

"I'm just a little wired up, we haven't had sex in awhile."

Audrey sighed. "Yeah, tell me about it. Being pregnant with a newborn doesn't leave much time for certain activities..."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get back on track."

"If by 'on track' you mean ten minutes of celebratory grinding after a big sports win, then yeah...sure, let's hope for that."

Jen's phone rang and she answered with a smile. "Hi, honey...yeah, sure, I'm finding some nice things. Are you having fun with Shea? She threw up on you?" She addressed Audrey: "He sounds happy about it." Returning to Adam: "Uh-huh? What? You changed a diaper? Good job, honey, I'm proud of you! Okay, I'll see you in awhile. Love you."

She ended the call, looking back to Audrey. "He's so excited! I can't believe I was so scared to tell him I wanted a baby, I feel so dumb now."

"Well, let's hope it happens fast, huh? Nothing like what I had to go through."

Jen's excitement dissipated down as she examined Audrey's face. In all her enthusiasm over becoming pregnant, she'd neglected to take into account how difficult the process had been for Audrey. The baby she was carrying now was as good as a fluke, a miracle after having Brenda act as a surrogate.

"Oh, my gosh. I'm being totally insensitive, I'm so sorry, Audrey..."

"Oh! Oh, no, it's...it's fine. Listen, if you can make this work right off the bat, that's a beautiful thing, Jen. Don't take it for granted, cherish every day you'll have with that little one inside of you." Audrey placed a hand softly to her own growing stomach. "Y'know, I lie awake at night and I know the little guy's in there and sometimes it scares the ever loving crap out of me? My body is growing a life...a life." She huffed out, amazed. "Whoa."

"Little guy...? Do you...do you know...?"

"Oh, no, not yet. I don't think we'll find out this time. Jeff would really like his little boy, so..." Audrey crossed her fingers. "But at this point, he doesn't care. He's dressing Shea up in baseball onesies, he's surrendered to making her into a tomboy. But he's already giving stink eye to little boy babies in the park, so..."

"I think I'd like a little girl. Little dresses, bows, dolls..."

"Yeah, it's fun."

"Yeah."

Jen looked back to the negligee in her hand. "Well...step one," she said, and headed for the cash register.

----------

The new day felt full of possibilities. Russell had been pacing his office floor for the last ten minutes, heart racing in time with the thoughts in his head. He was going to do it, he was going to make the call, he had to do it right now or he might change his mind.

He'd promised Timmy that morning that this was the day! He'd even been excited about the prospect of clearing the air with his mother, perhaps forming a genuine bond with her. He wanted his mommy, and he was giddy now to meet with her approval...after all, she'd wanted this, hadn't she? For him to be with Timmy? But then, maybe it was all in jest, and he was about to take the joke too far.

No. Stop thinking. Just call.

Finally, Russell let out a hefty sigh, letting his finger fall against the screen, placing his phone to his ear before he could second guess his decision. He listened to the ringing, paced his breathing as he continued walking a circle in the floor.

"C'mon, pick up, pick up, pick--"

"Hello?"

"Oh, my god, Mom! Mom, you answered..."

"Rusty! Well, you called! My god, I haven't heard from you in months."

"Yeah, I...I know, Mom, I'm sorry about that. Just been really busy around here, ya know? And some things have been happening, big things, that's kind of why I called, I don't wanna beat around the bush or I'm probably gonna chicken out here."

"Well what on earth's the matter, you sound dreadfully shaken up..."

"Mom. Mom, what if I told you that, uh...that I was married."

"Again? Didn't you divorce the last one, what was her name, uh, Lisa, Olivia...?"

"Liz, Mom, her name was Liz, and uh...and yeah, that didn't fly. No, Mom, I'm married again...for good this time, it's...it's pretty serious. Now listen, Mom, this is gonna sound a little weird, but I thought I should tell you--"

"Well, this is such wonderful timing, I was going to call you! Did you get my message?"

Russell was caught off guard...he had to process what his mother had just said.

"Rusty?"

"Wh-what? What's that?" He was rushing for his desk, rummaging through messages. He'd only recently hired the next in a line of new assistants and could barely be bothered to pay attention to what they were doing...and then he found it.

"Well, yes. I'm coming to town! Didn't you know? I spoke with somebody at your office...whatever happened to Timmy? I really liked him. You know you should really break the tension and--"

"And sleep with him, yeah, yeah, I know, Mom. Uhm-- you're...you're coming to town?"

"Yes, in a few days, you didn't get the message? I called last week."

"I, uh...I've been...distracted. Crazy world of real estate, you know how it is."

"Well, I can meet your new lady friend when I'm in town! We'll go to dinner. Invite Timmy, I do so enjoy his company, he's such a sweetheart."

"Yeah...meet...lady friend...Timmy...Mom, about all that..."

"I'll call when I'm in town. Ta, darling."

The line went dead, and Russell stared at his phone, stunned. Well, that hadn't quite gone according to plan...he walked to his chair, collapsing, silent, nearly forgetting how to breathe. He'd known how to do this over the phone, he'd planned the speech in his head, he'd imagined the lovely conversation with his mom with a wall of thousands of miles protectively between them.

She was coming to town.

Well...shit.

Chapter 16: We Need to Relax

Russell had tried telling his mother about him and Timmy...he really had. It wasn't his fault that she'd spoken over him. Stereotypically his mother, it had always been this way growing up, and yet this time it was a little more important than "I want a pony" or "why do you cry every time you look at me?" He'd really needed her to listen this time.

It had only been a few minutes since she'd ended the call, and Russell was still searching for answers, beginning to fidget restlessly at his desk. Timmy was right, of course, elongating this process wasn't doing either of them any favors. It would seem only natural for Russell to choose the path of blatant avoidance of anything that made him feel a little ick, but for once that hadn't been his downfall. He'd been scared. Stupidly scared and ashamed. Not ashamed of Timmy, not ashamed of his newfound identity...ashamed that he even so much as felt reluctance in telling his parents. He wasn't a young guy, this coming out to the family was young guy stuff, wasn't it? So either fucking tell them or-- or avoid this nonsense altogether and just hope for the best, huh? Huh?

Timmy was the young...er guy. Timmy had made this self-discovery, had come out to parents who still had expectations of him, who had planned on him settling down with some young thing...young female thing, and providing a legacy. Russell's parents? Well, they'd never had much in the way of hopes or expectations, and his fears now emanated only from a place of what? Self preservation, sure. Losing his livelihood. But he was grasping for shreds of affection he hoped existed in some recess of their minds. Timmy had so much more to lose...a real family, genuine love. Russell felt ashamed for all his hesitation, when Timmy had already risked so much.

He needed to talk to somebody. Not Timmy, not stupid Adam, sure as hell not Jeff, he needed...somebody. Slowly he turned to his computer screen...no, he shouldn't. That was stupid. But she knew things, she could help. She had the inside goods on all of this. Yeah. Yeah, call her, do it. Timmy never had to know...

And so, no more than a minute later: "Russell!"

"Heeey, Simran. How's it hangin'?" Casual, charming. Nothing's wrong!

She smiled with a soft, suspicious laugh. "It's hanging. How are you, to what do I owe this pleasure? This is the second time you've called me on your own in about a month's time, are you sure Timmy won't scold you?"

"Pft, he didn't scold me last time, not like we're gonna run away together or anything."

She wove a finger in his direction. "You never know, you might charm the pants right off of me."

Russell ran a hand slowly down his face, gritting his teeth sharply. She was being playful, sarcastic, but try telling his brain and...other parts that. "Yeeeah, you're my sister-in-law now and everything, but I'm still good to go about ninety percent of the time and you're still...beautiful as hell, so."

"Heh, sorry. So, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, sure, I just...can I pick your ol' brain a little? Your brother is a great guy but he gets a little tight lipped about certain things."

"Yes, I know how he can be. And this is precisely why you called me last month, as well...I know you've had an interesting few weeks. You have a daughter? That's exciting!"

"Well, I guess...she's a sweet kid and everything, but--"

"Though I must admit, Timmy was more than a bit taken aback at the idea of being a step-father to a grown woman."

"Trust me, that sort of freaky-deaks me out, too, wasn't exactly part of the plan. Uh, listen, Sim, I hate to jump right into this, but...what's up on the whole parental front, is everything getting all sitch-iated, there? Timmy's getting a little high strung about this whole 'telling the parents' thing, so..."

"Oh. Oh, well." Simran hesitated, and the time it took her to digest Russell's question made him nervous. For awhile they avoided their screens, looking anywhere else, until she had processed a reasonable response. "Russell, you must understand, our parents are...they're very traditional. I've spoken with them. And...they like you, they do."

"Oh...well. Well, that's great!"

"Not so great, I'm afraid."

Russell sank in his chair. He ran a hand through his hair and breathed out slowly.

"But," added Simran quickly, "I believe they're coming around, they've agreed to speak with Timmy as soon as he's ready. I've tried to explain the situation to them without divulging too many details...I mean, that's really not my place, that's really up to Timmy." Russell had grown despondent, and Simran felt a pang of sympathy as she studied her brother-in-law. She seldom had chance to communicate with him, but their few exchanges were light and fun. He wasn't the type to sulk; she appreciated his wit and playfulness. There was a heaviness about him now...it was the same heaviness her brother carried during their regular talks, the weight of secrets and unwarranted shame.

"Russell?"

"Sorry." He laughed lightly; laughed away his nerves, his sense of guilt. "I'm really, uh, screwing up your little family there. Driving a big old wedge of Russell right smack in there, huh?"

"Now you see here. My brother made a decision, and I'll have you know he does not enter into decisions lightly. He is exceptionally stubborn. Why else do you think he's stuck around with you for so long? Pure stubbornness. Timmy made his bed and he's chosen to lie in it. With you. Mother and father will come around. As I said, they like you..."

"Yeah, when I was his boss, they liked me. Now I'm what? Some creepy old perv who took away their son and turned him gay? Seriously, I've spent way too much time thinking about this..."

"Nonsense. They haven't lost a son, they've gained a son-in-law. They'll come to see that soon enough."

"So...they're gonna talk to him, then? For sure? Sometimes...Tim'll just start getting emotional out of the blue and I'm pretty sure this is why, the not talking to Rahm and Varsh thing."

"Yes, for sure. I promise. Mother disparaged at great length that they missed his birthday, it was quite a big one, and--"

"Wait, what?"

"His birthday last week..."

Russell took to shallow breathing, trying to decipher this new bit of information. "It...his...he had a birthday last week? Why the hell didn't he say something?! Why don't I know when his birthday is? Wait...that was on one of those stupid flash cards, I should know this, it's sometime in...August? September. Is this September? What month is this?"

"Well, you've missed his last five birthdays, and the two of you were in such an upheaval as it was, he sort of let it slide."

"He shouldn't do that!"

"I told him as much, but as I said...stubborn."

"Ah, for hell's sake, now I've gotta fix this, too? How much stuff am I gonna have to fix? I just called my mom and tried to tell her about Timmy, but that didn't fly and she's coming to town and..." Russell set about banging his head against his desk.

"Russell? Russell! Calm down, please...Timmy won't care about his birthday, just...just do something nice, a small gesture, he'll appreciate it, I promise...Russell, you're going to have quite the headache, I suggest you stop...Russell...?"

Russell stopped banging his head against the desk, remaining face down with a weak groan. Simran leaned her chin on a hand, smiling lightly with a sigh. "Oh, Russell." This wasn't dissimilar to how conversations went with her brother...the random freakouts, the breaks for recovery. She'd grown accustomed to navigating anxiety attacks and general frustrations.

Sometimes, Timmy and Russell had more in common than they realized.

----------

Audrey's coffee was cold. It stood to reason that it would be; she'd made the coffee at 9am, and it was going on one in the afternoon. Her babies and her thoughts had distracted her, and upon entering the kitchen to make a bottle, she spotted the cup looking pitifully sad and abandoned on the counter.

Her face twisted in disgust as she took a sip. "Yuck." She watched as the coffee swirled down the kitchen sink, and returned her attentions to Shea, cradled snug in her arm.

"Well, little girl...what now, what now? Daddy'll be home soon."

Shea cooed softly.

"I agree." She spoke casually as she went about making a bottle one-handed, a task she'd grown proficient at the last three months. "But until then, we really need to diversify our hobbies around here a little. There's only so many times I can sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star or read Little Bunny's Hoppy Day without going insane." Shea fussed a little. "I know, I know, you like 'em, so I'll keep doing it."

She felt a small stirring within her, and sat the bottle on the counter, leaving her hand free to touch her belly. "As for you, little one..." Her voice went soft, as if a pleading prayer. "Keep letting me know you're in there. I need that."

Shea fussed, and Audrey retrieved the freshly made bottle, heading for the living room. They sat and took to feeding, and Audrey began speaking in earnest to her children. Or to herself, to the universe, to nobody. Whoever was listening.

"It's not as if I'm not grateful, I am. I mean, look at all I have to be grateful for..." She stroked Shea's hair as she suckled her bottle, staring into her mother's loving face. "It's just hard. God, is this hard. The not knowing, not understanding. I used to think I was so smart." She shook her head with a scoff. "Sure puts things in perspective."

Audrey found herself on the brink of tears. She felt very alone, and, realizing she couldn't stay this way, she picked herself up. "Come on, little girl, let's go see what Aunt Jen's up to. Mommy could use a grown up friend right now..." She paused. "Well, a slightly more grown up friend."

----------

Timmy tapped a pencil against the kitchen island, staring at a half-completed crossword puzzle. His brain hurt. Not due to the puzzle, a remediable brainteaser at best. No, his brain hurt because he was unfathomably bored. He couldn't take much more of being a house husband. In an ideal situation, no doubt he and Russell would have reversed situations, leaving him to work all day while Russell did little more than lounge around at home doing nothing, but as was Timmy felt overwhelmingly unfulfilled. There were only so many rooms to clean, so many items to organize. He volunteered on the weekends, the same as he always had, but it wasn't the same as a full-time job.

The men both knew the root of this problem could be traced back to Russell, but they'd put forth the effort to no longer speak of it. Timmy had done his best to forgive Russell, waiting patiently for the day he could return to work. It wouldn't be much longer, but to his shame, there had been more than a few snide comments about the situation directed towards Russell in recent days.

Still, Timmy was grateful to hear Russell walk into the apartment now, tearing him away from the black and white squares he was staring at. They had begun blurring together into nothing, driving him to the point of insanity. He entered the living room, meeting Russell with just a touch too much enthusiasm. This led Russell to look at him sideways, curiously.

"Why are you so happy to see me?"

"Why shouldn't I be?"

Russell practically guffawed, but didn't question the situation any further, opting instead to take advantage of the situation. He ran a finger down Timmy's face. "Well, since you're in such a good mood..."

"Lonely, not horny."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"In your reality, yes."

Russell grumbled a moment before turning his demeanor quickly around. He grinned, holding up a bag. "Brought you something!"

"Oh..." Timmy knew better than to be instantly impressed with an offering from Russell. "Why?"

Russell's body shrank with a heavy sigh. "Okay, honest answer?"

Timmy folded his arms in suspicion. "Have you gotten yourself in some kind of trouble, again?"

"What? No, nothing like that..."

"One of the ladies from work caught you looking at her a bit googly-eyed, was it?"

"Hey, now, I only google at you, come on."

"Ha! I trust your hands have learned to control themselves, but your eyes? Come, now."

"Hey, gimme a little credit!" Timmy was glaring. Russell backed down. "Okay, well, fair. But dude, that new chick, it's like, are they real, are they not, and is it really out of line to ask, or...?" Timmy turned to walk away, prompting Russell to quickly flail at him. "Ng, don't be like that, come on, man."

Timmy turned back with a roll of his eyes. "Fine. Some other kind of misconduct, then? Lose another assistant? You can't go around hurling racially insensitive stereotypes, the last one nearly had your head."

"Dude, what's the big deal? I stereotype you all the time, you don't care."

"For the record, yes, I do."

"Since when?"

"Since always, I've merely come to expect it from you. I suppose it's part of the package."

Russell sniggered as he slithered a hand against Timmy's side. "Yeah, well, if you uh...wanna open the package..."

"Are we talking about the bag in your hand, or--"

Russell hissed through his teeth. "How's about my little snake charmer gets to work?"

"And there we have it." Timmy turned and took to walking swiftly away.

"Okay, I'm done, I swear! Timmy, come back!"

Timmy paused, turning back around hesitantly. "You're quite finished?"

"Yes. Honey, please?" Russell pouted, putting on his best puppy-dog eyes, and Timmy found himself in a state of surrender as he walked back to Russell, reaching for the paper bag clutched in his fist. He accepted the mysterious offering...slowly. Russell sputtered at Timmy's trepidation. "It's not a bomb, geez."

"Very well. So then, what's the occasion?"

"I talked to your sister. When were you gonna tell me you had a birthday last week? And you turned 30, that's a big one, we should've hit up the town, that was a do-it-up-big birthday!"

"We were barely even speaking at the time...really, it's fine." Timmy fingered the edges of the bag, peeking in cautiously...

"No, it's not. Dude, you can't let me off the hook like that, I need to make it up to you."

Timmy had dared to reach into the bag, pulling out its contents. He looked on the object in his hand, underwhelmed. "Uhm...brownies?"

"Yeah, brownies. For your birthday. Happy birthday!"

Timmy stared blankly in Russell's direction. "That's it...? Just brownies?"

"Well no, they're not just brownies, don't be an idiot."

Timmy nodded. "Not that I don't enjoy a baked good as much as the next person, I mean..." He took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully. "Interesting flavor, I'm detecting a...a strange sort of undertone. Where did you get these?"

"Uhm, just...somewhere. I know a guy. So, anyway. I thoughts to meself, I thoughts, 'what does Timmy really need?' The dinner thing's a little overdone, we've seen all the good shows in town, and theeeennnn...eureka!"

"What, eureka?"

"What you really need is to relax."

"Well, you're not wrong, there. So, what's the big surprise, then? Some kind of getaway, is it?" Timmy took a large bite of brownie. "A spa, some sort of--"

Russell giggled, almost maniacally. For a moment Timmy stopped his chewing, looking to Russell curiously before taking another bite.

"Yes, well. Forgive me for being more than a tad skeptical, but this does seem one of those times in which you may not have gained much sense in what would be the proper--"

"I laced the brownies!"

Timmy, having eaten half his brownie, stared down the remaining portion in his hand. "What have you done? Laced with...with what, Russell?"

Russell rolled his eyes. "Poison. You have five minutes to live. C'mon, whattaya think? Pot, dope, wacky grass!"

"You've just fed me marijuana?! Are you serious? This is your big belated birthday gift, attempting to get me high?"

Russell chortled gently. "Yes, and it's already just as funny as I imagined it!"

As was to be expected, Timmy slammed the uneaten portion of brownie firmly back into the bag, tossed the bag in Russell's general direction, and turned away in a huff.

"Okay, okay, wait, wait, wait!" Russell's order was somehow received; Timmy turned back towards him, face growing increasingly angry. "Tim, for real, though, you're so...you're totally tense, with everything going on, come here." Russell took a chance. He swaggered his way to Timmy, grabbing his clenched fists, willing them to relax under his touch, and trailed his hands up the length of Timmy's arms. "I'm just trying to help, babe, I promise." It was clear Timmy was still more than a little pissed, but he was easing gradually down, much to Russell's relief.

"Swear to god, sometimes the only way to get you to do anything interesting is to trick you into it. Y'know, like every time you trick me into doing something lame and boring?"

"You mean things meant to expand your horizons and make you a better person?"

"Yeah, all that hullabaloo. This is just my way of doing that for you. So just...come on, let's eat the brownies, why not? What, have you seriously never been high before?"

Timmy fidgeted, feeling himself growing restless. Certainly the marijuana wasn't kicking in already, was it? Is this what it felt like, this sudden paranoia, this irritation pinching at every nerve throughout his body? His skin was itching, the room was closing in on him, what was happening? No...no, wait. Wait, he recognized this feeling. It was annoyance, frustration at having married a complete and total idiot.

"You've got around an hour before that thing kicks in." Timmy's irritation with Russell made his voice grating. He looked to him in agitation, but something in Russell's eyes began to soften him. He'd meant well...as ridiculous as this situation was, as backwards and misguided as the gesture had been, he had only had the best of intentions.

Timmy closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. "I don't know why I let you talk me into these things, I really don't."

"Already ate half of it anyway, can't turn back, now. Gotta live before you die, Tim."

"Yes, well. With you, I fear my life clock is bound to be ticking away at a rather alarming rate."

----------

"Hey, Aud?" No response. Jeff made his way to the bedroom, and, finding it empty, traced his way throughout the rest of the apartment. "Where the hell are they?"

He sank into the living room sofa with a heavy sigh. His feet ached from a long day's work and he itched to kick off his shoes and lay down, grumbling under his breath. He couldn't relax until he knew where Audrey and Shea were, and so he pulled out his phone and made a call.

Audrey answered. "Hey, you're home early."

"Yeah, by what, five minutes. Everything okay?"

"I'm just over with Jen. Listen, would you mind too much if she and I went out tonight?"

"Yeah, I don't care, I'm beat, I--"

"Oh, great, I'll just drop off Shea and--"

"Wait, seriously?" Jeff scratched the back of his neck, suppressing his next sentence. Honesty wasn't always the best policy with Audrey. Not right now. Not with the pregosaurus. "Uh...I mean, if you feel up to it, but...you're not...you're not tired and what all, with the...?" No. He couldn't do this. "Listen, Aud, we need to talk."

"Oh. Oh, well...okay. I'll be right over, I guess."

Jeff listened to the line go dead, and slammed his head against his phone with a groan.

----------

"Perhaps I won't get high at all," Timmy assured himself. He focused on staring blankly ahead of him, planted stiff upon on the sofa. "Is that...is that possible?"

"Nope, you're done for. Seriously, what's your deal?" Russell plunked himself down, bouncing Timmy lightly beside him. "How do you go through thirty years without getting a little baked? You went to college. You know what it's like."

"I didn't go to school to have fun. I went to Harvard, where I earned my MBA...which I put to excellent use heating up your soup for five years. So yes, anyway, during my time as a student I was a bit busy...you know, studying?"

"Pft, studying. You're boring."

"Mm, well, yes, you married me."

"Mm, well, you said yes."

The men mocked one another for a moment before Timmy shoved Russell gently in the arm, putting an end to the argument. "Enough. I did the deed, I guess it's only a matter of time..."

"Don't worry, I'm here. We'll have a good night, I promise. Have I ever steered you wrong before?" Russell saw the look in Timmy's eyes and cut him off with a quick kiss. "Don't answer that. Just...trust me this time."

The men exchanged easy smiles.

"I really shouldn't," said Timmy with a sigh. "But you leave me so little choice."

----------

Audrey entered the apartment with a smile, brushing her hair behind an ear casually. She was nervous, but tried to cover it as best she could.

Jeff stood, approaching Audrey with an uncomfortably slow stride. Both of them felt a little pathetic, their nerves growing increasingly high in one another's presence. What was there to be so nervous about? Since when were they so awkward around each other? Certainly they had their fair share of problems, but more often than not they were handled with a touch of loving abrasion, not the uncomfortable apprehension they were facing now.

"Where, uh...where's Shea?"

"Oh, Jen and Adam were having so much fun with her, so...thought I'd let them have her for just a minute while we talked. Guess we have a couple of built-in babysitters down the hall, huh?"

Jeff laughed softly. "Yeah, Adam's pretty gung-ho about the whole baby thing." He shook his head. "He'll make a good dad if he doesn't drop the kid on its head as soon it pops out of Jen, I guess. Come to think of it, that's probably what happened to Adam in the first place..." He knocked on his own head. "I mean, something had to have shaken him loose up there."

"Yeah, well. Listen, Jeff..." She had begun to look Jeff over. He looked exhausted, beaten down. He always looked that way, lately, more tired than usual, a combination of long hours and restless nights. He'd taken extra shifts to bring in a little more money. He'd been pulling his weight at home. By all accounts he certainly had every reason to look a little beat up.

"I'm...I'm sorry I even mentioned going out tonight. You've had a long day, we'll stay in."

Audrey didn't look so hot, herself. She looked tired, sure, but more than anything she looked forlorn. He couldn't let her sacrifice something that would make her happy. He had to take one for the team.

"No, you should go out. Y'never get to go anywhere, you're stuck in here with the baby all the time..."

"I don't mind, Jeff, I like being with the baby. Well, I mean, I wouldn't mind getting out once in awhile, but that's...that's not the problem."

"Then what's the problem?"

Audrey shook her head. "Nothing, it's...it's nothing, really. I'll just go get Shea and we'll figure out dinner. You wanna order out again? Or I could whip something up quick..."

"Kinda sick of the frozen dinner thing and we've ordered take out all week. We're on a first name basis with the pizza guy. I mean, Kevin's a nice kid, but I think our tips are starting to pay his way through college, and we've already got one and a half of our own to think about, so..."

"That's okay, I can make something from scratch."

"You don't really cook all that much, Aud."

"Well, I'm...I'm a domestic right now. I need to learn...domestic...things."

Jeff reached out to Audrey, hands soft against her arms. "Your job is to be a mom. And you're doing a great job, you're great with Shea, and you're cookin' this little fella...or lady, whichever, they're bakin' in there just great. That's all you need to be doing, honey. My lazy butt can learn how to heat up a pizza at home once in awhile or hell, I can whip us up some steaks, even. What am I, a good for nothin'? I can do my fair share around here."

"No, but Jeff, you work all day long, and--"

"And so do you. Seriously, it's hard work...incubating."

Audrey let loose a primal sound of aggravation from somewhere deep inside her gut, causing Jeff to jerk back in surprise.

"Whoa, hey...sorry." Jeff pointed to the sofa, backing slowly away. "I'll go right back over there and not talk, okay? Is that what needs to happen, here?"

"I'm sorry, it's just...yeah, I'm incubating. Now I am. Finally, after how many years?"

Jeff collapsed to the sofa. "Is that what this is about?"

"I...I guess, I don't know. This is so easy for other people. Jen's over there trying to get knocked up like it's a fun fair game, and we sank years and so much money into this. And I don't want to sound bitter, I mean, I'm not, but..."

"Aud, it's okay."

"And then after all that I just get pregnant out of the blue, you think that's not some kind of weird cosmic joke? I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm scared, Jeff! For the last three months I've been nothing but terrified that this isn't real, o-or that something would go wrong..."

"Why haven't we been talking about this? That's the sort of thing you should tell me, what am I even here for if you can't talk to me about that kind of stuff?"

Audrey walked softly to the sofa, sitting beside Jeff with a heavy breath. She shook her head, near tears, trying to translate her thoughts into words. She couldn't; there were too many of them, all mixing together at once.

"Sometimes I guess...it's just easier to keep on going."

"But if you're scared, you need to tell me, okay? I can help with that. I mean, at least I can listen. I know I'm not always the best listener, I tune a lot of stuff out, but..." Jeff wrapped an arm around Audrey's shoulder, pulling her close. "It's not like I'm not scared, too, okay? This dad thing is nothing but scary. I walk out that door every day...and y'know, I used to enjoy my time at work...sort of."

"Gee, thanks, good to know you looked forward to getting away from me."

"Pft, that's not what I meant, ya dummy." Jeff squeezed at Audrey's shoulder, allowing her a gentle laugh. "But either way, all I wanna do now is come home to you guys. It's torture, leaving here, not knowing what's going on...why d'ya think I call ten times a day?"

"I don't know, a clever guise to avoid working?"

"You know why. I miss ya."

Audrey snuggled into Jeff's chest. This was nice; a rare moment alone. Even when they were afforded these moments these days, having put the baby to sleep or down for a nap, they rarely took them. They couldn't afford to forget what this was like...

"Tell ya what." Jeff patted Audrey on the shoulder as he stood. "I'm gonna take you out to dinner."

"Sure, one of these nights when we can get a babysitter..."

"Nope, right now. Nothing fancy, just you and me, eating, talking."

"Wh-what? Right now? But...well, the baby, and--"

"Well, let's go see if Adam and Jen wanna take over for an hour or two. You said it yourself, we have built in babysitters right down the hall, the kids are practically dying for the chance to watch Shea. Adam did great with her the other day, I'm not just saying that, you know his mom was a doula? Whatever the hell that is. And Shea's really taken to the doofus, for some reason. How much trouble could they get in for a couple of hours?"

"I guess...I mean, maybe..."

"We can call home every ten minutes, if that's what it takes. Come on, we need to relax, Aud, just you and me, how about it? Go grab a little dinner."

Audrey managed a meager smile. "Yeah...yeah, okay."

----------

Timmy had never noticed how long his fingers were. They were each about a mile long and seemed to just keep growing the longer he stared at them.

"Why do we have fingernails?"

"What?" Russell was busy picking pieces of invisible lint off of his shirt.

"Fingernails, why do we have them? Are they merely decorative, or do they serve some greater purpose? Each time we cut a nail are we somehow laughing in the face of God?"

Russell looked to his hands, forgetting the multitude of imaginary lint littering his clothing. "Whoa...babe, that's heavy." His eyes pierced his own fingers with a rabid intensity. "No... I don't think God has anything to do with this."

"What?"

"No, dude. There's something seriously evil about these things. I need to cut 'em off...right now. Where are the nail clippers? Timmy, I'm not kidding!" Russell's voice grew frantic, higher and higher, his hands flailing. He wanted them off of his body. Timmy ran to him, grabbing his hands. "I think my nails might be possessed! Timmy, what are we gonna do?!"

"No, Russell, it's all right, calm down, it's okay! We'll pray for your hands, everything will be all right, calm down."

"You don't even believe in the bible, what are you talking about?!"

"That doesn't mean we can't say a prayer for your nails, Russell!"

Russell, forgetting about his demonic nails, looked on Timmy as though he'd just uttered the most romantic words in the known universe. His body eased down and he wrapped his arms around him, melting down.

"You're the best husband in the world, do you know that?"

"I had a feeling." Timmy patted Russell lightly against his back. "Do you always get like this, is it always like this? This is weird..."

"Nooo. Pffft. Don't worry, it's okay. Let's go do something fun!"

Timmy held Russell at arm's length, his eyes going wide. "What, leave the apartment? We shouldn't do that. That sounds like a bad idea, we shouldn't do that. We shouldn't. No. Stay, let's stay. Shall we stay?"

"No, it's more fun if we leave!"

Timmy shook his head. It kept on shaking. Russell finally grabbed either side of Timmy's head, planting a sloppy kiss upon his lips. It wasn't a very good kiss, and Timmy looked about in confusion as Russell murmured sounds of "mmm" before breaking out in a fit of giggles.

"Russell?" Timmy spoke against Russell's giggling lips. "Let's stay here."

Russell pulled from Timmy's face. "No! Let's go get ice cream! I want ice cream."

Timmy thought a moment. "Oh, good heavens, ice cream sounds amazing. Yes, okay, let's do that instead."

----------

"So, her bottles are in this drawer here, and diapers are in the changing table in her room, and--"

Jen rolled her eyes dismissively. "I've got it, Audrey! Really, you don't need to worry, Shea's in good hands." She rocked the baby gently in her arms and Shea peered sweetly up at Jen. "We're going to have a great time while mommy and daddy are away, aren't we, Shea?! Yes, we are! Oh, you love your auntie Jen, don't you?! Yes, you do!"

Audrey hummed out in hesitation. "Oookay. Well...we'll only be gone for a couple of hours, if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call, okay?"

Adam came up behind the women. "We'll be fine! You know, my mother taught me all about babies, she--"

"She was a doula," said Audrey, "I know." She sighed, kissed Shea on her little face. "Love you, my precious. Mommy and daddy will only be gone for an eensy teensy bit, okay? You be good for Jen and Adam."

Jeff walked from the bedroom. "No parties."

Adam laughed. "Why would we throw any parties?"

"Talking to the baby," said Jeff. "She's a wild one. And you two..." He eyed Jen and Adam. "This is a test of your willpower. You want one of those? She will poop. She will pee. She will cry for no discernible reason whatsoever and make you question your very sanity until you scream out to all that is holy, 'what do I do, lord, what do I do?!'"

Jen and Adam stared at Jeff with wide eyes, and he gave them a grin.

"Well, you guys have a great night, we'll see ya later."

----------

The bell above the door of the ice cream shop jingled as Russell and Timmy walked their way inside with a small shuffle of their feet, a near skip and a small giggle which they suppressed, shushing one another softly.

The young man behind the counter looked bored with life, but perked slightly at the sight of them. What was up with these weirdos?

"How many flavors?" asked Timmy, unable to suppress his skipping as he approached the counter.

"Uh, like, 40."

"Like 40, or 40? Because you see, we've a terrible lust for ice cream at present--"

Russell snickered.

"--and we must squelch it at once, you see, so we must know precisely the number of flavors from which we can choose to cleanse our voracious appetite for creamed ice. Tally ho young man and tell us the number!"

Russell cackled, "Tally ho, ha ha ha..."

"Are you..." the young man eyed them both slowly, "...are you guys high, or...?"

"A little," said Timmy with a nod and a scrunch of his face. "Perhaps a little high. Which is precisely why I need you to tell me how many flavors of ice cream your fine establishment provides, do you understand?"

The young man nodded. "Yeah, man, sure, whatever. Uh...42."

"The answer is 42?" asked Timmy. His eyes went very wide for a moment, thoughtfully, as though stunned.

"Does that mean something?" asked Russell. "Is that some nerdy math thing?"

Timmy shook it away. "What are the flavors? You know what, nevermind. Shall we have a sample?"

"Of...which one?" asked the young man.

"All of them," declared Timmy. "Each and every one, please." He turned to Russell. "I'm so terribly indecisive, this evening."

The young man's jaw gaped. "All...all 42? Like, for real?"

Russell leaned over the counter. "Is that in your job description, do you give out samples?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Is there a limit on samples?"

"I guess not, no..."

"Then you heard the man, get out the tiny cups!" He leaned back with a wide smile. "Please and thank you, you're soooo nice, really, you're super great."

----------

"I don't get why Jeff has to be so dramatic." Jen bounced Shea gently in her arms as they paced the living room. "She's such a good baby, what could possibly go wrong?"

Shea fussed a bit.

"Ohhh, what is it? Do you want your bottle? Hey, Adam, you wanna go make her bottle?"

"Oh...sure, I can do that, no problem." Adam disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Jen and Shea to continue walking peacefully around the living room, dancing and humming songs.

And then it happened. Jen heard it: a loud CRASH from the kitchen. At first she froze, uncertain of what to do, and then cautiously she called out, "Adam, is everything okay...?"

"Yes....."

"I thought you were just making a bottle?"

"It's harder than it sounds!!!"

----------

It was dark outside Russell's office. He and Timmy had slipped into the building discretely, tip-toeing quiet as mice despite the floor being very much deserted by this time, the majority of the staff having made their way home. It used to be that Timmy would have been the only one still in the office at this hour. He felt an odd, familiar sensation returning to him, the dim lights of the room flooding his vision, his fingers gracing his old desk which was covered now with the belongings of another.

"Russell..."

"Yeah?" Russell was studying his office door, reading his own name, studying each letter very carefully. It didn't look right. Something was wrong with his name, but he couldn't pin it down.

"It's funny..."

"Funny, ha-ha?" Russell did a little dance, turning himself about with a spin and a hop as he made his way to Timmy.

"No, no, no. Funny-funny," said Timmy curiously, tapping his old desk rhythmically. He felt disjointed, somehow, and his brain could focus only on the desk in front of him. It was a million miles wide. This desk had been his home for such a long time, why wasn't he sitting at it? Where was he? Where was home? What was happening?

"Tiiiiimmy..."

Timmy turned the top of his torso around slowly, and then forced his legs to follow suit. He blinked heavily, focusing in on Russell. He smiled at him, a long, thankful smile. Oh...oh, there it was. It all made sense again. He knew where he was, now. There was home. "Russell! Hello!"

"Hi, Timmy!"

"Why did we come here, again?"

Russell looked around. "Oh. Dunno, I think I wanted to catch up on..."

"Work? This is where you work."

Russell suppressed a laugh. "Are you hungry? I'm starving."

"We just had ice cream," said Timmy.

"Did we order ice cream?"

"We had 42 ice creams...in tiny, tiny cups."

"Oh, yeeeah." Russell grabbed Timmy by the hand, leading him down the hallway. "The pink ones were amazing."

"Oh my god, the pink ones were spectacular! But that young man...he wasn't any fun at all, quite the Debbie Downer. I don't think he liked the pink ones at all. Where are we going?"

"Break room has food. I'm starving."

And so Russell and Timmy made their way to the break room in search of food. In their desperation for ice cream samples, they had indeed neglected to consider procuring any actual sustenance, so they found themselves rummaging now through the company cabinets and fridge for anything left behind. Timmy downed the remnants of a box of crackers. Russell discovered a spray can of whipped cream. He pumped some into his mouth, but his aim was relatively poor, a gob of white cream clinging now to the outside of his mouth. It looked quite out of place to anybody who might have been a little...under the influence.

"Sir, you have..." Timmy stared at the cream on Russell's face, watching it slide slowly downward. Mesmerized. "Sir....."

Russell sniggered as Timmy fast approached him. "Oh my god, why are you calling me 'sir'? That sounds weird. Since when have you ever called me--"

Timmy shot forward, licking the whipped cream from the corner of Russell's mouth. Then slooooowly, his tongue dragged the length of Russell's lips teasingly. Russell's eyes closed, his breath catching.

And all at once, Timmy pulled away, Russell opening his eyes to look back upon Timmy as he stood nonchalantly with a soft smile.

"How do I taste?" asked Russell casually. No hint of sleaze; genuine curiosity.

"Like whipped cream, sir."

After a moment of silent staring, both men took to cackling. And then, Timmy hoisted himself upon a table, sitting cross-legged.

"I'd like some moooore, Russell," he said liltingly.

Russell held the can of whipped cream above Timmy's head, and Timmy held his mouth open in acceptance, taking in a long stream of white cream.

With a mouth full of fluff he murmured, "Oh my word, that's delightful. But that isn't what I meant."

"Oh?" Russell queried. It took him all of a second to process Timmy's request. "Oh!"

And with that Russell thrust his lips onto Timmy's, their faces meshing in the mess of whipped cream still held in Timmy's mouth, forcing them both into violent laughter.

----------

Having sufficiently licked each other clean of whipped cream, Russell and Timmy had made their way to Russell's office, where Russell proceeded to pin Timmy to the sofa. Their kisses were sloppy, poorly placed. Once in awhile they found one another's mouths. At present, Russell was having a lovely time groping Timmy's chest, a quizitive look coming over his face.

"You've got, like, no tits at all," said Russell finally. "Did you know that? Can we do something about that?"

Timmy shook his head slowly. "Nooo. I didn't come with them, I'm afraid. BUT-but-but...for the low low low low price of only $19.95 you too can order your Timmy accessory pack which includes for a limited time--"

"Boobies?"

"Boobies!"

The men sniggered stupidly. Russell trailed his hand down to the front of Timmy's pants, gripping thoughtlessly. "Bought this accessory pack." He tried his best to make a sexy face, but failed.

"No," said Timmy. "That came free with the purchase of my soul, darling."

Russell sighed out. "You're so romantic, baby." A look of determination came over him as he sat up. "That's it. No more hiding, no more bullcrap, y'know what I'm gonna do? Fuck the establishment!"

"What?"

"I'm-a scream it from the rooftops, baby, I love this man! I love him! He's mine, he's my little brown goddess!"

"Goddess?"

"God, brown God. My sexy little brown Indian God! You awaken my aura, baby! People need to know!"

"Your aura? Your aura tastes like whipped cream." Timmy leaned in for more kisses, Russell cutting him off.

"Nah, I have to do something, uhhhh...here, use this." Russell grabbed Timmy's hand, placing it to his face, and Timmy set about kissing his own hand.

Russell pulled out his phone, scrolling to the contacts screen. Eyes barely focused, his finger flicked through the names, landing finally on his chosen target, pressing down, and he raised the phone lightly in triumph as the number began to dial.

He held the phone to his ear, waiting, giggling as Timmy made eye contact with him, softly kissing his clenched fist for Russell's amusement. Ahhh, he was adorable...this was the best idea.

He heard a voice on the other line and began to speak: "Hey, hey, hey, so get this..."

"Yes, get this," echoed Timmy.

"Shh, shh, shh, baby, I'm trying to talk."

Russell pulled the phone away, cleared his throat and stared at it for awhile, forgetting he had meant to speak. Timmy nudged him with his foot.

"Oh. Oh, yeah." Russell placed the phone back to his ear, smiling, giddy. "Heeeyyyy, dad!"

Notes:

Yeah, a bit of sitcom pot logic at play, here.
Timmy had a second-hand buzz, once. :P S05E01 "If I don't get a chili cheese dog soon, it will assuredly harsh my mellow."

Apologies for potentially slow updates, I assure you I won't be vanishing (you can nag me on Tumblr/Paxella).

Chapter 17: Floating

Notes:

I know this update took longer than usual. I'm still here and I won't be going anywhere!

(Small point of reference, just in case: S7E2, Jeff and Audrey refuse to use any name for their baby that has belonged to a woman Russell has slept with; Russell has Timmy catalog all of his previous sexual exploits so they can find a unique name.)

"Heeeyyyy, dad! I'm in, uh..." Russell's head was floating. He felt good. This was good, yeah, keep going. "In the office working late, and...heh, psych. I'm totes making out with Timmy."

Timmy attempted to place a hand over his mouth to stop himself from giggling; laughter sort of suppressed, he continued placing soft kisses to his palm, finding Russell's lips a bit busy at the moment. He had to make out with something, he was in the mood for love. Russell's heart flittered stupidly at the sight of him.

"You're sexy." He turned back to the phone with a laugh. "Oh. Not you. So yeah, I married this, went to the altar of my heart. Just thought you should know. It's how I roll now, man. It's cosmic, I feel it on-on...on a cellul...cellal..." He giggled in Timmy's direction. "Funny word! Cells. All my cells are bursting! On a...a spiritual level, y'dig? You should be jealous, I would give you some but you can't have any, ohhh no. This...this is my creamy slice of mocha latte choco...baked...goodness. Mmm. Yeah. BOOM."

Russell hung up, taking to giddy laughter as he allowed the phone to slip from his fingers onto the office floor. "Givin' it to the man."

"Who was that?" asked Timmy between hand-kisses.

"That was...wait, who was that?" Russell thought a moment. "Oh, yeah, my dad, it was my dad...my...it was my......huh." Before Russell could put much more thought into this, Timmy had collapsed carelessly against him, having grown weary of his hand.

"Russell?" Timmy pawed at his face. "What say we...do something else?"

"Whatcha wanna do?"

"Mm..." Timmy touched Russell's lips with his fingertips, then the tip of his nose, then grabbed his ears. "I like your face. I'd very much like to build your face out of something. What shall I build your face out of? I want to be an artist."

Russell was high to be sure, not all there, but beyond the haze he found Timmy's newfound playfulness positively intoxicating. "You...I like you like this."

"Just like this?" Timmy mock pouted.

"No...noooo." Russell booped Timmy playfully on the nose. "I like you. Always."

----------

"I should call Jen." Audrey had already pulled out her phone before Jeff could voice his objections, barely having entered the restaurant. Her finger hovered, prepared to dial, and she looked to Jeff in consultation. "Am I being overly-anxious about this?"

"Maybe a little, but ya get a pass. Let's just get as far as the table before we enter freakout mode, okay?"

A few more minutes, a table, and half a glass of water downed ridiculously fast did not calm Audrey's nerves. "I think I'll call. Should I call? Our kitchen is probably on fire."

"Now come on, why would the kitchen be on fire?"

"We left Adam and Jen in charge of our kitchen! Why does it feel like this conversation is going in reverse here, why am I having to be the voice of reason?"

Jeff kept his cool, reaching a hand across the table and resting it softly against Audrey's arm. "Honey, nothing is gonna go wrong tonight. Not a darn thing, I promise you, and if I'm wrong, you can hold it against me until the kids are 18 and out of--"

"Forever, I'll hold it against you forever."

"Well, I'm glad we've established a baseline for all future parenting mistakes."

The restaurant was a pretty casual place, and the atmosphere around them was bringing them both back down to earth. People chatting, laughing, enjoying themselves. They should be enjoying themselves, too.

Jeff looked now to the menus in front of them. "Now, listen, let's just eat and forget about those idiots back at our place."

"Calling them idiots really helps."

"Those responsible adults guiding our child with a caring, loving hand for the evening." He pointed to an item on the menu. "You wanna order the baby-back ribs?"

Audrey's lower lip began to quiver, her eyes filled with dread.

Jeff nodded, closing the menu. "Go ahead and call."

----------

Jen sat reading aloud in the living room from a children's book, Shea positioned in her bassinet beside the sofa, Adam to Jen's side, peering at each new page with great intrigue.

"And so, Little Bunny began to hop his way back through the enchanted forest...when suddenly, from a puff of billowing smoke appeared--"

Adam gasped, clutching a hand to his chest. Jen lowered the book slowly. "Seriously? On the edge of our seat, are we?"

"I'm sorry, but...what, is it the evil witch? Tell me he doesn't run into the evil witch again!" Adam hit a clenched fist against his knee. "That bi--..." He looked to Shea. "That b-word seriously has it out for Little Bunny! What did he ever do to her?!"

"Well," said Jen, returning to the book, "you're not gonna like this next part." She continued reading. "From a billowing puff of smoke appeared..." She sighed, reading the next words in a sort of monotone developed from years of lovingly placating Adam. "The evil witch."

"Nng, I knew it! Then what happened?"

"She neared Little Bunny, moving closer and closer. She was old and ugly, and she smelled rotten and nasty. Then Little Bunny--"

"Wow, honey, you're really bringing this story to life, I can practically smell the witch."

"What?" Jen sniffed at the air. "Oh...ohhh. I don't think that's a witch. Shea?" She sat down the book, glaring at the baby suspiciously. "Do you have something to tell us?"

She wasn't fessing up, and so Jen lifted her carefully, placing her nose to Shea's backside with great hesitation...and she took a brief, fearful whiff. "Oh, god, it's like somebody died!"

Adam was quick to relinquish any responsibility in this department. "Your turn."

"How the heck is it my turn?"

"Hey, I already changed one of her diapers, it's time you got a crack at this." Adam met Jen's sour expression with a soft chuckle. "Hey, you wanna be a mom, you gotta get used to this kinda stuff."

Jen groaned as she stood. "Of all the things you have to be right about..."

----------

Jeff shooed away the waiter as Audrey made the call, waiting for Jen to answer.

"We'll just be a minute," said Jeff. A friendly dismissal as his stomach growled, his only source of food quickly leaving to attend to other diners...come back, noble sir, I require sustenance...

"Hi, Jen, just checking in."

Jeff fiddled with anything in front of him, a napkin, the salt and pepper shakers, forgetting the rumble in his stomach for a second. He didn't want his level of concern to match Audrey's, but this wasn't easy for him, either. "Everything okay, uh, there on the home front?"

"Mm-hm, she says they've been reading and...oh, wait, Adam's saying something. He'll pay for the dishes he broke." Audrey's eyes narrowed as she whispered. "That could have been our baby he broke!"

"Well, apparently he would have paid for damages, so." According to the look on Audrey's face, this was not the time for jokes. Jeff reached across the table for the phone, which Audrey relinquished.

Jeff addressed Jen. "So hey, don't let your husband break our baby, or you don't get paid for your services tonight."

"You weren't paying us anyway," said Jen.

"Well, breaking our stuff isn't gonna make me start."

"Look, we don't need paid for watching Shea."

Jeff could hear Adam perk up in the background: "Wait, he wants to pay us? I mean, we can talk about that, if he wants to start paying--"

"We just love spending time with her," Jen reiterated. "And right now, I should let you go. It's time for a clean diaper."

"Diaper?" Jeff thought. "Well, that's easy enough, I mean, I've seen Adam change a diaper now, and that wasn't a total fail...wait, number one or number two? I have yet to see him change a number two."

Audrey chimed in. "Come on, Jeff, he can't be any worse than you. I have yet to see you change a number two diaper without you looking like you're approaching enemy lines in a war film."

"Come ooon, I--" Having no rebuttal, Jeff returned to Jen. "Call if you need anything, and I mean anything. And stop breaking crap!"

"Everything is fine. Please, relax, enjoy dinner, Shea's perfect. We've got everything under control."

----------

Every centimeter of Timmy's body felt fundamentally relaxed, a feeling typically unfamiliar to him, and he was lavishing in the sensation. He'd spent a good ten minutes humming a mellow tune as he rummaged through Russell's desk in search of art supplies with which to sculpt his lover's face, the lover whom sat atop the desk in bewilderment at Timmy's treasure hunt. And Timmy, having quickly forgotten this end goal, had grown distracted by the various objects he'd come across in his pursuit.

He'd amassed a small pile of objects he found interesting, plunking them next to Russell as he went along. A stapler, which he'd slapped down several times in great amusement, leaving Russell to find a random scrap of paper to place a dozen random staples in...probably an important work document; a mountain of paperclips in various sizes and colors; a stash of candy which Russell had been hoarding in the back of a drawer, which the men quickly took to unwrapping and shoving down their gullets. And then Timmy came across a small hand mirror, not at all a curious object to find in one Mr. Dunbar's belongings, and he took a long, studious look at himself.

"Oh...my...god."

Russell spoke through a mouthful of chocolate, joining Timmy back on land.

"Wha, huh?"

"Who is that sexy man?"

Russell swallowed, peering into the mirror with Timmy. "Babe...that's you."

"Don't be daft, dearest. Who am I?"

"You're..." Russell drifted off, finding the question a bit too heavy. "What else was in the desk?" He returned to the piles on the desk, and fingered the small mountain of paperclips, pulling a large one from the top of the stack. He made it dance in front of Timmy's face. "Hi, Timmy! I'm a paperclip!"

Timmy chortled. "What?"

"I'm a paperclip! I'm, uh..." Russell slid slowly to the floor, snorting.

Timmy made his way to the floor with Russell, grabbing a paperclip as he went along. He thrust it in Russell's face, putting on a falsetto voice as he shook the small piece of metal. "I'm also a paperclip." He stopped, falling flat to his back. "Silly," he spoke slowly. "Sooo silly."

"Ahhh, you neeeeed silly. You're so uptight. Like a turtle."

"What?" Timmy sniggered. "I'm a turtle?" His eyes went very wide. "Whoa, I am. I'm such a turtle! Why am I such a turtle, Russell?"

"Yeah, get outta the shell, man!" Russell shook his paperclip in Timmy's face, applying a British accent to his voice. "I'm Timmy, I don't like fun things. Pip pip and a cheerio and a hey ho guvnor."

Timmy found this far funnier than he conceivably should have, taking to breathless laughter flat upon the floor as Russell worked to revive him.

"Breathe, baby, breathe!"

Timmy held up his paperclip slowly, trying to make it speak. "I...I..."

"Timmyyyy...."

"I'm Russell and I'm........a paperclip!"

The men both fell back in laughter once again.

----------

"See, that wasn't so bad!" Jen grinned down in victory at the changing table and a freshly diapered Shea, who cooed back at her in apparent satisfaction that her present guardians had not somehow managed to make a complete obliteration of...well, guarding her.

"Now, let's get back to that story."

"Oh, yeah!" shot Adam. "I wanna know what happens with that witch."

"I'm sure the bunny's fine, Adam," Jen assured as she cradled Shea. But as they set about leaving the room, something struck Jen as rather odd. A noise sprung forth from Shea...a familiar, frank noise from her nether region, followed by a foul odor.

Unbelievable.

"You didn't," Jen pleaded with the child, who looked up at her in perfect innocence. "Come on, I just changed you, that isn't fair! Well, if you think I'm gonna turn right back around and change you again--"

"Can't just leave her in it, Jen. That's the perfect recipe for diaper rash."

"I wasn't going to leave her--!" Jen huffed before pasting on a smile of acceptance. "Thanks for the advice." She made her way back to the changing table in defeat and took to checking the diaper she had just applied -- sure enough...here we go again.

"If she does get diaper rash," Adam continued with his lesson of the day, "I heard coconut oil works really well. Also baking soda. Oh, or I've read if you take some flour and--"

"Okay, are we talking about babies or are we baking a cake, here?"

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it."

"Speaking of cakes," Jen continued as she set about changing Shea...again, "my mom called the other day to remind me that Tracey--"

"Which one is Tracey again?"

"Second cousin twice removed on dad's side."

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

"Well, she's got a gluten intolerance so for the wedding, my aunt Martha is wondering if we could--"

"C'mon, Jen," Adam scolded her lovingly. "I thought we agreed on no more wedding talk for awhile, huh? We need a break, there's plenty of time for all of that."

Having finished changing Shea again, Jen relaxed fully in this moment, focusing on Adam's face, full of affection, sweet and sincere. Her hand brushed Shea's soft skin, feeling her wriggle under her hand...this is what she really wanted. This. Her, Adam, a little family...not worrying about aunts and second cousins and gluten.

"Yeah...yeah, you're right."

They leaned in easily, kissing each other softly, feeling very much the picture of perfection. Everything was gonna be okay. The world was their oyster.

Shea started crying.

Jen and Adam returned their attentions to the baby. Jen held her, rocking her back and forth. "What's wrong sweetheart, what is it? Are you hungry?"

Adam ran for the living room, returning shortly thereafter with her bottle; no go.

"Well," said Adam as the baby continued crying, her voice elevating in pitch, "if you're not hungry, maybe you want one of your toys? There's a lot of toys in here, let's try something."

They presented the little one with a teddy bear, a doll. They tried a rattle, a blankie, a binkie which she promptly spit out. And still she continued to cry.

The couple made their way to the living room with Shea. Perhaps the change of scenery would calm her down, but of course it didn't. Finally Adam resorted to doing a stupid little dance for her amusement. "Hey, look at me, Shea! Look at ridiculous Uncle Adam, doo-doo-doo, I'm a funny clown!"

"She already knows you're a clown, Adam. And it's not working."

"Well, I'm out of ideas. Jeff did warn us that she'd cry for no discernible reason..."

"Should we call them? I'm gonna call, this seems like the perfect time to--" There was a knock on the door. "Seriously, are there any neighbors in this building jerkish enough to complain about a crying baby? Who would come over just to--"

The door opened without them bothering to answer.

"Howdy ho, neighbors!" Oh. Liz. She tilted her head curiously at the sight of Jen and Adam. "Oh, there's been a bit of a switcheroo, I see."

"Hey, Liz," Adam gave a half-hearted wave.

"We're babysitting," said Jen. "Jeff and Audrey went to dinner. Now's really not a good time..."

Liz invited herself inside, closing the door behind her. "Well, I just came over to see if Jeff and Audrey had any sodium bicarbonate I could steal. Hubby had some bad habaneros, and..." She halted, now. It seemed as though Shea's crying had suddenly reached Liz's ears. "Is the baby okay?"

"No, she isn't." Jen's irritation was growing. "She's been crying for the last few minutes, we can't get her to stop. Jeff and Audrey aren't here right now and I don't know where they keep their sodium bi-whatever so I'm really sorry, Liz, it's been really great seeing you, have a nice night."

"Well, now, just a minute, I'm not completely useless in this situation." Liz approached Jen and Shea, looking the baby over thoughtfully. She crouched towards the baby very close, cleared her throat, and...meowed.

From the back of her throat, sounding distinctly like a domestic feline, she meowed several times with absolute conviction, causing the baby to cease her crying for a moment, staring at the woman with wide, intense eyes.

Liz stood tall, smiling at Jen in satisfaction. "There ya go, you're welcome for my services."

Jen shook her head in disbelief.

Shea began crying again.

Jen took to bouncing her hopelessly as she addressed Liz. "What the heck was that, why would you meow at a baby??"

"Well, it always works with my kids."

Adam joined the women. "Your kids are cats, Liz. You're speaking their language." The group all looked to the child in Jen's arms, desperation filling the room. "What are we gonna do?"

----------

Russell was staring at his paperclip. Who invented paperclips? How did they get them to bend like that? He started to twist his own legs, bending them in such a way as to mimic the curves of the small piece of metal; in actuality, he was barely moving his legs at all.

Timmy was still making his paperclip dance, finding the little game rather amusing. "Russell!"

Russell looked at what Timmy was doing. "That's good."

Timmy suddenly lost interest. He had a better idea, and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. "I want a picture of us. How do I make it work?"

"Uhm...buttons. Camera buttons." Russell hit a button on the side of the phone, and the screen turned on. He laughed at himself. "I made a phone call earlier, I can do this, gimme."

"How did you make a phone call? I can barely......." Timmy's thoughts trailed off. He shook his head, breathing out with a long hum. "Everything feels good, now. Like...like, uhm..."

"Like what?"

"Floating. I'm floating. In a sea of Merlot..."

Russell found the camera and turned it around onto the two of them. They flashed soft smiles and turned to kiss as they snapped several photos of themselves, Russell finally dropping the phone to his chest. Timmy reached for it, aiming to look at the photos they had just taken, but got a bit lost. He gave up with a shrug, dropping the phone to his own chest, and smiled warmly back at Russell.

He liked the feeling of floating. He liked this feeling of being so close, alone together in the dimly lit office, as if they were the only ones left in the world...

Suddenly there came a soft voice as if from the heavens: "Timmy?"

Timmy looked around, stunned. "What is that? Do you hear that?"

"Timmy...?"

"Is that an angel? My god, is this heaven? It does feel a bit like--"

Russell looked to Timmy's chest. "Dude, it's coming from your phone..."

Timmy snatched his phone back, placing it to his ear. "...Hello? Yes?"

----------

Jen couldn't take much more of this. "Timmy, what's going on? No, you called me."

Jen had handed the baby off to Adam by now, her aggravation growing far too severe. Between the baby screaming, Adam's random factoids and general tomfoolery, Liz showing up, and now Timmy's poorly timed interruption, she was about five seconds from a total meltdown.

"What does he want?" asked Adam. Jen shot him a look equivalent to a poisoned dart, and he sat down with Shea, not daring to speak again unless spoken to.

Returning to the call, she did her best to keep an even tone to her voice. "Timmy, you're not making any sense."

"Yes, well," said Timmy, "you see, I didn't mean to call, but now I'm rather glad I did. I was just contemplating the moon. I can't see it from where I am, but I feel as though I can, I can sense the moon, you see, and I can feel the weight of the moon on me right now although I do feel very light, but I'm wondering how much the moon must weigh. But then what if I'm simply feeling the light of the moon? That's another matter entirely."

Jen removed her phone from her ear a moment, pressing it against her forehead, taking a breath to center herself before returning to the call. "Okay, you're high. Why are you high? No, don't answer that. Goodbye, Timmy."

"Noooo! Jennifer, it's important!"

"What's important, Timmy?"

"I don't...I don't remember."

"Listen, I have a problem here, I don't have time right now--"

"Problem? I can help, that's what I do, I'm your Timslice, Timbo, Timmy-limmy-ding-dong, lay it on me."

Jen wasn't in the mood for this, but she chose to placate him. "I'm babysitting Shea, I can't get her to stop crying. I have to go, Timmy."

"Awwwwww. Poor little Shea." And then something occurred to him. An idea, perhaps a stupid idea. He spoke several words to Russell before returning to Jen: "I've an idea! Put us on speaker, please."

"Are you with Russell?"

"Yes. Speaker, please."

Jen pulled the phone away. "Oh, my god, I can't believe this." With the men on speaker, she heard soft speaking in conference, giggling, as if they had arrived at some grand plan. She tried to regain their attention. "...Timmy? Hello?"

"Ah, yes. Have you tried singing to her?"

Liz piped in. "Tried singin' her the song of my tribe, the results were less than satisfactory."

"Is that Liz?" asked Timmy.

Russell seemed uncharacteristically pleased about this. "Hi, Liz!"

Liz shrugged as she leaned towards the phone. "Hey, boys. How's that whole gay thing working out?"

In unison Jen and Adam turned on her with a harsh, "Liz!"

"Beautifully," replied Timmy, unphased.

"Gay as the day the good lord made," added Russell.

"Not quite that gay, darling."

"Gay as...gay as what?"

The men began whispering in conference again, prompting Jen to firmly coax, "Hey, guys!"

"Oh," Timmy came back to Jen, "very well then, we'll figure that out later. Yes, we'll sing. What shall we sing?"

More muttering on the other end. Jen growled in frustration. "I swear to god, I'll hang up on them." The baby was still screeching, though her cries were waning in and out. She would seem to be wearing herself out, only to regain strength and cry harder once again.

"I bet they'll sing a show tune," said Liz with a snort and a smirk. "You know how gay men are, they love their show tunes."

Jen was fed up with every single one of them, but she wasn't about to stand for this. "You can't stereotype like that, Liz. Just because two people are in a same-sex relationship doesn't mean they instantly fall in line with every single archetype that society says--"

Russell's voice came through across the phone. "We're gonna sing a show tune!"

Liz laughed sharply, and Jen threw an arm up in surrender. Done.

"No no, wait," shot Russell. "Better idea. Timmy, let's sing her our song, baby."

"We have a song?"

Across the line, Russell leaned into Timmy's ear, chittering whispered words, and Timmy perked in recognition. The men grew excited at this revelation -- as excited as they could in their present state -- and met mouths in uncoordinated celebratory kisses which they vocalized a bit too loudly for the comfort of those on the other end of the line, sounds of muffled mmmmms and uuhhhhs hitting the ears of the trio across the way.

"Hmm," voiced Liz. "Well, this certainly brings back some memories. Used to be me gettin' those sounds out of him."

"What?" Jen turned to Liz uncomfortably before the words clicked. "Oh, gross!" She nearly screamed into the phone. "Hey, guys! TIMMY!!"

Timmy returned to the call. "Oh......hello."

"Dude, I don't have time for this, I have a screaming baby and--"

"Right." He motioned for Russell to begin. "Shall we?"

Timmy began to sing first: "Hold on, little--" He nudged at Russell. "No, we sing together. Together."

"Ohhhh. Yeah, yeah, I feel you, yeah."

And so the men began to sing, soft and sweet, as if a lullaby: "Hold on, little girl, show me what he's done to you...stand up little girl, a broken heart can't be that bad..."

Jen's face twisted in thought, confused. "What is that? Is that Mr. Big? Are they singing Mr. Big?"

Adam smiled. He swung his arms softly in time to the song, rocking Shea to the rhythm of Russell and Timmy's hazy lullaby. It had been awhile ago, but he remembered. "Yeah. To Be With You..."

"This is their song?" questioned Liz. "They have a song?"

"They're stoned," answered Jen, "they don't know what they're talking about."

"No," Adam spoke with an authoritative tone and the women looked to him. "This is their song. I know what they're talking about, I was there, I remember. I mean, I was a little drunk, but I was there." He looked down at the baby, whose cries were starting to slow. "And I think it's working."

"I'm the one who wants to be with you, deep inside I hope you feel it too, waited on a line of greens and blues, just to be the next to be with you..."

Jen held the phone closer to Shea. Her eyes were growing heavy, her cries growing ever slower as the men continued their song. The room was still, all breaths held steady...

Timmy and Russell stumbled over a few words but recovered easily, never veering from the soft, gentle cadence of their song. There was a humble sincerity to their voices, a lovingness...they were singing to the baby...they were singing to each other...

"Why be alone when we can be together, baby? You can make my life worthwhile...I can make you start to smile..."

There was a sense of devotion between them, and a stunned silence in the Binghams' apartment. And the baby drifted into sleep in Adam's arms with a contented sigh...just like that. They let the men continue their song, and when they'd finished, nobody spoke for a time.

Finally Timmy's voice came across softly: "Did it work?"

"Uhm, yeah," said Jen with a jerk. "She's fast asleep. Thanks, guys."

"Oh, very much obliged. Any time, really."

Jennifer walked to a chair and sank down, letting the air she'd been holding in so tightly finally, slowly escape her lungs.

"We love you all," Timmy added with utmost sincerity.

"Yeah," said Russell. "We love you guys. For real, you guys...you're the best." He paused shortly. "Is Liz still there? Hey...hey, Liz?"

"Yes, Russell?"

"No hard feelings, doll. Thanks for turning us gay."

They heard the sound of Timmy and Russell's stifled laughter at their little in-joke regarding Liz, and she shrugged in acceptance. "Was there ever really any doubt? You can't do any better than me, so why try? Search back through my exes, I'm sure there's more of them in the bunch who gave up and decided to swing the other way after a taste of this old broad."

"Yeah," said Jen, "I don't think you're really getting the gist of...never mind. Hey, Timmy?"

"Yes, Jennifer?"

"G'night."

"Goodnight, Jennifer. Do consider the moon, won't you?"

Jen smiled softly. Now that things were winding down, she could find him endearing again. "Sure thing, Timmy."

She ended the call, and leaned back in relief...finally she was at peace. No more screaming baby, nobody doing or saying anything stupid for the rest of the night.

Then came the shrill irritation of Liz, breaking through her momentary bliss. "Y'know who should be having a baby? Those fellas."

"What?" Jen looked to Liz, her stomach turning.

"Well, yeah. I mean, we couldn't get her to stop crying. Heck of a bunch of ad interim parents we all made, huh? Russell and Timmy got the kiddo to stop crying over the phone and messed up on wacky tobacky. Huh! Good thing I'm more inclined to kids of the furry variety." She made her way to the door. "Well, toodles. I'll just go to the drug store for hubby's tummy ache."

As Liz left, Adam watched a pout develop over Jen's face...and then the whine started.

"Jen...honey, she didn't mean anything. She doesn't even know we're trying, she doesn't--"

"Timmy and Russell should be daddies, not us!" Jen whimpered.

"Well, honey, only one of us would be a daddy, so..."

"I couldn't get her to stop crying! I'm gonna be a terrible mommy-y-y!" Jen took to her feet and made a dash for the bedroom, leaving Adam alone with Shea still sound asleep in his arms. He looked around helplessly, and sighed out long and hard.

"We can do this," he reassured himself, gazing back at Shea's sleeping face. "I know we can."

----------

"How's the rabbit food?" asked Jeff.

"Want a bite?"

"Uh, no. You enjoy that, it looks..." He eyed Audrey's plate full of lettuce and various assorted vegetables...and were those chunks of tofu...? What the hell were those orangey looking things with the, uhm...spores... "No, that's a special treat just for you, you go all out on that bad boy."

"Well, how's yours?"

Jeff offered his plate. For a second Audrey recoiled in surprise. "Seriously?"

Jeff didn't share. On the rare occasions when Jeff did share, one was taking a calculated risk -- take too much and you were likely to have your hand bitten off upon forcible retrieval of food...grrrr, mine, Jeff hungry, Jeff protect food.

"Yeah, well, isn't that one of those things about having a kid, the whole sharing food thing? Eventually she'll be begging for table scraps."

"We didn't have a puppy, Jeff, we had a baby."

"You want a bite, or not?"

Audrey placed a small piece of meat onto her fork, bringing it to her mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. "Oh, that's..." Her face turned bitter. "Uhm, kind of terrible."

"Yeah."

"You should complain."

"I might. Not a big deal."

Audrey looked Jeff over in confused reflection. He wasn't going to complain? He was so calm and centered. Something was very, very off with this picture. "Okay, what's happening here?"

"Whattaya mean?"

"You gave me food from your plate and you're not going to complain about being served a meal that I'm pretty sure they forgot to even cook. That's money out of pocket for food you're not eating, Jeff. Did you take a sedative or something when you got home from work?"

"Sedatives? No. Tempting. Have any?"

"You don't need any, honey, you're sedated enough," Audrey laughed. "Are you still in there, did I grab a doppelganger? I mean, I'm not complaining, I'm just confused..."

"I dunno, Aud, I just..." Jeff realized he'd been holding in air and made a concentrated effort to take a deep, cleansing breath. "Just seems like there's a lot of bigger things to worry about these days, y'know?"

There was an understanding silence between the couple for some time as their eyes returned to their food, trying to will themselves to eat. It wasn't working. Finally Jeff looked back to Audrey's plate, pointing.

"What the heck are the orange things?"

"What?"

"On your plate."

Audrey picked up one of the orange pieces, and a small frown graced her face as she eyed the vegetable between her fingers: "Baby carrots." She tossed it back to her plate, lower lip threatening another quiver. "I'm calling Jen."

"No, c'mon, I'm sure everything's fine..." Jeff looked around for another source of distraction and came up short. He tried to pull from his short list of regular discussion topics. "Anything good on...on Oprah today?" That was a stretch.

Audrey wasn't paying attention. A group walked past their table, catching her eye. She leaned towards Jeff, voice tense and desperate. "Those people brought their baby with them! That's what we should have done, we're so selfish, what kind of parents are we?!"

Yeah, this wasn't working. Jeff gave up on the plate in front of him once and for all, shoving it to the side, placing his napkin over the thing to avoid having to look at it any longer. "How about baby names?"

"...What?"

"Anymore thoughts on baby names?" If all they could think about was baby stuff, why not steer the conversation to more sensible shores?

Audrey seemed to relax at this question. "Well, I've been going back through the baby name book. But ugh, that was such a disaster last time, I'm not getting my hopes up..."

"Well, maybe it'll be a boy this time."

Audrey cracked a small, impish smile. "I have a feeling." Her expression quickly shifted to one of repulsed hesitation. "Seriously, I'm not going through that again."

"Does it really matter if Russell's tainted a name, I mean, maybe we went a little overboard with that whole--"

"My brain can't, Jeff, it just can't. Every time I'd look at my child, I'd imagine Russell germs all over them, I can't go through life living that way."

Jeff conceded to this point; Russell germs had cost them a surrogate and several hundred perfectly reasonable baby names in this whole thing...then again, it had led them to Brenda and the name 'Shea', so maybe they ought to be thanking the filthy little skank.

"Well," Audrey concluded, "if it is a little boy, the naming process will be a heck of a lot easier. Won't need to have Timmy go through Russell's sexclopedia again."

"Right, just don't name the kid Timmy," said Jeff. "Stupid name, anyway. What is this, a 1950s sitcom? 'Come downstairs, Timmy, dinner's ready and-- what's that, Lassie, Timmy's fallen down the well again?!'"

"Hm," Audrey smirked softly and joined Jeff in giving up on her food, plunking her plate atop Jeff's. "Well, Timmy's short for his given name, anyway."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hm, his name's Timir."

"Well...Timir Bingham sounds just as stupid as Timmy Bingham, so I think we're in the clear on that one. Anyway, Russell hasn't been with any other men, so that really frees up our options."

Audrey grew suddenly contemplative. "How do we know?"

"What?"

"That Russell hasn't been with any other...you know what, at this point another person's sex life should not be playing this heavily into our parental decisions. We don't even know the gender yet, we can-- Jeff, what are you doing?"

"Calling Russell."

----------

Russell and Timmy were still flat upon the floor behind his desk when the muffled ring of Russell's phone drifted towards their ears.

"Do you hear something?" Timmy hummed softly from the floor. His eyes were closed; he was feeling constellations dance, contemplating his place within the universe in this moment. "Do you hear that as well this time, or is it just me?"

Russell had been staring mindlessly at Timmy's face, and ignored his question. Now, hearing his voice again, Russell really looked at him. His eyes bore deep into every...single...pore.

"You're so beautiful, Tim."

Timmy's eyes opened slowly, meeting with Russell's. Those eyes, a misty sort of blue mixed with a hint of something else, floating like some galaxy amongst the stars.

"I want to be buried in your eyes."

Russell touched a hand to Timmy's cheek, his face growing momentarily concerned. "Don't die."

"When I do. Many years from now. We'll be happy, and I'll be buried in your eyes. I love your eyes. They're full of magic." Timmy smiled; that warm, honest smile that made Russell fall apart. His nose wrinkling in such a way, the corners of his eyes crinkling, his face illuminating the whole room, somehow. Illuminating Russell's heart.

Ugh, what was it about some laced brownies that could make a couple of grown men act so ridiculously, childishly in love? It was all the fault of the brownies, of course.

"Russell?"

"Yeah, Tim?"

"Do you know how much I love you?"

Russell's smile was full of laughter. He was happy. Genuinely, truly happy. Timmy never spoke like this...he showed it, but he never spoke it, this gushing overflow of love for him. Russell had desperately needed to hear it, but he almost couldn't believe it.

"Geez, man, when you wake up in a few hours...and come to your senses..."

Timmy's eyes closed down again, slowly, and he leaned against Russell peacefully. "My head is clear."

Of course it wasn't, but that didn't change matters any. Timmy had come to his senses some time ago, and his words were all true.

Russell felt the weight of the world disappear. Nothing else existed right now. Nothing but the two of them...that's all he'd ever really wanted. Somebody to disappear with. Somebody who'd want to disappear with him.

And so as Timmy curled into Russell's arm protectively to drift into sleep, safe and warm, they let the night take them.

"Happy birthday, baby."

----------

"Jeff, seriously, put the phone down, the food is making us sick enough without digging for details about Russell's sex life."

Jeff went to place the phone in his pocket with a nod of agreement. "Didn't answer anyway."

"Well, keep the phone close, Jen and Adam might be trying to call."

He placed the phone next to his plate and sucked his teeth in frustration. "Yeah, maybe this wasn't such a great..." Rephrase. "This was a terrible idea." He motioned his head towards the exit. "You ready to get outta here?"

Audrey nodded most assuredly. "Yeah."

They stood, and Jeff wrapped an arm around Audrey, pulling her close as they walked towards the door. "We don't need to leave home to have a good time. You know what we need?"

"What's that?"

"Time. We need time together as a family, and we need to breathe. I think we're forgetting how to breathe. And we barely talk anymore, it's like...we can still have fun, right? We're fun people!"

"Hell yeah, we are!"

"Maybe we need some new hobbies."

"Or I could work from home for awhile," offered Audrey.

"Sure, just none of those multilevel marketing gimmicks."

"I could start making cookies again. Sell 'em to the neighbors."

"Yeah, I...guess you could do that."

As they reached the door, Audrey jerked back.

"What's wrong?"

"You, uh...you might want to go back and pay the bill."

Jeff slowly unwrapped his arm from Audrey and turned heel with a sigh. "Okay. I suppose they might appreciate the gesture." He turned back to her with a click of his tongue. "And I'll, uh, I'll suggest they cook the food next time."

Chapter 18: Damage Control

Adam had gone to work reluctantly this morning, leaving Jen alone with a carton of ice cream. She'd woken up before him and had already downed half of it, and the last he'd seen of her, she was whimpering as she aimed to thrust a spoonful of rocky road into her mouth.

He couldn't concentrate on his work...he was worried about her. He was an eternal optimist, almost to a fault sometimes, but he was simply being a realist. He wasn't really worried about their abilities as parents. He knew they'd pull it all together in the end, and one night and one screaming baby didn't mean anything. There'd be lots of nights with a screaming baby in their future, and they'd have to learn how to face it, and they'd have to do it together.

He gave up on the seemingly endless string of work in front of him, taking to his feet and making his way out of his office and down the hall. He found the lobby of Russell's office quiet; too quiet. The man at the desk out front seemed irritated as he glanced up towards Adam.

Adam searched his brain. "Uh...hey, uhm..."

"Kevin."

"Kevin, right. Sorry, not good with names. No offense, but there's been a lot of people at this desk the last few months."

"Gee, I wonder why." The man pointed to Russell's door. "Mr. Dunbar is asleep behind his desk with some guy."

"Dark hair, glasses?"

"Yeah."

"That's Timmy. He used to have your job before he quit."

"Mm. And now they sleep together in his office, do they?" The man seemed genuinely disinterested despite his questioning.

"Yeah, sometimes. Okay if I go in there?"

"Knock yourself out."

Adam creaked open Russell's door slowly, peeking inside...sure enough, the room was quiet. He walked in slowly, flicking on the office light. He paused as he reached Russell's desk, and picked up a small note with what appeared to be a poorly scrawled list:

- accessory pack (boobies for Timmy)
- more pink ice cream
- seriously pink ice cream is so good
- what language do animals think in?
- depends on where they live
- do animals like pink ice cream?
- whipped cream?
- Russell stop

He walked behind the desk to find Russell and Timmy precisely where the man out front had said they would be. "Huh." They looked so cozy despite having spent the night on the floor, curled peacefully together, and he almost dared not disturb them. But they were sleeping on company time...better wake 'em up.

Adam whispered as he kicked Russell's leg, "Psst...hey, Russell...Tim...guys..."

Russell stirred softly. "Nnngggg..."

"C'mon, guys, rise and shine."

"No, mommy."

"Up and Adam...ha! Get it? It's me, it's Adam." He kicked a little harder. "C'mon, Russell, wake up."

Russell cracked his eyes reluctantly, peering up at Adam. The light stun a bit. "What...what's going on?"

"You're in your office, man, you guys slept here. You should probably get up, huh?"

"Ah, crap."

"Yeah. You guys called me and Jen last night--"

"Yeah, got it." Russell looked down at Timmy in his arm, rubbing his hand against him instinctively as he always did upon waking next to him. He tried to piece together the previous evening's events; all he really knew was that he couldn't do so with the figure presently looming over him. He looked back to Adam. "Hey, get lost, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Just watch yourself."

Russell listened intently to each footstep as Adam made his way out of the office, and upon the door closing, took to nudging Timmy softly awake.

"Tim...Timmy...wake up."

"Mm..."

"Gotta wake up."

"But I don't want to ride the pony..."

Okay, well, this wasn't working. Russell uncurled his arm from under Timmy carefully and sat up, and for a time he paused in continuing the act of waking him, reflecting on the situation he found himself in this morning as he studied Timmy's face.

Waking up on the office floor was a little jarring, but he still felt great, better than he had in a long time...well, maybe not physically, sleeping on floors wasn't exactly what the doctor ordered for a trick back, but damn, that man he was looking at made up for any little aches and pains.

Timmy was coming to, his eyes fluttering open; he grimaced as the light hit him. His vision adjusted to find Russell's face gazing down on him, and he offered a confused smile. "Uhm...good morning."

"Morning."

He looked around, realizing where he was. "Why are we...?"

"Ya got blitzed, we spent the night here." Timmy still seemed a bit confused, and Russell offered his hand, pulling Timmy up. He groaned slightly as he sat.

"Yeah, Tim, gotta stop sleeping on floors, we're making a bad habit of that."

"The barn was one thing, we have no good reason to be here right now." Timmy was still coming to, and realized something was off about his comment. That old, standard anxiety so frequent these days was hitting him as he began to take to his feet. "Well, you do, you should be on the clock. I really ought to be at home, you're going to get into a great deal of trouble, I--"

"Dude, chill out a little." Russell yanked Timmy back down to him. As was often the case lately, he felt it necessary to shut Timmy up the only way he knew how -- he placed a hand to either side of his face, holding him steady, and kissed him. This seemed to work, as Timmy eased down, tension escaping his body for a few seconds. When Russell pulled back he shook his head, tsk-ing him lovingly. "You were so chill last night."

Timmy aimed to scold, lowering his eyes and keeping a straight face. "One of us has to have some common sense. It's always been me...you know that's not going to change just because you drug me for a night." But his smile could not be contained. "Still, we did have fun, didn't we?"

"We had so much fun."

Suddenly, Russell heard his phone ring, and his eyes traced a path along the floor towards it, locating it near the sofa. "Meh. Too far. Leave it."

"Perhaps you should go and get it?" proposed Timmy.

"Comfortable here," Russell pouted. "Do I have to?"

Timmy gave Russell a reassuring smile as he stood, making his way across the room. He hadn't expected to be quite as disoriented as he was upon standing, and it took him some time to find his footing. The phone had stopped ringing by the time he'd reached it, but he looked to the screen for the caller.

Timmy looked back to Russell, a touch of concern coming over him. "Russell...please don't panic."

Russell took to his feet slowly. "What, panic? Why am I panicking, who was it?"

"I recall you making a phone call last night. Who did you call?"

"Did I? I don't..." And then it hit him. Slow dread was building in Russell's chest, making it difficult to breath. "No. No, Tim."

"Your father just called back, I'm afraid."

"No, that...can't...what?"

Timmy saw the meltdown processing behind Russell's eyes. He could handle this...he was still a bit foggy this morning and was having a bit of trouble thinking, but he was sure he could maneuver the situation with the required poise and calming presence Russell needed in this moment; he slipped Russell's phone into his own pocket and approached carefully, a soft hand to Russell's shoulder.

"Now, please stay calm, I'm sure there's no reason to be alarmed. Surely you didn't say anything all that outrageous to your father last night."

Russell shook his head. "I told him."

Timmy's hand fell from Russell's shoulder. "What...what do you mean? Told him what?" He knew what Russell meant.

"I told him. We were sitting right there on the sofa, you were frenching your hand and I told him."

"You told your father?"

"Yes."

"You're sure of that? I thought perhaps you'd said something unusual to him last night, but..."

"Think I said we were making out..."

"You what?!"

Russell flinched at Timmy's sudden outburst, taking a step back as he continued flailing thoughtlessly.

"After all you said about not telling him, about living in a paper box and our livelihood and--" A deep breath. Timmy checked himself. No, no, this wasn't right. He looked to Russell, who had taken to cowering slightly. "I'm sorry, this...this needed to happen. I wanted this, I've been pushing for it. And we were both out of our minds last night, what on earth am I going on about?"

"No." Russell recovered, standing tall; he had to take responsibility for this. He had to face facts. Timmy reached for him, but Russell turned sharply with a nod, his shoulders dropping, his head hung in shame. "Nah, man, you're right. I did it again..."

"What? What did you do again?"

"Screwed up a good thing. Damn it, I'm great at that. We really had something good going there, had a great night, and I had to screw it all up...shit's gonna hit the fan, Tim, and it's all my fault, huh?"

Timmy didn't think twice, and a moment later his arms wrapped around Russell from behind, their hands linking, Russell releasing a sigh of relief at this simple sign of reassurance.

"If the shit hits the fan," said Timmy...and his voice cut off. He hadn't really known how to complete the thought, having no reasonable solution to any of their present predicaments, so he simply squeezed Russell's hands, which seemed to be enough. Russell spun around to meet him, holding him, perhaps a bit too tight, but Timmy accepted this.

And the phone rang again.

And Russell squeezed Timmy a little tighter, cutting off the air to his lungs.

"Russ-- can't br--" Russell eased up just enough to allow Timmy's airways to function. "Might I retrieve your phone from my pocket?"

"No. It's him, he'll kill me, he'll kill us both, don't do it Timmy, I'm serious, you don't know him like I do, he's not a reasonable man, I've seen him shoot a guy."

"What? You've seen him what?"

"It was an accident, we were at a gun range and it was target practice and my dad has terrible aim, but he still shot him, and he had this blood lust in his eyes and he looked at me and I knew that one day I'd do something to make him want to exact revenge on me, and this is it, I married you and now he's come to finish what he started so don't answer that phone, Timmy, I mean it."

And so, despite his better judgement, Timmy allowed the phone to continue ringing. When it finally stopped, the room silent once again, Russell further eased his grip upon him; but the men stayed like this, just holding one another for some time. They weren't really sure what else to do. Everything felt so uncertain these days...at least they had this. At least they had each other.

Russell had to refocus, and so he went back to his old mind game: a year ago. Things would have been so different a year ago in this office. Timmy would have been griping at him over some work related nonsense. He would have been yelling at him over some forgotten deadline or scolding him for ogling some woman across the street. He never would have been holding him. He never would have spent a night with him, laughing senselessly, assuring him of his devotion, falling asleep in his arms.

"You know, it's funny," said Timmy suddenly, his voice breaking Russell's thoughts.

"What's funny?" asked Russell softly.

"A year ago, this all would have seemed so absurd, and now here we are."

Russell thrust Timmy away from him in shock, startling him.

"What?" Timmy shot his eyes around, trying to decipher what had just happened. "What did I say?"

Russell let loose a soft, breathy laugh. "Man, every time I get a little confused you say just the right thing..." And he pulled Timmy back to him, holding him a little closer, a little tighter, too tight, Timmy still lost in a state of confusion.

"Oh, that's...that's nice...remember about the internal organs and the breathing, you can loosen up a bit, I won't run away...what on earth did I say, Russell?"

----------

Timmy was hesitant in leaving Russell, but he had somehow convinced him to stay in the office for at least a short while, to keep up appearances. He wasn't dressed professionally, and he wasn't well groomed, but he could leave on his lunch hour to take care of that.

Timmy stopped short briefly to look upon the front desk and Russell's new hire; the young man gave him a look that he had a difficult time reading, but it finally clicked. This man seemed at once both completely disenchanted with life as well as overwhelmingly disgusted with whatever turn of fate must have led him to working for one Mr. Russell Dunbar. Hunched over, hair mussed in brown tumbling past his eyes, day-old stubble, tie and coat in slightly crooked disarray. Recent college graduate perhaps? Didn't know what he'd been in for? Timmy empathized, although he'd usually done a better job of keeping a poker face for office visitors...this fellow had taken off the mask rather quickly, it seemed. He didn't care. He'd given up.

They exchanged just this look, perhaps a subtle, understanding connection of battered souls, but no words as Timmy left the lobby and started down the hall.

He found Adam pacing the halls nervously, and the men paused a moment, nodding in one another's direction; but something on both of their faces caused them to stop and turn back to one another.

In unison they began to ask: "Is everything--?" They laughed gently.

Adam spoke first. "You guys were pretty, uhm...out there last night."

"Yes, well. Sorry for the, uh...the phone call."

"No, man, you guys really helped out. Thanks." It seemed he had more to say, but he was hesitating. But as Timmy began to walk away, perceiving the conversation as having come to an end, Adam hurried after him. "Hey, Tim?"

"Yes?"

"Well...Jen's having a really awful day, and she won't talk to me at all, she won't answer my texts. I really hate to even ask, but if you've got nothing better to do...it seems like you have a knack lately for getting her to--"

"Say no more."

The men parted ways again, but Adam interjected one final thought, almost carelessly, flippantly: "Keep an eye on Russell, okay?"

Timmy turned back to Adam, catching his arm. "How...how do you mean?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, it was harder for him to screw up with you around here, I guess. He's been skipping meetings, missing a lot of days, more than usual...that's probably the tenth assistant in as many weeks, I don't know, man, wouldn't wanna get on anybody's bad side, he's probably--"

Timmy had already proceeded to storm back towards the lobby, leaving Adam behind.

"Oh. Well, a little rude," Adam shrugged, heading back for his office.

Timmy felt a great lack of control these days. He couldn't control his family's reactions. He couldn't control Russell's parents and the impending fallout upon the Dunbar men confronting one another about his new role in Russell's life.

But maybe, he thought, marching his way back towards the man seated at his old desk, just maybe he could bend one little thing in their favor...

"Pardon."

The man was a little surprised to see Timmy back in front of him. "Oh. Yeah?"

"I'm sorry if this is a bit forward of me, but I couldn't help noticing your air of misery and defeat and I thought I might...well...you see, my name is--"

"Timmy. The other guy said, yeah."

Timmy wasn't sure where he was going with this, but he was tired of Russell coming home declaring the loss of yet another assistant, and now more than ever there was too much on the line...as much as he loved him, at a certain point this had to stop. If he couldn't talk sense into Russell, perhaps he could come at this from another angle.

"Listen, I...what was your name?"

"Kevin."

"Kevin. I used to sit at this desk. For five long...very long years."

Kevin sprung to attention; for the first time since Timmy had seen him, he showed a genuine sign of interest, his voice amplifying dramatically. "You worked for this asshole for five years?" He paused a moment, realizing something. "Wait, you were sleeping with the guy. THAT guy. Who are you? How does that happen? We're talking about THAT guy, in that office over there, right?!"

Timmy had to refocus a bit; he hadn't anticipated such a change in character, and so quickly.

"Uhm...okay, slow down just a bit, shall we? Let me explain some things about my husband--"

"YOUR HUSBAND?! How the hell do you work for a guy like that and then..."

He carried on for a time as Timmy rubbed his temple slowly. Finally the ranting seemed to come to an end and Timmy found his opportunity to carry on slowly...cautiously.

"I assure you, he used to be worse." He put up a hand in Kevin's face, seeing his mouth dare to open in preparation of another verbal spewing. "LET ME SPEAK."

Kevin sank back in his chair, eyeing Timmy harshly but with great interest.

"Now, I know Russell...Mr. Dunbar is a handful. He's loud, he's abrasive, he's childish and he's often terrible at his job, leaving a large deal of responsibility to fall upon your shoulders. Still, somehow, the majority of your job requirements have little to do with anything one would presume such a job would entail, am I on the mark so far?"

"Yesterday he called me buttmunch and made me take out all the red M&Ms...y'know, from one of those big bags?"

"Well, of course, he won't eat the red ones."

"I accidentally left a red one in the bag and he walked out here and dumped the entire thing on my desk."

"I'll have a talk with him. Now, Kevin--"

"I'm still finding M&Ms everywhere! I mean, here's one right here!" Kevin held up an M&M in Timmy's face. Timmy grabbed the small piece of chocolate, popped it in his mouth, and continued speaking as he chewed and swallowed.

"Now, Kevin, you must understand. I realize better than anyone how tyrannical Russell can be, and I really can't answer that question, the 'how can you work for such a man for so long and then marry him' question, there's no real answer, love works in mysterious ways, you see. But I will tell you this: he's a good man, Kevin. He's just....well, he's an idiot."

Kevin stood, coming to the front of the desk and leaning against it gently with a sigh. "Listen, Timmy, is it?"

"Yes."

"I respect that you're standing here trying to...well, I don't really get what you're trying to do. Defend your husband, I guess?"

"Not...not defend him. Can I be blunt with you?"

"Shoot."

"I don't know you. I don't give a flying...fig what you think of him, I really don't, everyone hates Russell, I'm not really his biggest fan much of the time. Therefor I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you that as of late he's averaged, I'd say, a new assistant, oh, every two weeks or so? And this can't be faring well on him with the company--"

"Isn't that his name on the building?"

"Nepotism can only get one so far, and right now I'm afraid..." Timmy almost lost his footing a moment, but recovered valiantly. "I'm afraid he may be on rather rocky ground, at that. So if you could just give this thing a fair shake..."

Kevin crossed his arms and rocked gently on his heels, intrigued. He rose a brow, pursing his lips thoughtfully. Hmmm. Something about the man standing in front of him read of honest desperation, a wholesome sincerity, and that meant something to him. Then again, this week had sucked. The guy in that office...he sucked. What to do, what to do?

"How much pull do you have with your man in there?"

"These days?" Timmy shrugged. "I wager I can keep him in line...you report to me, Kevin, and I'll wrangle him in. We can be a team, here, Kevin."

Kevin sighed out heavily. "I don't know, man, I..."

"Don't quit on me, now, Kevin!"

"Okay. Okay, I'll give it another week, but--"

"Very well, then. Good doing business with you." Timmy shot out a hand and the men shook on it.

Just then Russell's door opened and he emerged slowly...

"You, uh...you still here, Tim?"

"Oh, yes, I...I was just becoming acquainted with your new assistant." Timmy smiled in Kevin's direction before retreating back towards Russell. When they were face to face, he spoke in a near whisper. "Be nice to this one. I have faith in you."

Russell looked from Timmy to Kevin and back again, confused and speechless. Timmy touched Russell lightly on the cheek. "Give Kevin my number, won't you?"

"W-why would he need your num--"

Timmy turned to Kevin once more. "Last name Patel, I'm still in the Rolodex." With this, he turned and proceeded to walk away without another word, Russell watching his every step in dazed confusion. When he was gone, he turned tail towards Kevin, who was presently beaming in amusement -- yeah. Yeah, this job was suddenly a bit more fun.

"What the hell did, uh...did he just say to you?"

Kevin cleared his throat, erasing the smile from his face, and returned to his desk, pretending to have work to do. "Nothing."

And so Russell sputtered his way back to his office.

As Timmy had said, his number was still in the Rolodex. Kevin wrote it down and shoved it safely into his pocket.

----------

Audrey had just finished placing Shea down for her nap when she entered the kitchen. She gazed upon the site before her and clapped her hands, rubbing them together in satisfaction. Rows and rows...of brownies.

She'd started baking that morning after Jeff went to work. In between baby duties, she'd preheated, measured, stirred, and cooked her little heart out...six batches so far and counting. She looked in the oven to ensure the next batch was still baking right along; it was, and she closed the oven door as her phone rang, answering it with a cheery: "Hello? Oh, hey, honey!"

"Hey, what's cookin'?"

"Brownies."

Jeff took a moment to process Audrey's response, not expecting such a literal answer to his greeting. "Uh...brownies?"

"Mmhm, and lots of 'em. Just how you like them, too. You are gonna be one happy camper when you get home."

When Jeff had suggested a new hobby, this isn't what he'd had in mind. This was just the same old crazy slightly repackaged. What the hell was going on with his wife?

"So...there's that," said Jeff, head slowly sinking against his hand. "Uh...how's the baby?"

"Good. We're good. Everything's good."

"Good." Nah, this wasn't good. Something was very wrong, here.

Audrey knew it, too. Although she wore a finely plastered on grin, she knew she was compensating for something. She needed something. She just wasn't...sure...what.

"Time to start on another batch. See you later, honey."

"What...? You've probably made enough, Aud..." But the line had gone dead. Jeff sat his phone down very slowly, hissing out through his teeth. Crazy Audrey was not his...particularly favorite variety of Audrey. Was this a pregnancy thing? Would this be over soon?

At least he was getting brownies out of this. But how many brownies did one man need?

She needed help. He had to figure something out.

----------

Timmy had knocked several times on Jen's door, and received no reply. He had, however, heard faint sobbing, and decided finally to take a chance, turning the nob slowly and allowing himself inside to find Jen laying on the sofa with a blanket to her chin. The table in front of her was covered in utter sorrow: tissues, empty ice cream cartons and candy wrappers, and the TV was on but muted, casting a light upon her face in the darkened room.

Well, Timmy would have none of this. The first thing he did was flick on the light, causing Jen to flinch, having been outed from her comfortable cave-like darkness.

"Adam, stop." Her voice came out snuffled, the result of her day-long, off-and-on cryfest.

"Not Adam."

Jen craned her neck just a bit. "Ugh, what are you doing here?"

"Warm welcome, thank you. I let myself in, you didn't seem receptive to my requests for entry, hope you don't mind."

"What do you want, Timmy?"

Timmy spoke as he marched his way to Jen's side. "You're in a slump. We're going to pull you out. Up, up, up."

"Shut up, up, up."

"Jennifer, you've hit a tripwire and we must regain your footing. You did it for me, and...well, that ended in near disaster at every turn, didn't it? But as long as we don't leave this room, we should be safe. Regardless, I'm here to return the favor."

Timmy grabbed Jen's hand, pulling her painfully upward. She'd been laying in the same position for hours, and sitting up hurt a little.

"You suck, Timmy." She tried to grant him a weak, half-hearted smile, but it didn't quite work. Still, she'd conveyed the idea. "Thanks, I guess."

Timmy's next orders of business were turning off the television and cleaning up the table. Jen watched him go about his business studiously, and for awhile said nothing...finally she couldn't stand it.

"You don't have to clean up after me."

Timmy had already finished when he sat beside Jen. "Force of habit. It's funny, I've found that Russell's something of a neat freak, generally. In his home life, anyway. But less so at work, and less so at home now that I'm around. So essentially...not when he has a built-in assistant."

"You're not his--"

"Yes, I know I'm not. You know what I mean." He patted Jen on what he guessed was the knee through crumpled blanket, aiming to redirect the attention back onto her. "Now what seems to be the problem? Why all of this? Drowning your sorrows in ice cream, laying in dark rooms watching bad daytime dramas?"

Jen pouted, eyeing Timmy reluctantly. She shook her head a little.

"Come on, you can tell me. I'm your Timbo..."

Her frown threatened to turn, the edges of her mouth turning up ever so slightly.

"Your Timslice...your Timmy-limmy-"

Jen turned her face down to cover her smile and a silent laugh, and Timmy laughed gently in satisfaction. When she dared to look at him, he opened his mouth to finish: "-ding-dong." She smacked him in the arm, but this seemed to have worked. She was relaxed now...still not all there, but relaxed and ready to talk.

"Why were you high?" she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "What did Russell do?"

"Yes, well...that's enough, isn't it? Russell did it in that sort of backwards, well-meaning way of his. I don't know, it doesn't matter. Did you ever figure out the weight of the moon?"

"I didn't have anything better to do. Found out I'd weigh a lot less on the moon." Jen looked down at herself. "And I just downed like, a million calories, so I'd better get going..."

"Just consider it practice for the baby weight."

"There's not gonna be any baby weight, Timmy. I'm not cut out to be a mom, who am I kidding?"

Jen's face was sad, and Timmy found himself growing sad for her, in turn. "Is that what this is all about? You're doubting your abilities as a mother?" She rubbed her arms, not answering, merely sniffling. "Whatever for? What on earth brought this about?"

Jen glared at Timmy, as though he knew the answer.

"What? What did I do?"

"You sang to Shea."

"Last night? Well, Jennifer, I had no idea what I was even doing last night. Do you mean to say you think my parenting abilities are somehow more refined than yours because I sang to a child while high on marijuana?"

Jen paused in reflection. "That does sound kind of stupid, doesn't it?"

"Yes!"

"Well, I don't know! I mean, Liz said--"

"You're going to listen to something Liz said?!"

"I don't know, Timmy! Look at me, look at my life, what am I doing?!" Jen grew more emotive and louder by the second, arms whipping about dramatically. She'd needed somebody to scream at, and he'd provided a convenient outlet in this instant. Timmy was here...she'd scream at Timmy. "I mean, it took me how long to suck it up and get married? Seven years! And that's just 'cause some old guy in a hospital died, otherwise we'd still just be stringin' it along! That's all I do is string things along!"

"Well, I don't know, you would have eventually--"

"I work freelance. And by work I mean I don't work. I went to college to not work. My job anymore is basically babysitting Adam! Is that my purpose in life? Seriously? I can't keep a houseplant without killing it, I wanna strangle Adam's damn bird whenever it makes a noise, and I want a baby?! A baby makes noise! A baby makes a lot of noise! And I cry when I gain an extra pound, and a baby adds a lot of extra pounds! What am I thinking?!"

"Okay, STOP IT!" Jen shrank back slightly. Timmy wouldn't ordinarily do what he was about to do, but he figured the situation called for it. "Shall we compare life notes, Jennifer? Your job is babysitting your husband, is it? You wasted your college education? I went to Harvard. My job for the last five years was, for all intents and purposes, babysitting the man I now call my husband. Perhaps you've never gotten paid for your services, but at least you've always felt a sense of love and fulfillment, whereas I've spent endless nights crying myself to sleep."

"Well...well, yeah, but--"

"And you didn't string anything along, you were merely satisfied with your relationship as it stood. Jennifer...when I came to this city, do you know what I found?"

"Winos and street rats?"

"What...? I don't...yes, but...no. I found a vibrant young woman, full of life. You're a prime example of what a loving, committed relationship looks like, and I've never once seen you falter from that...and when the time comes, that's the basis on which the two of you will grow together as parents, Jennifer."

Timmy's words seemed to sink in. Jen's face lightened gradually, her smile meager yet sincere.

"Besides," Timmy continued, "you're going to compare birds and houseplants to babies? Come now, really."

Jen managed to laugh at her own stupidity. "Yeah, well, I--"

From the other room came a rather loud squawk!!

Jen turned in the direction of the noise. "SHUT UP, MAMBO, I SWEAR TO GOD!!" She groaned, plunking back against the couch and allowing her head to collapse in Timmy's direction. "I really hate that bird..."

----------

Jeff sat in the diner alone. He'd come here straight after work and sat here now, staring down a pitiful looking plate of salad...damn it, he was letting Audrey's nagging get the better of him. He'd smothered the stuff in dressing and bacon bits, but it still looked like crap. He'd deviated from his usual task of attempting to devour the whole thing in several minutes flat, instead nibbling feebly at each limp leaf.

Nothing had really changed, but the tides seemed to be turning. Last night's flop of an evening had weighed heavily on his mood, and had revealed a number of things. Audrey needed something...but what? She didn't need to be filling their kitchen with baked goods, that was for damn sure. He needed to somehow make everything right, and he knew he couldn't...and that's what drove him the craziest. That's what always got the better of him, not being able to fix things. He was growing tense, wound tight and liable to spring forth and punch the next person who dared speak to him.

"Why the long face, Donkey Kong?"

A figure slid in on the other side of the booth, and Jeff let off a weak grunt, gathering the willpower to examine Russell; the guy always had that look about him lately, like he was in the middle of some crisis. What was his deal, anyway?

"Who sat on your tutu, princess?"

"Mm, 'princess,' that's the best ya got, seriously? Why aren't you eating your roughage?" Russell grabbed a piece of wilting lettuce, looking at it with a frown. "Wife nagging you again?"

"Was gonna order real food. Then her voice kept repeating on loop in my brain, on and on about cholesterol and being here for the kid, like nails on a chalkboard..."

"Damn it, is that why that happens, it's a marriage thing? You people forced the Kool-Aid down my throat. Can't do anything without hearing his stupid voice anymore."

"And the voice in your head is British, then, that's gotta be even more irritating. That'd be like hearing Audrey on repeat blabbing about blood pressure...except she'd be British."

"Yeah, well. What are you doing here, anyway, shouldn't you be home with the wife?"

"Shouldn't you be home with the...man wife?"

Russell let out an irritated sigh. "Husband, he's my hus--"

"I know what he is, I'm just givin' ya crap."

An awkward silence, and finally Russell offered, "Guess I'm in avoidance mode, what's your excuse?"

Jeff didn't feel like discussing such deeply sensitive and personal emotional issues with Russell. "Why are you avoiding Timmy?"

"What's it to you?"

Jeff shrugged a shoulder, shoving away his plate with a disgusted, "Ugh." He leaned back, considering. "My options right now are eating this salad, going home, or listening to your bullcrap."

"That bad, huh?"

"You lucked out, all aboard the share your feelings express."

"You wouldn't be interested." Russell forced a laugh, turning his head down with a shake. He recovered, waving over a waitress and ordering something dumb -- a chocolate milkshake and fries, and Jeff looked him over curiously. As she walked away, Russell brushed back his hair and looked around, nerves getting the best of him. Well, this sucked...he hadn't really thought this one through. Sitting across from Jeff, forcing conversation...he'd ordered food. He was stuck now. He was an idiot.

"Try me," said Jeff. "Thought things were going okay with you and your little...what'd you call him?"

Russell turned his head down, avoiding eye contact. He'd somehow neglected to take into account how awkward things still were between him and Jeff these days. One wrong move and he was out of there. "I don't...I don't know."

Jeff felt the laugh welling up in his chest and the snide grin gracing his face; he was trying to play the nice guy. He was really making an effort, he...ah, screw it. "Your, uh...cream puff, was it?"

Yeah, that'd do it. Russell stood, prepared to leave...Jeff could see the embarrassment on his face, and for once he felt something akin to shame. Wow, Russell was really on edge right now...he really needed thrown a bone or something, huh? And so Jeff swallowed his pride.

"I'm here because Audrey's making brownies."

Russell froze in place. Wait....what? "That's...stupid."

"Yeah, well. Why are you here?"

Russell thought a moment. He cringed slightly. "I guess I'm here because I ate a brownie."

"That's stupider. Sit, Dunbar." Once Russell had eased back into his seat, Jeff carried on. "Seriously, why are you avoiding Timmy? He's a good kid, I mean, if I..." He cleared his throat, tapped on the table several times as he thought carefully, ensuring he spoke correctly. "If I were to lean that direction, which of course I don't, but if I uh...if I did, I sure as hell wouldn't avoid going home to a guy like...I mean, he's sure a great...he's a real nice piece of..." He shook his head, looking down in slight repulsion. "I'm trying, here."

Russell stared on, a bit bewildered. "Uh, yeah, ya sure are. 'A' for effort, buddy."

Jeff leaned forward slightly. He dropped the pretense, speaking in earnest, now. "Nah, I like him, I do. You did good. Kind of a dweeb..."

"I know." Russell felt himself relaxing; Jeff really was trying and had willed himself to look like a fool for his benefit. That was a new one. The heck was happening, here? He figured he owed him a bit more conversation...plus, he really wanted that damn milkshake. "Yeah, I did something stupid."

"This is nothing new."

"I drugged Timmy last night."

"You don't have to drug the ones that already sleep with you willingly."

"Not like that--"

"Is this a part of that whole weird kink thing you guys are into, or...?"

"What?! No! Dude, pot brownies, we had pot brownies!"

Jeff took a moment to refocus. Ah. Yes. Okay. "So he's pissed about the grass?"

"No, it's..." Whatever. Out with it. "While I was high I sort of called my dad and told him about Timmy."

Jeff's reaction was underwhelming...no facial deviations, no hint of snark. "You mean your parents didn't know about...all that?" Russell shook his head. "So he knows now, what's the big deal?"

Russell leaned forward. He folded his hands and began to speak in a flat, direct tone: "How old are you, Jeff, huh? Old enough, old man, yeah?"

"Where are you going with this?"

"Your dad is probably a pretty old school guy, right? Set in his ways?"

Jeff had no idea where this was going. He allowed Russell to carry on with his little tirade.

"So imagine one day you're walking along, life is pretty good, you think you've got it all together. And then somebody comes and smacks you upside the face." Russell unfolded his hands, hitting them firm upon the table, causing Jeff to pull back slightly. "You've just been SMACKED by reality. You weren't who you thought you were, man. Maybe you never were. Maybe you've been lying to yourself for years."

"...Is this about you liking guys?"

"Put yourself in my place, man! Would you wanna have that conversation with your parents? At my age? Really? I barely got through that conversation with myself!"

Wow. That...made a lot of sense. Jeff watched as Russell leaned back, exasperated, smoothing down his hair and rubbing his neck in an attempt to calm his nerves.

"Hey, Russell, I...yeah, okay. I think I get it. If I suddenly realized I had a thing for some guy...well, first of all, I think Audrey might be into that."

Russell rose a brow curiously.

"Well, I mean, I'd be into it if she brought home a chick, I figure it works in reverse."

"Well, yeah, probably. Let me know if that happens, by the way."

"What, me and some guy?"

Russell flinched in shock. "What?! No!"

"Oh, you meant...the other..."

"The other thing, the chick thing, yeah! Anyway, why is she baking brownies? Why aren't you home eating brownies?"

"It's a long story. Maybe it's a midlife-crisis, pregnancy hormone thing, I don't know. She thinks she can sell 'em to the neighbors. Our neighbors hate us! ....You want some brownies?"

"No, I'm brownied out."

"Come on."

"No--"

"I have twelve dozen brownies in my kitchen."

"Twelve dozen? What the hell's going on with your wife, man?!"

It was at this point that the waitress returned with Russell's order, plunking down his plate of fries and shake, which he wasted no time in beginning to suck down; the chocolately goodness felt monumentally soothing right now. This is what Russell would always do in times of stress -- cling to something childlike. It tended to help a bit...just a bit.

Jeff grabbed a fry from Russell's plate and took to chewing. So much better than the junk he'd been attempting to eat. "I'll make you a deal."

"What's that?"

"I'll go home and face Audrey's bakery if you go home and face your dilemma. Anyway, how's staying away from Timmy solving the problem? You like Tim...that's the problem, isn't it?"

Russell couldn't argue this logic. He should be home with Timmy...he needed him right now. It was just that old shame creeping in; shame that he was scared to face reality. Fear that Timmy would be ashamed of him for his cowardice. He couldn't sit here in this stupid diner all night.

Jeff shamelessly grabbed a handful of fries, now.

"Hey!"

"Payment for this conversation."

----------

Timmy was in the kitchen pouring his second glass of wine when he heard Russell coming through the front door; he abandoned his alcohol, making his way towards the living room. The men met one another in a silent staring match, as if they could communicate in thought alone.

What now? they asked one another telepathically. As if they'd both somehow received and understood the question, they shrugged in unison, approaching one another with slow steps, meeting in the center of the room.

"Have you eaten?" asked Timmy.

"Sort of...not really."

"I'll start on dinner, then."

Russell snatched at Timmy's arm, preventing him from turning away. "Nah, I...I need to do something first."

Timmy was sure he understood...the look on Russell's face was cold and apprehensive. Timmy placed a hand light against his cheek. "You can do this, Russell."

Russell moaned low in the back of his throat...but he gathered every ounce of courage left within him as he reached into his pocket, retrieving his phone in a white hot death grip.

He kissed Timmy deeply for good measure, a final reminder of just where his priorities lied, and hightailed it in the direction of the bedroom. "Stay here. Gonna go call my dad. Don't worry, he can't shoot me over the phone. Don't have that technology yet."

Russell closed the bedroom door and Timmy made his way to the sofa, sitting alone, restless, nervous.

Then, remembering his glass of wine, he went to the kitchen to retrieve it.

He returned with the entire bottle.

Chapter 19: Russell's Dad

Notes:

Lots of R/T this chapter. If you are still here reading this ridiculously long ROE fic...you are wonderful and I love you, I mean it! x

Russell got as far as the bed before collapsing, knees curling to his chest, a small whimper escaping his throat. He grabbed a pillow, covering his face to suppress a scream -- he'd put on his best act of bravery for Timmy. He couldn't appear shaken, he couldn't let on just how broken he was. He needn't have bothered -- Timmy knew. He always knew.

Very little in this world scared Russell as much as his father. Emotional vulnerability? If Russell had a phobia, that was it, and his father brought that on in spades. He was usually pretty good at covering with humor, putting on the great facade, but not with his parents. Somehow, that small child in him always came seeping back out.

Over the years he'd grown rather adept at playing the game with his father. Despite the dismissals, the lack of approval, he'd follow him around like a puppy seeking table scraps and pats on the head, relishing each bit of recognition...he was hungry. But over time it had broken him down, bit by bit.

What he aimed to do tonight, phone clenched painfully in his hand, was different. He was no longer asking for recognition, simply to be seen by a man blinded by his own sense of self worth. He needed acceptance, and this was a much taller order. His father had never accepted him at face value. As soon as he was born, the paternity battle started; it took years for him to give up and admit that yeah, Russell was probably his kid. The least he could do for him was toss him into a company position so he wouldn't end up flailing through life, directionless, penniless. And hey, it was good for his company image -- Franklin Dunbar, family man.

Russell felt ridiculous, curled so tightly on the bed, trying desperately to pull himself together. What was he so afraid of? Why did he allow his father to have so much power over him?

He had to get it over with; he had to make the call.

----------

Timmy looked at the bottle in his hand, considering his options. He felt tears begin to well up in his eyes as he sat the bottle down on the table, breath shaking. He hated feeling so helpless, but what was he to do? He still feared facing his own parents. He'd been avoiding the subject at every turn, doing his best to shove it from his mind, but it was getting harder day by day. Of course, he couldn't say he understood precisely what Russell was going through...they were different people from different walks of life, but they were both rather lost. They'd merely gotten lost together in the act of finding one another.

But whatever Russell was going through in this moment, Timmy somehow felt empathically. This was a rather new sensation for him -- sensing Russell's emotions so deeply. It never used to be this way; once upon a time they'd have been able to allow the other's feelings to roll off like so much water from a duck's back. Not anymore. The more they cared, the deeper the other's pain stuck. Timmy had always tried not to internalize the depth of Russell's sorrows. He'd always known how deeply scarred Russell was, but he hadn't allowed himself to feel the pain, too embittered by so much poor treatment at the hands of his former employer.

Knowing these things about Russell, feelings this pain made it all the easier to forgive him his transgressions.

The bottle of wine on the table was tempting, but Timmy reached into his pocket instead, pulling out his phone. He'd remembered something from last night, something hazy, and scrolled to his photos...and there they were. Several pictures Russell had taken of them the previous evening in their intoxicated state, still happy and blissfully unaware. Photos of the two of them smiling so warmly at the camera...at each other...kissing, with such a blatant lack of inhibition, free and easy.

He took the last photo in the set, this pure, simple kiss, and attached it to a new text message, hitting send. He looked behind his shoulder, towards the bedroom, before releasing his phone upon the table.

"You can do this, Russell."

----------

Russell had managed to pull himself into an upright position, cross-legged in bed, leaning pitifully against the headboard. It was the best he could muster. He held his phone in front of his face...staring into it. Petrified. His arm was beginning to hurt. Whenever the screen dimmed, his finger would find the strength to turn it back on, but that's as far as he would get...he couldn't make the call.

He couldn't do it.

And then, the screen flashed: new text. Timmy.

"The hell?" Come on, they were only a room apart, why was he...? Oh. Russell stared at the photo for some time, lost in it...and everything became clear. He let out a deep, quivering breath, rubbed at eyes that threatened tears, and took to his feet, pacing the room nervously.

He could do this.

Russell's finger navigated back to his father's name, hovering there.

Just push it. Just call. You already fucked up, he already knows.

Why couldn't he push the damn button?

Just deal with it. Come on. Face the rejection. Face how much he hates you. Face what a disappointment you are.

"Fuck you," Russell muttered, just under his breath. "Failed you again, huh?" This was the part of the conversation he couldn't have with his dad on the line...and so he began to talk to the name on the screen. "No, no, no...don't talk back." His voice began to grow a little louder. "Let me tell you how it's gonna be, Dad."

----------

Timmy's anxiety was getting the better of him by the time he heard Russell begin to scream. He made a mad dash for the bedroom, but hesitated a moment in opening the door, breath catching as he listened, trying to make clear Russell's angered words on the other side...

"God damn it!! You think you can do whatever you want to whoever you want and you don't have to pay the fucking piper, you piece of shit?! Well, little Rusty's grown up now, asshole!!"

With this, Timmy rushed through the door just as Russell relinquished his phone from his grasp, thrusting it with a great deal of force across the room. "FUCK YOU!!"

"Russell!"

Russell turned towards Timmy, breath hard and labored. Upon seeing him, the anger in his voice subsided, mixing instantly with tearful desperation. "I couldn't call him." He sank to the floor. "I'm sorry, I can't...I can't--" And all the tears he'd been holding in for far too long began to flow free.

Timmy collapsed to the floor beside Russell and sat breathless, scared to touch him for a moment...and then he fell against him, simply holding him, not knowing what else to do. Timmy had never heard Russell sob quite so deeply, so painfully and unabashed; that he could even break so fully was somehow a revelation, leaving Timmy stunned, and he felt he had no means of comforting him. Perhaps sitting here together was enough, and so they did...for a long while Russell cried on the floor, Timmy holding him, simply letting him cry. Yes...that was enough.

When finally Russell's tears began to ease, he spoke to Timmy, very softly: "I'm sorry."

Timmy ran a hand gently against Russell's back. "You've no reason to be."

Russell managed to pick himself up enough to look at Timmy; he was looking at him with such great concern. No hint of disappointment, no bit of shame or judgement.

"But...I didn't..."

"It's all right. You faced your fears, you tried. Whatever happens, everything will be fine." Timmy looked deeply into Russell's eyes, wanting his next words to come across as unequivocally true: "Everything will be fine, because I love you."

"I..." Russell looked deep in contemplation. He sniffled, took one final, deep breath...and he turned unexpectedly, taking to his feet with some effort, leaving Timmy alone on the floor. "I need to find my phone."

"Your...phone?" This seemed an arbitrary concern in this moment.

Russell was doing his best to cover the tears in his voice as he searched for his missing phone, as though he wasn't in the middle of an emotional breakdown at all. "I paid a lot of money for that phone. And I didn't spring for the replacement plan, that's how they get you."

Timmy stood with a sigh. Whatever Russell was doing, Timmy was somehow falling right in line, his bickering button having been automatically activated. "Why wouldn't you pay for the replacement plan? We've talked about this, after you lost the last phone and I had to spend all day on the line with customer service..."

Russell found his phone, turning it on and shaking it in Timmy's face in a sort of mild victory. "Well, you're the one who keeps telling me to be frugal!"

"Because you keep bringing home nonsense like katanas and golf clubs!"

"Hey, those were top of the line clubs!"

"You don't play golf!"

The phone in Russell's hand rang. Both men stood frozen, looking in the direction of Russell's hand, and he brought it to his face...it was him. His father. He looked to Timmy, brow furrowed, panic setting back in.

Timmy nodded gently, urging Russell to answer the phone.

And so he did.

"H-hello?"

"Russell. How the hell are ya, kid? Been trying to get ahold of you, listen--"

"I can explain," Russell's voice came out soft, too soft. Timmy had taken to leading him to the bed, and they sat on the edge together.

"Ah, no need. You sounded a little...off last night. Just wanted to make sure you're keeping yourself together. You still in one piece?"

For a second, there seemed a glimmer of hope; genuine concern for his well-being. Russell couldn't quite place the feeling this gave him. He tread carefully: "I'm...I'm fine."

"Good to hear it. You know what a hassle it'd be trying to fill your position? Seriously, I don't have that kind of time, you know how busy I am. Keep your head clear."

Hope diminished.

"But that doesn't mean you shouldn't have a little fun once in awhile! Get a little drunk, leave cryptic voicemails. Hell, last weekend in Monte Carlo...have you seen that new little number I'm with? Speaking of which--"

"Voice...voicemail? I left you a voicemail?" Russell looked to Timmy in confusion, who shrugged with a shake of his head.

"You don't remember? Must've been a good night with that little chickie of yours."

"Uh, chickie?" Russell's face was racked in confusion, and Timmy couldn't stand it any longer. He pulled Russell's hand down, touching the phone, placing the call on loudspeaker.

"I could barely understand what you were on about, what did you say this new one's name is? Tammy? Kimmy?"

The men looked to one another, wide-eyed. Oh...my...god. Russell was stunned; finally Timmy nudged him, reminding him to speak again.

"Oh, uh, yeah...yeah, Kimmy. My...my wife, Kimmy."

"After you split from that last little trollop, Liz, I knew you were headed down the same path as your old man. Love 'em and leave 'em, isn't that right?"

"Ah...well, I dunno, Dad. Kimmy just might be a keeper."

"Who's a keeper? You're gonna learn pretty fast, son, that marriage is one big mistake."

Russell's demeanor was quickly changing; where once he'd been incomprehensibly nervous, he was growing more and more aggravated. His father's words weren't the least bit dissimilar to ones he might have uttered not so long ago...but things were different now. And Russell was growing more frustrated by the second.

"Well, you sure keep on making that mistake, don't ya, Dad? How many times have you been married, now?"

"Ah, the young ones like the wedding ring from the sugar daddies...they just get bored after awhile. Come on, you know how this works...embrace it! You both get what you want out of the deal. Why the hell not?"

Russell seethed silently for a bit too long; Timmy touched a hand softly to his leg, willing him to continue. You're doing fine. Don't stop now.

"Okay, well...yeah, I used to be all over that. And maybe that's cool for you, but that's not what I want. I love hi--...her. I'm in love this time, it's not like that anymore."

"Now, Russell, don't confuse lust for love. I've made that mistake before, and I know when you see that pretty peach for the first time, you get a little foggy eyed, you lose clarity. But in a few months' time--"

"It's not like that."

"Well, whatever you do, don't let her trap you with a child. That's all you need is a paternity suit, that ends the marriage a hell of a lot faster. Oh, well, you should know, you were there. It's a wonder I stuck with your mother as long as I did after all that hullabaloo...she just couldn't let that one go."

Russell grit his teeth, letting loose a low growl before allowing himself to continue as calmly as he could.

"Dad, you've...you've said enough, okay. I'm not foggy eyed, I didn't just meet...her, this has been a long time coming. And yeah, I know, you lost the paternity suit, you're stuck with me, that's...that's just great, Dad. All I need is for you to be happy for me! For once in your life!"

"Now, Russell--"

"This is probably the only thing I've done right in my life, this is the only thing I've ever been this sure about! I don't expect you to understand. You never loved Mom, you've never loved me, you've never loved anyone but yourself, you piece of--"

Timmy placed a hand firm against Russell's mouth and watched his eyes close, his body shaking softly back down, ensuring he wouldn't say anything else out of line. Timmy removed his hand, moving it slowly up to the top of Russell's head, stroking back his hair gently. Their eyes met as Russell heard his father's voice again.

"Russell, if you have something to say to me..."

Russell spoke softly, voice mellow, contained. No more outbursts. No sense in that. "Nope. Not a damn thing, Dad. But, uh, listen. Next time you're in town, maybe we should meet up, y'know, get together?" Russell extended a hand to Timmy's face, running his fingers slowly down the length of his cheek. "Maybe you can meet Kimmy..."

"Well, I'm sure she's a looker."

Russell laughed softly, eyes piercing into those of his husband; he was done with his father...it was all for Timmy, now. "Yeah, Dad, she's a looker, all right." He allowed a devious smile to form across his face. "And I could tell you a thing or two about the things she does in the bedroom that would knock your socks off."

Timmy mouthed a silent, "What?!" and Russell rested his forehead against Timmy's chest with a suppressed laugh. Timmy held Russell's head...whatever worked...whatever was keeping him together.

"Good going, kid! Enjoy it while it lasts. Gotta run, remember what I said, pull yourself together, huh?"

And so the call was ended without so much as a goodbye, and Russell thrust the phone back upon the floor, head still pressed upon Timmy's chest, no longer suppressing his laughter.

"What was that?" asked Timmy. "Are you quite all right?"

Russell picked himself up, and Timmy saw that his laughter was mixed with something else -- a lot of something elses -- he appeared distraught, laughter covering the return of tears. He was conflicted.

"That was weird, man. He didn't even know!"

"Well, I suppose this makes me Kimmy, now."

"You into that, should I start calling you that?"

"Please don't."

"We could get you some high heels, nice little skirt, you could--"

Timmy shoved Russell playfully back upon the bed. "End of discussion."

Russell laughed a bit more until finally the laughter dissipated, leaving him in quiet contemplation, staring at a blank ceiling. "That guy's me in a few years, Tim. Up until a few years ago, that guy...that was me. The hell do I do, now?"

Timmy sank down beside Russell, letting out a breath. "Well. All you can do is be the man your father wasn't. Be a good husband--"

"Don't know how to do that."

"You're already doing it." Timmy placed a hand back to Russell's hair, stroking gently, and smiled softly. Russell managed a smile back.

"Be a good husband and a good father. That's all you can do."

"C'mon, I missed how many years of that kid's life? Who am I kidding, I don't even know if she's mine."

Timmy took to his feet, extending a hand to pull Russell up. "Come with me. I have something to show you."

----------

The men sat on the sofa, staring at the sealed letter in Timmy's hands.

"Is it what I think it is?" asked Timmy. "The test results?"

"Yeah, took long enough." Russell squirmed nervously. "When did it get here?"

"This morning, I take it. It was here when I arrived home...of course I didn't open it, I didn't think it my place. So..." He urged Russell to take the letter, but Russell's hand shook.

"I can't do it, you do it."

Timmy nodded, sliding a finger against the seal of the envelope. He paused short. "Perhaps...perhaps we should wait."

Russell began to shake his head. "No, wait? What?"

"For Emily, perhaps Emily should be here for this."

Russell eased down, relaxing against the sofa. "Yeah...yeah, okay."

"We could take her out to dinner as I suggested before all of...before we..."

"Yeah..."

Unspoken acknowledgement of their fallout not so long ago; they'd get there, work out all the wrinkles. There were clearly more important factors at play, right now.

"We'll call her tomorrow," Timmy concluded, wrapping an arm around Russell's shoulders. "We'll have our answer soon enough. For now, I think you've been through enough of an emotional upheaval for one evening. Let me take care of you. I'll make dinner...we'll draw a bath..."

"When you say, uh...'we'll' draw a bath..."

Timmy ensured his lips grazed Russell's ear as he spoke: "I believe you heard me..."

And so what followed was, unsurprisingly, an attack of the grandest design, the peak of the evening's emotional roller coaster, as Russell thrust himself upon Timmy, moaning heavily as their mouths connected. This was simply how Russell worked...he needed comforted, and despite the voraciousness of the attack, it was loving, pure.

When their mouths broke, Timmy's lips finding Russell's neck in earnest, Russell, despite his desires, despite his desperate need, couldn't resist in ruining the moment completely: "I love you, Kimmy."

Timmy smacked Russell away, and both men took to ridiculous laughter before easing back into one another. These were their ebbs and flows...everything was okay. At least for tonight.

----------

It was around noon when Adam opened the door to Jeff, who held out a large plastic container, a look of defeat plastered upon his face.

"You want brownies?"

Adam didn't stop to think, snatching the offering from Jeff with a large grin. "Yeah, man, thanks!" He turned, Jeff following him inside, but he looked back finally, suspiciously. "Wait...why are you giving me brownies?" He lifted the lid hesitantly. "And so many...? Is something wrong with them?"

"Nothing wrong with the brownies. Can't a guy bring another guy baked goods without having his motives brought into question?"

Jen emerged from the bedroom, appearing none too cheerful. She looked frumpier than usual for noon, hair amiss, dressed in pajama bottoms and an ill-fitting t-shirt, and Jeff examined her with a curious expression.

"What happened there?"

"She's getting better," said Adam. "Should've seen her yesterday."

"This is the improved version?" quipped Jeff. He groaned out a sigh and leaned in close to Adam, speaking confidentially. "I don't know what's happening here, but whatever it is, it's gotten to yours, too."

"What do you mean?"

"The women, they're all going crazy. I suggest we find a hiding spot, lock ourselves away for a few days until we're in the clear."

"Shut up!!" Jen stormed up towards the men, causing them both to cower slightly away from her. Despite her smaller stature and the fact that she was hunched over somewhat miserably, she still came across a rather menacing figure, somehow. "Grah, your voice is so stupid!"

Adam spoke carefully. "Who...whose voice?"

"Both of your voices! Everybody's voices! You with your whiny little 'nya nya nya,' you with that stupid monotone 'brah brah brah,' shut the hell up, nobody wants to hear either of you squawking out here about your stupid bullcrap!"

From the next room came an old familiar: squawk!!!

"SHUT UP MAMBO, I WILL WRING YOUR FEATHERED NECK INTO NEXT FRICKIN' YEAR!"

Adam's hands shook as he offered Jen the container in his grasp. "Jeff brought brownies......"

"I don't want any stupid brownies!!"

Jen stormed out of the apartment, leaving the men staring at the closed door in wonder. What had just happened? What was happening to their wives?

Adam mumbled, "I-I thought Timmy fixed her..."

"Apparently not."

They both walked to the sofa, sinking down uneasily, and opened the container, grabbing brownies and chewing slowly as they contemplated their lives.

"Good brownies," said Adam softly.

"Made with love," said Jeff.

----------

It seems Jen forgot to request entry into the Binghams' apartment, traipsing inside without so much as an invitation. Audrey watched as she entered, sat at the dining room table, and began to sulk, all without a greeting or her permission.

"Uh...hey, hon."

"Men suck."

"Yeah, often times true, but why are you breaking into my apartment to tell me this?"

As if broken from a trance, Jen surveyed her surroundings, and finally looked at Audrey, her voice sweet and a little sad. "Oh...I'm sorry, Audrey, I'm not having a very good day."

"I can tell. You need to talk about it?"

"I shouldn't just barge in like this, you're busy with the baby and everything..."

"Baby's napping." Audrey joined Jen in sitting at the table, placing a plate of brownies in front of her. "Want a brownie?"

"Oh my god, I'd love a brownie!" Jen began stuffing her face. "God, this tastes so good. Everything tastes so good right now. Except when it doesn't, and then I just wanna hurl."

"Yeah? Been there, done that."

"And lately I've just...I've been having the worst mood swings, I'm just all over the place. It's like..."

"It's like you're pregnant."

Jen laughed, crumbs shooting from the corners of her lips. She quickly caught the bits of chocolate threatening to escape her mouth, shoving them back inside. "We've only been trying for like a week and a half."

"Mood swings, cravings, nausea..."

"But..." Jen swallowed, her brain spinning with a new sort of panic. "It's too soon. I mean, I just went off the pill. Maybe that's what's doing all of this, right, going off the pill?"

"Mm, yeah, maybe. But I had a cousin once. Swore she was on the pill..."

"And?"

"Has the cutest triplets now."

"Triplets? No-no-no, one, I want one!"

Audrey saw the dread on Jen's face and snickered lightly. "Oh, hon, I'm so sorry, no...no, you're probably right, you're probably just adjusting from the pills."

"I need to take a test, I-I need to know, I can't be pregnant, what if I'm pregnant?!"

Audrey sat in stunned silence a moment before sputtering out a reply. "Uh-uhm, you...you do realize you want to be pregnant? Did we forget?"

Jen grew solemn. "I'm just...I'm scared."

Audrey reached over, touching Jen's hand softly. "Let you in on a little secret?"

The women met eyes and Jen let off a soft sigh. "Yeah?"

"I'm terrified. Constantly." She patted Jen's hand. "And I have some tests left over in the bathroom. Come on...let's go pee on a stick."

----------

Russell and Timmy had slept rather late, today. They sat now at their kitchen island, Russell sipping his third cup of coffee.

"Did you add whiskey?" asked Timmy.

"Maybe," mumbled Russell.

Timmy had his phone on the ready, Emily's name pulled up on the screen. Russell's nerves were still on edge, and it seemed easier for Timmy to act as a go-between right now. "I'm going to call her."

Russell nodded, gulping down his alcohol-infused caffeine as Timmy made the call.

She answered rather quickly, her voice full of excitement, but confusion. "Hello?"

"Hello, Emily?"

"Hi! Uhm, Timmy, yeah? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, of course, everything's fine...in fact we've just received the results from your and Russell's paternity test and we were just wondering--"

"Did you open it yet? Wh-what did it say, was it--"

"No, no, we haven't yet, we thought the two of you should be together."

"When? When can we get together?"

Timmy covered the mouth piece a moment, smiling softly in Russell's direction. "She's excited."

Russell placed his cup down, a bit relieved. Even after all the time he'd spent with Emily, he couldn't be confident in her returned desire for a positive result...he knew better. He just couldn't let himself believe it.

"Are you free tonight?" Timmy asked. "Russell and I thought we might take you out for dinner. Someplace nice, cocktails, the works, we--" Timmy paused a moment, his face drawn blank.

"What?" asked Russell. "What did she say?"

Timmy sighed gently. "She said, 'excuse me, what kind of tails?'"

Russell stood, clapping his hands and spinning in a sort of exuberant victory dance. "That's my kid, Timmy! That's my kid!!"

----------

"This place is nice," said Emily.

Timmy observed his dinner companions as they entered the quaint little restaurant they'd chosen for the evening, a small yet refined place. Emily had dressed neatly, always having an air of casual sophistication about her and yet something else...something he couldn't quite place his finger on, so oddly familiar to him yet a touch more refined.

She and Russell had spent the ride there exchanging small, affectionate glances, awkward smiles, and Timmy had watched them in wonder, rarely having seen Russell so overtaken with joyous nerves than he was in the presence of Emily.

And now Russell's nerves seemed all the more elevated as they entered the restaurant, and Timmy was doing his best to calm him with gentle touches to his back, ensuring him he was there. Russell looked back at him with a soft nod.

The trio were seated and took to casual chatting for a short while before Emily excused herself momentarily, and Russell began to drink his water down in large, anxious gulps.

"Calm down."

Russell shook his head as he finished off the glass and plunked it back upon the table. "Too much, man, this is all too much."

"I realize this is all highly--"

Russell's phone rang. He was visibly frustrated as he pulled it from his pocket, and upon seeing the caller, markedly confused. "It's my mom."

"Why would your mother be calling right now?"

Russell shrugged as he answered the call. "Hey, Mom. What? Yeah, no, but you said..." Russell pressed his temple firmly, speaking away from the phone. "Ugh, she's in town early..."

"Well, you simply can't see her tonight, just tell her you're previously engaged."

"What's that, Mom? Yeah, the uh, the wife and I are out to dinner already. Oh? Oh, well that's good." He spoke once more to Timmy: "She's just gonna go out by herself, says she's headed to someplace called Sorriso's..."

Timmy's jaw dropped lightly as Russell continued polite, forced conversation with his mother. "Russell..."

"Yeah, sure. Sure thing, talk to you tomorrow."

"Russell..."

"Okay. G'night, Mom."

"Russell..."

Russell had hung up and began speaking without bothering to notice the stunned look on Timmy's face. "Great. So now we have to deal with that. I mean, I knew it was coming, but...she's gonna take one look at you and--" He finally looked upon Timmy, his brow furrowing. "What? What is it?"

"You said she's going to Sorriso's?"

"Yeah...what's the big deal?"

"Russell...we're at Sorriso's."

Timmy received no reply. He watched as Russell's expression turned stone blank...then he stood, walking quickly from the table. Timmy watched him leave, taken aback at first, and then took to following him all the way out of the restaurant.

When they were outside, he grabbed Russell firmly by the arm, turning him around to face him. "What in heaven's name are you doing? You can't just leave, Emily's still inside, what--"

"Is there a target painted on my forehead, Timmy?"

"What?"

"A big old 'X', or something? Is this of those cheap daytime soaps where as soon as everything starts to go a little okay, somebody throws a wrench in the works?" He spun around, arms stretched wide. "Where are the cameras, huh? Who's watching this shit? Are y'all amused?! Does this amuse you?!" He mimicked loud, dramatic music: "Duh, duh, DUH!!!"

"Russell, please...you're being dramatic."

He turned, grabbing Timmy by the shoulders. "My life used to be pretty laid back, y'know? I had a pretty relaxed job..."

"Because you never did your job..."

"I hung out with a lot of beautiful women."

"Fine line between hanging out and stalking..."

"And then suddenly everything changed. I married you, this kid showed up outta nowhere, and it seems like every couple of days there's some new slice of drama, like, can't we catch a break? Can't we go out and have a nice dinner without my phone ringing or somebody handing me some new catastrophe, I mean, I just wanted to go out and have a nice dinner, is that too much to ask, I mean, is it?!"

As if on cue, as if scripted by the gods of 'fuck you, Russell'...a phone notification. Russell's eyes glossed over. He whimpered lightly as he retrieved his phone once again, looking to it slowly, hesitantly.

A text from Emily: My mom found out where I was going. I'm so sorry.

Russell felt a tap on his shoulder. "Hello, Russell."

He turned slowly and found himself face to face with a familiar ghost from his past. An attractive, blonde, ferocious ghost with murder in her eyes.

"Jessie..." Russell's blood ran cold, but he did his best to extend a friendly smile. He was met with nothing in return but a steady glare. "Been, uh...been a long time."

"It's been 25 years since I've seen you, Russell Dunbar...wanna know how I keep track?"

"Yeah, okay, uh...listen, let's go inside, sit down, let's talk about this. Y'know, Emily, she's a great kid, I really--"

The next thing Russell saw was the fist making contact with his face...and everything went black.

Notes:

Alternate chapter title: "Russell really hates his stupid phone."

Chapter 20: Results

Everything had gone black. When Russell finally came to a minute later, he realized he'd been laid out. Flat on the ground. By a woman. Damn it. He looked up to find Timmy crouching over him and nodded in confirmation that everything was fine before peering towards the scene playing out in front of them: Emily desperately trying to calm down her mother Jessie, their whispered argument escalating with excessive arm movements and a bit of vulgar mockery on Jessie's part.

Russell had to do something, he had to get himself off of the ground and--

"Excuse me...excuse me, might I have a word!!" Timmy had dared to yell out to the tornado of women, Russell pawing at his legs -- no, don't be a hero -- but to no avail.

The women turned their attentions to Timmy...then to Russell on the ground, where he had thoughtlessly wrapped his arms around Timmy's legs in a fit of desperation. He let loose of him now, standing to his feet, brushing himself off and clearing his throat in an effort to retain some sense of masculinity.

"Now," Timmy continued, "we're all adults here, this is completely out of line, I'm sure we can sit down and have a reasonable discussion about all of this."

Jessie turned back to Emily. "Who ordered a mediator?"

"That's Russell's husband."

"Captain chlamydia has a husband? I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I told you he was a little fruity, didn't I tell you?"

"Mom!"

Russell rushed the women now. He was fed up; not just with the unexpected arrival of a long-ago ex who'd done a fast job of putting him in his place for transgressions probably long past their expiration date. He was fed up with life, fed up with every bit of happiness in his world being executed by the drama police.

"You have something to say to me, Jessie?"

Despite Emily's attempts to contain her mother, the woman approached Russell, anger still in her eyes.

"You know what? I do. I have a lot of things to say to you..."

Russell and Jessie stood in silence, locked in a staring match. Timmy found his way clear to inch cautiously towards Emily, who was surreptitiously watching the scene play out before her through her hands, shrinking smaller and smaller.

Timmy spoke softly towards her: "If either of them goes for the jugular, you stay back, I'll handle it."

Emily looked towards Timmy. "You're not that much bigger than me. I mean...no offense. You're kind of wiry."

"Well. Thank you for the vote of confidence."

At last, Jessie was the first to speak to Russell: "You look like you've gained some weight."

Russell's shoulders dropped as he did a slight double take. "Seriously? Seriously, after twenty-five years that's what you're gonna say to me?"

"Well, you were such a skinny little freak, I mean, you're still a midget, but--"

"Yeah, well, you've gained some weight too...in your boobs. What'd you start at, a B-cup? What are you at now, a D? Careful, I've heard those things explode if you go too high."

"When's the last time you touched a pair of boobs? You're gay now? Figures."

"Yeah, well, Jess, you never seemed to mind a little girl-on-girl action when we were dating."

Emily squeaked out a small, "oh," and Timmy touched her back gently.

"When we were dating? You wanna talk about when we were dating?"

Russell turned away lightly with a groan. "Come on, it was twenty-five years ago, I can't even remember twenty-five minutes ago half the time. I...I have serious memory problems, it's probably some kind of condition, ask Timmy, he's been dealing with this for years, right, Timmy?"

As Russell pointed in Timmy's direction, Timmy wove his hands broadly in a clear indication that he would not be a part of the present conversation.

Jessie carried on unphased. "But you remember my bra size, huh?" She gestured to her breasts. "Got a photographic memory for these puppies, do ya?!"

Timmy could not contain a woeful moan as he pressed his hands to his face. He was ready to walk away when Jessie turned to him; she observed her hands as they lingered just above her breasts, allowing them to collapse, her face softening thoughtfully. "Your name's Timmy?"

He sighed, body hunching defeatedly. "Yes."

"Well, I'm sorry I cold clocked your husband, Timmy."

"Bu-- wha--" Russell sputtered, building to a frenzy. "What, you're apologizing to him?! I'm the one you hit!!"

"Well, you had it coming! He seems like a nice guy, it's the least I could do. I mean, look at them." She motioned towards Emily and Timmy; the two of them appeared quite a touch overwhelmed, having so little control of the situation. "They don't deserve this, we're acting like a couple of idiots."

Russell's temper eased a moment as he met eyes with Timmy, who seemed to be pleading with him to find some sense of maturity in this situation; and then he pointed a finger in Jessie's face and in a decidedly schoolyard tone snarked: "I'm not an idiot, you're an idiot!"

Timmy chided softly: "Russell!" Russell turned to him, waving arms and hands, speaking in an excessive form of communication only Timmy could understand.

Timmy took to much the same action with his hands, and for a time the men spoke in this way, flailing hands angrily, faster and faster, fists clenching angrily, building up to a stomping of feet, until finally Timmy spun away in a huff.

Timmy gathered himself, turning to Emily with a smile. "We're going to go inside and leave your mother and Russell to converse in private."

"But--" Emily had no time to argue as Timmy led her back inside the restaurant, leaving Russell to continue his stand-off against Jessie without the benefit of adult supervision.

----------

There was one brownie left in the container that sat on Adam's lap.

"Flip you for it," said Jeff.

Adam patted at his pockets. "Don't think I've got a coin on me."

"No, I mean I will physically flip you over if you don't give me the last brownie." Message received; Adam thrust the container onto Jeff's lap. "Nice doing business with you."

"Oh!" Adam pointed back towards the television and the show he'd trapped a reluctant Jeff into watching. "Shh, this is gonna be the best part. See, last week, Harrison finally confessed his love for Vanessa, right? But that was only after she had his baby. And the baby's a hybrid, like, fifty perfect werewolf, fifty percent vampire? So--"

"I one hundred percent don't care."

"Come on, you've really never watched Fangs For the Memories before?"

"Uhm. No. No, I have not."

"Ohh, man, you're missing out!"

"I...might have just figured out what Jen's problem is."

----------

"Jen? You okay in there?"

Jen's voice floated out of the Binghams' bathroom soft and fragile: "...Yes."

Audrey continued pacing in front of the door. "Well, it's been about..." She checked her watch. "Been about thirty minutes, usually doesn't take quite so long to pee on a stick, huh?"

Jen stood on the other side of the door, leaning against it, staring at the piece of plastic in her hand. She wasn't sure how she felt about the result. When Audrey had suggested the possibility of pregnancy, her stomach had twisted in several knots, and the result had somehow added several more. But why? She couldn't quite pin down why everything in her life felt like a constant tugging, as if some invisible force had her by either arm, yanking her in both directions.

She felt split in two distinct directions: old life; new life. Marriage had been the first step. A piece of paper shouldn't have changed things so much, but it felt different. And now--

"Jen?"

"Coming." She attempted to shove the test into a pocket, then realized she was still dressed in pajama bottoms...she looked at her feet. No shoes at all. She really was a mess. Time to get her act together.

Jen emerged with a small smile, test hidden securely in her fist.

"Well?" questioned Audrey. "C'mon, what'd it say?"

"Uhm...sorry, I think I should talk to Adam first."

"Oh...oh, well, yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. You go."

Audrey watched Jen leave and then made her way to the kitchen table and sat, withering in defeat. She pulled her phone from her pocket, returning her attentions to the email she'd received shortly before Jen had barged her way into the apartment a short while ago...

Come on, Audrey! We can make this work!

She was getting tired of these emails; they were growing more and more persistent. And the conversation she'd had with Jeff the other night, out at dinner, had only made her question them more. She'd flatly responded 'no' a time or two which hadn't seemed enough. Maybe she was beginning to change her mind...

----------

Timmy dragging Emily away had somehow silenced Russell and Jessie. The air had grown stiff without their presence as safeguards, and they both felt a strong urge to walk away from the sudden confrontation, but it was really too late for that, now.

Russell had been just a touch dishonest with Emily upon describing the nature of his relationship with her mother. Weekly karaoke, he'd told her, followed by cheap visits to a hotel off the highway. Of course, that kind of an arrangement wouldn't typically cause such heated animosity after twenty-five years.

And now she stood in front of him, tapping a foot faster and faster as she gained the nerve to speak again. Finally she forced herself to stop her tapping, and with great effort smoothed any further lines of anger from her face.

"Y'know, Russell, maybe you weren't such a bad guy." Jessie looked to the sky. Not at Russell. Her composure remained tense as her lips struggled to move, as if words were trying desperately to form in her mouth. "I mean, sure, what you did was terrible, but...I needed for you to be the screw up, not me. I needed a fall guy."

Russell wasn't ready to make friends. He rubbed the spot where he'd been hit, feeling the bruise that was surely forming against his cheek. "Yeah, well...I fell, all right."

She sniggered softly. "Yeah, well, I'm sorry about the whole punching you in the face thing. Probably gonna leave a mark, but hey, listen, you left me with a few stretch marks, fair trade."

"Yeah, real funny," he muttered, continuing to rub his cheek.

"You really don't remember, do you?"

Jessie had blurted the question out so abruptly that Russell was left speechless at first. He didn't really want to have the conversation...he knew he had to. He played dumb. "Remember what?"

"Why we split."

"Didn't even know we were a thing. Didn't know it was that serious..."

"Yes, you did. Come on, how could you not know? How could you not--"

"You came over to my place." Russell stood firm with a new sense of confidence. He remembered that night; he remembered everything. Fine; let's talk about it. "But when you got there, I was, uh...I was with somebody else."

"My best friend Sheila. Well, she wasn't my best friend after that..."

"You were mad, there was a fight. Punched me that night, too."

"You've got a punchable face."

"Yeah, I've heard that."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence in which they both knew there was more to say...finally, Jessie took the initiative. Somebody had to be the one to say it.

"Y'know why I came over that night? Why I was so angry? I mean, cheating on me was enough, but..."

Russell shook his head, closing his eyes painfully tight. "Why didn't you just tell me you were pregnant?"

"Seriously? 'Oh, hey guys, sorry to interrupt the sex, but I've got a baby floatin' around inside of me.' Yeah, kinda ruined the moment. I was excited, ya dumbass! I thought we had something special, I liked you! And maybe this was it, y'know? I'd finally cinch it with that flaky Dunbar kid." She caught herself, recovering with a shake of her head. "Mm, but that's not what a kid is for. I learned that lesson real fast."

"I would have been there. You didn't give me a chance."

"How could I be sure of that?"

Russell's face was scrunched in thought, trying to figure everything out. His hot-shot mask was breaking at an alarming rate, though he'd barely bothered affixing it this evening. He couldn't do this. He could find no way of justifying these past sins, and now, the only thing that felt satisfactory was self-deprecation. "Damn it, no wonder you punched me." He turned his back on Jessie.

She hadn't expected this...for him to do her job for her. "Uhh...but...hey, but listen. We both know it wasn't right. We were all wrong for each other, just dumb kids playing a game. And it all worked out for me. A couple of years later, I met Roger, we got married, and he's the best thing that ever could have happened to me."

"I suck." Russell stood in mild shock, unable to process what she was saying. "I am not a good person."

"Hey...hey, Russell, turn back around, huh?"

He did as instructed, but pointed to his face. "Listen, go ahead and hit me on the other side, make it a matching set, huh? I deserve at least that much, come on."

"Hey, I'm trying to say something, here!!"

Russell shrank down lightly as Jessie carried on.

"You sucked back then, and I didn't know much better, but...well, I guess I suck, too. I didn't tell you guys about each other. Out of spite, I guess. Plus, I had a new life, I wanted to forget. But Em, she gets people...and if she likes you so much...maybe you don't suck quite so bad anymore."

Russell couldn't really answer in the affirmative; right now, he felt like a steaming pile of suck.

"You know how she found out? Found some old photos in the attic, asked the question. I didn't really tell her either way, but I said enough that I guess she figured it out...she recognized your name from the buildings, put two and two together, you were easy to find."

"You...you had pictures of me?"

"Thought I'd gotten rid of all that stuff. Guess I'm sentimental."

"Yeah, well...guess I left ya with a pretty big memento."

They both forced soft laughter, and what followed was more awkward silence...but for both of them, if felt as if they'd taken a large step in clearing the air...there was little more that needed to be said in this moment. That was something. Where did this leave them?

"So," Russell sighed out, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, you got married?"

"Yeah, Roger, he's a real good guy." Jessie clicked her tongue several times, thinking. "Oh, uh...Timmy?"

"Oh. Yeah, that's...that's a long story. But he's cool, yeah."

"Yeah, seems like a nice guy. Little young for you, huh? You still the same old playboy you ever were?"

Russell was about to defend himself when he saw Jessie's attempt at a friendly smirk, and he returned the gesture in kind. He saw his exit: "Yeah, well, I'd better go save him pretty soon, so..."

"From Emily?"

"Didn't mean it like that."

"Why'd you kidnap my daughter tonight, anyway? The two of you've been sneaking around behind my back?"

"That was all on her, she was worried how you'd react." He pointed once more to the spot where he'd been punched, and she nodded in recognition. "And, uh...tonight, we kind of...I guess..."

"Out with it, Dunbar."

"We took a paternity test. We came out tonight to look at the results."

Jessie laughed a bit too loud, covering her mouth as she forced her laughter down. "I'm sorry, but...seriously? You didn't have to. She's yours, Russell. I know. I always knew."

"Yeah, well..." Russell attempted laughter, but his face turned a little sad as he looked Jessie in the eyes. "I didn't know, did I?"

She sighed, turning her face down in apology. "No. No, you didn't." She walked closer to Russell, extending a hand outward...it hovered just over his arm a moment, and then she dared to let it touch him briefly, a split second, before pulling back again. "I guess I can't avoid you anymore. I mean, I'm gonna do my best, but...hey, are you happy now, Russell? You didn't seem very happy back then."

Russell thought awhile. He looked towards the ground a moment, then back towards Jessie with a firm nod. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm happy."

She smiled. "Good. I'm glad we both figured it out." She turned to walk away, but turned back briefly. "Don't you dare hurt her. She's a good kid. She's a lot like you...too much, sometimes. Don't you dare hurt her."

"I would never."

He spoke the words with great conviction, and she walked away seemingly satisfied, disappearing away from the restaurant. Russell stood alone for awhile, wallowing in a newfound sense of shame and self-doubt.

He'd just made a pretty steep promise...to not hurt Emily. He'd promised Jessie, but mostly he'd promised himself. Maybe he wasn't very good at keeping promises. Maybe he was pretty good at hurting people.

"...Russell?" He flipped around to look into Timmy's face. The person he'd habitually hurt for years, looking at him with those soft, caring eyes. "Is everything all right? Emily insisted on coming back outside, we've probably eaten ten breadsticks in the last five minutes..."

Russell hugged his arms softly around Timmy, pulling him close. "Everything's fine. Everything's great."

Emily had trailed slowly behind Timmy, joining the men now. "Mom didn't kill you?"

Russell waved Emily into the hug, and Timmy met eyes with her, giving a half-shrug from his place in Russell's arm as she joined them.

And there they stood, in a decidedly awkward group hug, Russell smiling a stupidly satisfied grin as Timmy and Emily took finally to soft laughter. They loved him. He was ridiculous, but they loved him.

It was now that a group walked towards the restaurant, giving them all a funny look: Russell couldn't see. Timmy and Emily looked to them in slight embarrassment.

"Russell," spoke Timmy. "Perhaps we should go inside and eat? You know, dinner? What we came here to do?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." But Russell didn't release his grip quite yet. "And when my mom shows up, Emily, you pretend you're my wife, okay?"

Emily's eyes went wide: "What?!"

Timmy pulled back forcibly and shook his head scoldingly: "No. We're not doing that."

----------

"Look," said Adam, "all I'm saying is that a kid like that would never make it through our modern school system in one piece, he's got a tough road ahead of him. What with bullies and all the pressures to fit in. And I mean, don't get me started on full moons."

Jeff leaned in close, voice serious. "Yeah, but the kid's not gonna be turning into a werewolf during school hours, right? School's held during the day, so..." He paused, sitting up straight and considering his words. "The hell am I saying, what kind of nonsense did you rope me into?" He stood. "Think that's my cue to leave."

Jeff was more than a little relieved to find Jen walking through the door. Perfect timing. No more of Adam rambling on and on about mythical creatures in love and babies with fangs and fur, no more being sucked into the dumbest conversations ever conceived. Good freaking hell.

Jen traipsed slowly towards the men. "Sorry for getting a little yell-y earlier, Jeff."

"It's all good. I've just had a first row seat into your day-to-day with mister howls-at-the-moon, here, I'd get a little yell-y, too." He held out the empty container. "Would try and offer you a brownie again, but..."

"That's okay." Jen watched as Jeff awkwardly excused himself from the apartment before she sat next to Adam. She gripped the test, still held securely in her first. "So hey, can we talk?"

Adam wrapped an arm around Jen's shoulder, pulling her close to him. "Of course we can talk, honey...what'd we say, huh? No more secrets."

"I guess I owe you an apology."

Adam feigned ignorance as he rubbed Jen's arm. "Awh, babe...whyyyy? Whatever could you possibly mean?"

"Oh, come on, I'm crazy, not stupid."

Adam sighed out in relief. "Yeah, well. You have been a little crazy."

"HEY!" Adam pulled back from Jen carefully, the power of her sudden scream enough to drive him several inches away from her. Realizing what she'd done, seeing the pain on his face, she corrected herself immediately, face riddled with apology. She was doing it again, wasn't she? "I'm sorry..."

"I-it's okay..."

"No, it's not. I've been acting a little weird the last few days, and...I think I know why." She considered her next words carefully, then, taking a deep breath, sat tall and looked deep into Adam's eyes. "I love you, Adam."

"You've been acting weird because you love me?"

"No, I...I have something I need to tell you. Adam..." She held her hand out, and very slowly unfurled her fist, displaying the pregnancy test.

"I'm not pregnant."

A smile graced Adam's face, excitement building. "Oh my god, honey, no way, that's...!" And then, the words began to process in his brain...slowly. Very slowly. Jen could see it in his eyes as they shifted, trying to make sense of what she'd just said. He looked at the test, picking it up from her palm, examining it in confusion.

"Uhm...not...not pregnant?"

"Not pregnant."

Adam sucked in his lips, closed his eyes, and rubbed his temple slowly. "Uh, Jen...are we gonna do this every time you have a negative test, because I..." He shook his head. "See, I've got a weak heart, babe."

"Can't take the shock?"

"I just want this so much...you can't get my hopes up like that."

Jen felt herself melt...oh, Adam. Poor, sweet, wonderful Adam.

"But why are you even telling me, I mean, I don't...?"

Jen was growing a bit excited; she was finally figuring it all out. It was finally coming together. "Well, that's just it. It's why I've been acting so weird. So first we got engaged, right? And I loved that, that was enough for me! But then we started actually planning a wedding...and the closer we got to really planning the wedding, the more high strung I got."

"Yeah, that's true. You got really yell-y." He gasped. "Oh my god, kind of like you are right now!"

"Yeah! Now that I'm planning for a baby, I'm thinking about it all the time, I'm more high strung than ever."

"So...what you're saying is, if we stop thinking about baby stuff all the time..."

"I'll calm down about it. Maybe we need to just...let this happen. In its own time."

"Kind of like Harrison and Vanessa did on--"

"Adam, we aren't vampires and werewolves!"

Adam grinned slyly. "But we could be...?"

Jen saw where this was leading. She stood from the sofa and made an attempt to calm her wild hair, trying to look just a touch sexier than...well, not at all. She sighed out, but gave Adam a familiar, suggestive smile. "I'll go get the plastic fangs."

Adam took to his feet in excitement. "Yeah, we're gonna make a baby!"

"Just sex," corrected Jen.

"Yeah, we might make a baby, accidentally!"

----------

Audrey couldn't take much more of these incessant emails. She made the call. The phone rang once...twice. And finally, he answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Barry."

"Audrey! Finally, you call! Man, do I ever wanna talk to you!"

"Can't keep emailing me like this. It's been a long time since we've seen each other, this is a little bit out of line."

"Come on, Audrey, please? I need you."

"It's not that easy, I can't just drop everything and come running to you."

"But the last guy quit on us! And we've never had anybody around here as good as you. Please? Tug's willing to go as high as 20% more than what you were making before."

"Look, Barry, I really appreciate the offer, but I have a newborn at home, I'm pregnant, I don't think--"

"So you can work from home for awhile, we're super accommodating. And Tug's got a kid now, we've got a great daycare facility and everything. We've really expanded in the last couple of years. Listen, we've been down our whole list of past employees, nobody wants to come back."

"Big shocker there. Wait, somebody made a baby with Tug...?"

"Yeah!"

"Willingly...?" Jeff started through the door. "Listen, I have to go. No, my husband's home. We can discuss this later, please just...stop emailing me."

Jeff paused a moment, observing Audrey as she placed her phone suspiciously upon the table...face down. She moved it several inches, nervously, as though she had something to hide.

"What was that about?"

"What was what about?" asked Audrey with a broad smile.

"You had to stop talking to somebody because your husband was home? You'd discuss it later?"

"Oh, that was nothing, don't worry about it." Then, quickly diverting the topic: "So, did the neighbors like the brownies?"

"The...neighbors?"

"Yeah...you were gonna go around to all the neighbors, right? See if they liked my brownies?"

"Yes!" Jeff walked his way towards Audrey, plunking the empty container down on the table with a grin. "Yes, all of the neighbors...loved your brownies. All of them. So, uhh..."

Shea woke up with a cry, and Audrey dismissed herself to the nursery.

And so, Jeff looked to Audrey's phone on the table. He resisted at first...no, he shouldn't...but his fingers itched, he had to know, and finally his curiosity got the better of him. He picked the phone up lightly by his fingertips, looking around to make sure the coast was still clear before turning on the screen and finding the evidence...the email exchange Audrey had left so brazenly open upon her screen.

Barry had said: Come on Audrey! We can make this work!

Audrey had replied: I really don't think I can.

To which Barry had replied: I'll make you an offer you can't refuse.

Jeff's face pulled back in disgust. "An offer she can't refuse?"

Audrey's response: It's certainly tempting. But I have to consider my family. Between the baby and being pregnant, it just makes everything more difficult...I'm not as flexible as I used to be.

Jeff's reaction was audible as he released a visceral groan, the phone collapsing from his hand back upon the table as he turned away in frustration.

"Everything okay out there?" called Audrey from the nursery.

Jeff muttered under his breath, "Holy crap, she's having an affair!"

"Jeff?"

He grit down before calling back: "Uh, just fine! Just, uh, stubbed my toe on the damn table, y'know me, big dumb klutz!" He laughed sharply, sounding ludicrous, and Audrey emerged with the baby and a curious expression on her face.

"Gonna make it?"

Jeff winced with a nod and eked out a soft, "Mm-hm." Audrey smiled at him, making her way to the kitchen, and he collapsed into a chair at the table, staring into the distance.

Well, she seemed pretty damn pleased with herself.

----------

Russell, Timmy, and Emily had had a lovely dinner, and for once the atmosphere was fully relaxed and nothing if not pleasant. They'd moved on to dessert as they carried on with friendly banter and sarcastic jabs between the boys. The usual.

Emily was happy. No more hiding from her mother, no more lies. She was sure there would always be some tension hanging in the air, but at least she could be honest now...she'd hated the lies.

There was only one person at the table still lying to their parents, now.

Timmy had come to a realization, and turned his attentions to Russell, who had taken a quick time in stuffing his face with chocolate cake. Downed the whole thing in several minutes flat; typical. "You know, it's funny. It seems your mother never did arrive to the restaurant, after all."

"I know, man, my luck's really coming around, huh? My dad thinks you're a chick, my mom's AWOL..."

Emily, hand poised to bring a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, allowed the spoon to clank back down as she released a weak groan. "Okay, fess up. What's going on with your parents? Why did you want me to pretend to be your wife?"

"Don't worry about it. Let's just say you're not the only one who's been keeping secrets from your folks, huh?" He forked the last crumbs of cake into his mouth, looking to Timmy's plate. Still pecking away at his food; typical. "Hey, how's that whatever-it-is you ordered?"

Timmy spoke through a mouthful. "Oh, the tiramisu here is quite excellent."

"Yeah, well, it'd better be. This dinner's costing me a small fortune, eat all of that."

"Hey, now!" scolded Emily. "That's not very nice. That looks good though, can I have a bite?"

Timmy offered his plate and Emily took a bite as the two exchanged satisfied nods. Russell's face soured as he watched them enjoying themselves, coming to a sudden realization.

"Oh, my god, stop eating tiramisu like a couple of idiots!"

Emily shot Russell a stunned glare. "Wow, you're being really mean!"

"Yes," Timmy spoke flatly. "Now you see what I have to put up with."

"No, no, no!" Russell reached into a pocket, pulling out an envelope. "We didn't even open it! We've been gabbing and eating, we came here to do this and we didn't even open the freaking thing!"

Timmy and Emily's jaws hung open. How? How could they have forgotten the very reason they had come out to dinner? After Jessie's arrival, their answer had just been so abundantly clear that a piece of paper had seemed rather superfluous. Still, for the sake of technicality...

Emily moved herself to the side of Russell, the two of them sitting very close together. Timmy watched as the two of them tore open the envelope, their eyes desperately scanning the letter for the answer they had so desperately sought these last few weeks. Timmy waited. And waited. This was taking too long. He was growing rather nervous.

There was something off about both of their reactions, as if they were making a concentrated effort to keep a poker face; and then their constitutions both began to slowly crumble before him, faces turning down somberly.

"What? What is it?" Timmy's heart began to race. No, it couldn't be.

"Don't make me say it, dude," spoke Russell softly.

Timmy turned to Emily in hopes of an answer; she simply turned her face down further, shaking her head forlornly in response.

"But that can't be," said Timmy, breath catching. "We were all so certain of the result, we...after everything that just happened...Russell?"

Russell's face scrunched as if prepared to cry. He refused to speak.

"Emily? Emily, your mother seemed so sure of herself, I don't understand, how could--"

There came now a stifled hint of laughter. Timmy looked to Russell, brow slowly furrowing. His voice dropped, growing suspicious and taught. "What's so funny, Russell?"

Russell was having a difficult time now containing a smile from gracing his face as he looked to Emily, who bit a lip to hide a small smirk before giving in with a modest: "Psych."

Russell voiced a far less modest: "Psych!!" as he thrust the paper in Timmy's face, which he snatched. Sure enough, a positive result. No great shock, no grand catastrophe. Russell, you little son of a...

"Not funny." Timmy stood, walking away with a low grunt of aggravation, hands curling into fists.

"Now, come on!" called Russell after him. "It was a little funny!"

"Timmy, come back!" Emily implored.

"Good lord," Timmy muttered to himself as he walked away. "Now I have two of them."

Emily took to her feet with little hesitation, and Russell snatched her back. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to apologize, that was really a mean trick to pull."

Russell watched her go with a roll of his eyes. "Pft, check out the conscience on that one. Great, now I have two of them."

When Emily caught up to Timmy, he folded his arms, gazing upon her in an authoritarian manner. She smirked at him slyly. "That might work on Russell, doesn't really work on me. I'm really sorry though, that wasn't very nice...I swear, it was all his idea."

"In the last three minutes?"

"Weeks ago. He said you'd think it was funny."

"He knew I wouldn't. And you really shouldn't listen to him, anyway...don't let him be a bad influence on you. I doubt your mother would appreciate it."

She laughed sharply. "Pretty sure my mother forgets sometimes that I'm a grown woman. Guess it's just that streak of Dunbar in me. And it's just that Dunbar in him, too. Come on, that's what you married him for, huh?"

"I married him for a green card."

Emily clicked her tongue, nodding in recognition of this fact. "Still, just a little joke. Look at him sitting all alone over there, he looks lonely."

Timmy peered back towards the table. "Actually, he seems quite preoccupied playing with the silverware, he's turned them into little rocket ships. But I'll return on one condition. No more hijinks?"

"Well, that's a pretty big condition, huh? We're family now. I might seem kind of quiet, but once you're in, you're not safe. And now you're my...my...step-fa--...this is kind of weird, what do I call you?"

"Timmy. I'm your Timmy."

The two exchanged easy smiles before returning to the table.

"I hate you," said Timmy to Russell in such a neutral tone that it was hard to read; Russell just laughed. He knew he didn't.

----------

It seemed Russell had avoided further disaster. His mother had failed to show up to dinner, and as they stood outside the restaurant, he looked to the sky as if in apology for his earlier cursing to the heavens. Everything had turned out just fine. He looked to Timmy and Emily, chatting to his side, and felt an outpouring of love and devotion for them.

Emily approached Russell radiating warmth. "I'm going to catch a cab, need to get home. Have an early day tomorrow, but...it's been nice. I mean, aside from mom pummeling you and everything."

"Yeah, aside from that."

Emily hesitated a moment before wrapping her arms around Russell. "I'm glad I found you. Don't go anywhere, okay? Promise?"

Russell closed his eyes, sighing into the embrace. "Promise."

"I love you."

The statement took Russell by such shock that at first he couldn't find the words to respond. Emily gripped the cloth of Russell's shirt in mild dread at having been the first to say it; her fingers relaxed when she heard the words echoed back towards her, though his voice shook a bit: "I love you, too."

Leaving the hug was somewhat difficult, but they finally parted ways. Emily waved goodbye as she caught a cab, and the men stood alone. Timmy patted Russell's back softly, comfortingly as she drove away.

"Well, you survived the evening," said Timmy. "I don't rightly know how, but...you always seem to find a way."

Russell, satisfied with the evening's final results, was ready for a bit of divergence. "Sooo whattaya wanna do for the rest of the night?" he asked, walking his fingers up the length of Timmy's arm.

"I still hate you."

"You don't hate me!"

Timmy grumbled, looking down. "I do, a little."

Russell spoke in a sing-song tone: "I can change your mi-ind!"

"No, you ca--" Russell tilted Timmy's head up, kissing his lips -- he'd meant for the kiss to be a bit chaste, kiddish, but upon feeling Timmy relax into his lips he sank deeper, staying a touch longer than intended before pulling back with a smile.

"Still hate me?"

Timmy sighed out in mock annoyance, but smiled. "Yes."

From behind the men came a new voice, soft and sweet: "Well, that certainly didn't look like a hate kiss to me."

They turned towards the source of the voice, a figure having emerged from the restaurant. She sauntered towards them, stopping now, nodding most assuredly. "And trust me, I've engaged in more than my fair share of hate kisses."

"Mom..." Russell took a step away from Timmy, as if this would somehow rectify the situation; as if she hadn't just commented on the kiss, as if she hadn't made it abundantly clear that she knew precisely what was happening.

"Oh, no, please, darling." Bunny grabbed each of the men by an arm, guiding them back towards one another. "You looked quite cozy, don't stop on my account."

Russell grumbled out in irritation. "Okay, this isn't how this was supposed to go, uhm...Mom, I have something to tell you."

"I believe she's figured it out," said Timmy.

Russell was growing flabbergasted. "Yeah, but I had a whole speech planned, I had this thing I was gonna do, it was--" He grabbed his mother by her shoulders, facing her head on. "Can I just do this, will you let me do this?"

Bunny laughed...an affectionate sort of laugh, but she went along with his little game. "Well, certainly, Rusty, if you want to be ridiculous about it, go right ahead."

Russell shook her gently as he spoke in a rehearsed, robotic fashion. "Mom, I have something to tell you. I know this might come as something of a shock--"

"It really doesn't," she interjected.

Russell sighed out heavily. "...Something of a shock, but when I told you I was married again, I neglected to tell you a few pertinent details about the situation. First of all--"

"You married Timmy."

"I married..." Russell let go of his mother, turning away from her in agitation. He spun back, looking upon her with frustration...but her face was so gentle, so welcoming, that he found himself softening. "And, uh...and, I, uh..."

"Are we quite done? I'm afraid Timmy's right, dear, I've figured it out."

Russell nodded, stepping down.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Russell gestured awkwardly towards Timmy. "This was...a lot to try and explain, I guess."

"Why, look at him!" Bunny exclaimed as Timmy took a step towards them now on light, hesitant feet, extending her a warm smile. "He's so wonderful. What more is there to explain?"

Russell rose a curious brow at his mother. She didn't make much sense sometimes...there seemed a great deal more to explain...but hell, that was good enough for him.

Timmy was hesitant to speak, but his voice came out finally, very small: "So sorry, Ms. Dunbar, but, uhm...if you were in the restaurant this entire time, why didn't you approach us?" He smiled a bit wider at the woman, whose face turned quite a bit suspicious at the inquiry. "Were you spying on us?"

"Oh, I've told you before, Timmy, please...call me Bunny! Although I suppose you're to call me 'Mother' now, isn't that how this works? I'm afraid I've never really done this before."

"I suppose we'll figure it out."

"At any rate, I didn't see you all at first...and once I did, the situation seemed so fascinating, I admit I hesitated to approach. The girl you were with certainly didn't strike me as spousal, and...well, boys, there's a certain sort of way one acts around a lover, a certain look, a certain touch." She touched a hand to Timmy's arm softly. "The two of you make it so obvious." She looked back to her son: "Oh, but then you always did."

"No...Mom, we didn't, we really didn't, how many times do we have to have this conversation?"

"A mother's always right," she said, dismissing him entirely. "Now, I'm in town for the next few days, I expect to see a lot more of each other?"

"Yeah," said Russell. "Yeah, sure...hey, Mom?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Not that you ever talk to him, or anything, but...don't tell Dad. He doesn't..." Russell looked back at Timmy, sighing gently before turning back to his mother. "He doesn't know. He kind of thinks Timmy's a woman, it's a mess, it's--"

"Rusty, are you asking me to lie to your father?"

Russell turned his face down shamefully; his mother extended her hands outward, touching each of his cheeks softly, prompting him to look back up towards her.

"Oh, sweetheart. I've never been more proud."

Notes:

Barry and Tug appeared in S5E15 (Singing and Dancing) and S5E16 (Jeff Day). It's a little silly to bring them back so much later, but I love those guys *so I'm doing it*. (Bring back all the awesome ROE characters, yeah! ...Major character call backs coming in part 3 of this series, I hope you'll follow me there in a few chapters. xx)

Chapter 21: Affairs

Notes:

Happy new year. <3

(There are a couple of chapters left in this story. I will most likely continue writing a part 3 in this series to silence my plot bunnies, even if interest is waning. x)

By the time Jeff crawled into bed, he found Audrey quite engaged in her phone...again. She wore a small smile as her vision shifted to the distance, as if in thought of something, consideration.

"Aud?"

"Huh, what?" She placed her phone on the nightstand quickly upon realizing Jeff was next to her, feigning a yawn. "Sooo tired. G'night, honey." She leaned over, granting him a quick kiss before laying down to sleep.

Jeff stared at her for a long while before placing his head upon the pillow, thinking a million jumbled thoughts. She definitely had something to hide.

----------

Jeff had skipped the salad and gone straight for a burger and fries, but he was still eating slowly. He was severely sleep deprived, having spent the majority of the last couple nights staring at his wife as she slept. Thinking. Wondering. His stomach churned now at the thought of Audrey with another man. Barry...who the hell was Barry? Probably some little guy. Ugly. Frail. Weak muscle tone.

He'd kill the punk.

Russell walked past, grabbing a handful of fries from Jeff's plate.

"Hey, what the hell?"

"You owed me," spoke Russell through a full mouth.

Russell and Timmy slipped into the other side of the booth and Jeff found himself a strange combination of annoyed and thankful for the temporary distraction.

"Well," Jeff quipped, "what do we have here? If it isn't Gaydalf and Dumbledork."

Russell scoffed and laughed at Jeff mockingly with a shake of his head. "Uhm, excuse me, different universes? And Gandalf knew some KICKASS magical stuff, thank you very much. Plus have you SEEN the size of his staff? I mean....." He rose a brow suggestively. "No complaints."

It took Timmy a moment to realize that both Jeff and Russell had taken to looking at him in response to Russell's claim; he sputtered a moment, reached for a cup of coffee he didn't have, and then aimed across to Jeff's plate, snatching several fries and shoving them in his mouth in desperation.

"You guys touch one more fry, and I'll snap you both in half like one."

Timmy chewed a bit slower, and swallowed painfully.

"So...anyway..." began Russell, but he was promptly distracted by the sound of Timmy's text notification.

It had been going off all morning, and Timmy grabbed his phone again, quickly, scanning the screen and chuckling to himself lightly now as his fingers tapped a quick reply. As he brought the phone down he looked to Russell very slowly. "...What?"

"Okay, what's going on?"

"Oh, this? It's nothing, really. Needn't concern yourself."

"Huh." Jeff leaned towards Russell and Timmy curiously. "That's what Audrey keeps saying..."

Russell and Jeff met in a silent stare, Russell trying to decipher just what it was Jeff was attempting to communicate, their faces both growing distant and contemplative. It wasn't long after that Timmy's phone rang, pulling Russell from the uncomfortable silent tête-à-tête with Jeff.

"Yes, hello!" Timmy greeted his caller cheerfully, but as he listened, his demeanor grew tense. "Yes...yes, I see. Tonight? Well, I don't...I don't know." He looked to Jeff and Russell, standing from the table as he addressed them: "Excuse me just a moment," and he dashed off in the direction of the restrooms to converse in private.

Jeff saw a look of concern flood Russell's face as he watched Timmy leave. Part of him was strangely grateful to be sharing the table with Russell right now; he couldn't quite place his finger on why. Maybe he was thankful to be around somebody whose life seemed just a little screwier than his. Well, more than a little.

"So, did you take care of your little, uh, parental problem?"

"Oh." Russell turned back towards Jeff, tapping the table nervously. "Well, my dad thinks I'm married to a woman named Kimmy and my mom wants to send us on a honeymoon to Jamaica, so...yeah, I guess."

"You guys are weird, you know that?"

"Well, what about you, ever figure out why Audrey was turning into Betty Crocker?"

Jeff still wasn't inclined to opening up to Russell, but something funny was happening. He realized in this moment, sitting in his usual spot in the diner, weary, body aching with anxiety...that he had nobody else. Well, at least nobody he could really open up to about stuff like this. He had Russell, and he had Adam...who was probably busy pummeling Jen, trying to accidentally make a mythical hybrid baby. He really should work on expanding his horizons, but right now...

"Okay, here's the deal. I think she's, uh..." He paused, muttering in thought. "Hey, how did Timmy act?"

"Whattaya mean?"

"When he was screwing around on ya?"

"What??"

"With his, uh, his ex, wasn't he...?"

"No, it wasn't like that! He wasn't sneaking around! I was the one sneaking around, he pulled that crap right in front of me!"

"Wait, what?"

"What? Nothing, what were we talking about...? Oh...you think Audrey's having an affair?!"

Choosing to ignore Russell's confusing little outburst, Jeff aimed to continue detailing his dilemma. "I don't know, I mean..." Russell looked a little too interested. "No. I really shouldn't jump to conclusions, Audrey's a good wife, we've got a great marriage. Forget I mentioned it."

"No no no, listen, I happen to have rather extensive experience in this area."

"Being cheated on?"

"Uh...sure, let's go with that. Now listen, here's how you know a woman's messing around on you. And by the time she ends up with a guy like..." He had gestured to himself, but paused now, looking around to recover. "A, uh, a guy of rather questionable morals, shall we say...you have to assume that ya done screwed up in a, uh-pretty big way, fella."

"Well, what'd I do?! I didn't do anything!"

"Can't help you there, buddy, but is she giving you all the tell-tale signs?"

"Come on, what signs?"

"Acting funny, doing weird stuff with no reasonable explanation?"

Jeff sighed out in frustration; he couldn't take much more of this. But then, something clicked in his mind. He grew pensive as the pieces seemed to fall into place. "Uh...brownies. Dozens...dozens of brownies."

"Dozens of guilt brownies. She's got a guilty conscience, she's compensating with chocolate. Classic move."

"What...?"

"She's getting mysterious texts, phone calls, she hide her phone from you?"

Jeff slapped a hand down on the table. "Ohh, my gosh! That's all she's been doing, it's driving me crazy!"

"Yeah?! Hides her phone from ya when she gets text messages, says 'ohh, honey, don't worry about it, no big deal,' find excuses to leave the room and take secret phone calls from her secret lover?!"

"Like Timmy was just doing?"

"Yeah, like Timmy was just--!" Russell froze, eyes glazing over. His voice went very small. "No, not like...not..." He sat in silent consideration for far too long.

Jeff took the initiative of speaking up again, breaking Russell from his trance. "I've been checking her phone."

This was enough to distract Russell temporarily, though fresh worries lingered in the back of his brain; he leaned forward towards Jeff like a child who'd just been offered a piece of candy. "Whoooa. You're spying on her??"

"I shouldn't have done it, I feel terrible...I shouldn't betray Audrey's trust like this."

"You totally should! This is great, this is wonderful!"

"Yeah, I don't think you're the right person to talk to about this, so..." Jeff prepared to stand, but Russell quickly shot him down.

"No, sir! You've come to precisely the right person! What was on the phone, sir?!"

Jeff was quite certain he should no longer be talking to Russell about any of this; Russell, whose hands were clenched in taught fists which he pounded firm against the table, his teeth gritted in determination as though they were about to go to war.

So whatever compelled Jeff to provide Russell with the following bit of information must have been nothing but a streak of sheer stupidity: "He sent her an address."

"He sent her an address?! And you're wasting time sitting here, why aren't you over there defending your territory?!"

"I thought about going over there, you know, just to scope the place out, see what it is I'm dealing with? Duplex...seedy motel. But...that's not enough to go on, I mean, what if I'm all wrong about this?"

"Gotta trust your gut on this."

"But it's happened before, you know, weird misunderstandings...comical...hijinks..." His voice trailed off into a sigh, as if he was trying to convince himself.

"This isn't some wacky weekly sitcom! Read the signs, man, she's halfway out the door, and you're gonna lay there and take it?!"

Jeff's brow furrowed in thought, the lines of his face all growing more and more tense. Russell took this as a positive sign; he was coming around to his side, he was taking this seriously. As well he should, this was serious business. Finally Jeff leaned forward, speaking confidentially.

"You know what's really weird? This morning, I caught her on the phone, and she pulled that whole thing again, the whole 'it's nothing, don't worry about it,' thing, and she went to leave the room, but she hesitated...like maybe she had something to tell me, like she was hiding something..."

"Uh-huh, of course she did."

"But all she did was come back and she kissed me and told me she loved me."

Russell clapped and made a grand gesture with his hands. "Nng, that's it, that's the one, right there! Sure sign of guilt, it's tearing her up inside, man, she has to pull out the romantic gesture because it soothes her guilty conscience!"

Jeff leaned back in the booth, eyeing Russell suspiciously. "Listen, why the hell do you care so much, what is this?"

Russell gave a shrug. "I don't know, it's the least I can do. We're friends, aren't we?"

"No," said Jeff with a shake of his head.

Russell frowned a little. "Fine, whatever, I'm a romantic, I don't like seeing a beautiful marriage on the rocks, so shoot me."

"Since when the hell are you a romantic?"

"Since when am I not a romantic? Come on!"

Jeff stared at Russell, jaw agape, trying to pin down what was happening. No...no, it wasn't coming to him. The guy just kept getting loonier and loonier, and there was no reasonable explanation for--

"So sorry I ran off in such a hurry..." Timmy walked back towards the table sounding a touch distraught, making great effort to appear pleasant in the presence of the other men.

Jeff cocked his head in Timmy's direction, then back to Russell. Oh, yeah. Couple of Loony Tunes, right there.

Russell's crazed demeanor with Jeff moments earlier broke in Timmy's presence; he was surprisingly soft. "What was the call about, Tim?"

"Oh, nothing, it was...it was nothing."

Russell felt a knot begin to form in his stomach.

"I'm going to go home, Russell, I...I suddenly feel a bit ill, I need to think."

"Yeah...yeah, okay. Take care of yourself."

Timmy turned to Jeff with a small nod, which Jeff returned before Timmy turned to walk away; but he turned back in careful consideration. He looked dreadfully burdened, but dared not discuss it; not here, not now.

He slipped back in beside Russell and reached for his hand, gripping it perhaps just a bit too hard. And then, quite unexpectedly, a decidedly unusual gesture on Timmy's part, he kissed Russell quickly on the cheek and spoke a soft: "I love you," before slipping out of the booth and walking swiftly away. Russell watched him go, breath caught. What was that...?

Jeff turned to Russell, clearing his throat. "What was it you said about getting mysterious phone calls and making excuses to leave? And the, uh, the guilty conscience and--"

Russell narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "Don't."

"Just saying."

----------

Jeff had double and triple-checked the address. This couldn't be the place, could it? Russell seemed less phased, having marched straight up the steps of the building in question, leading Jeff into the elevator with a casual whistle. Jeff looked to the address one last time, pushing a button and setting the elevator in motion.

"Why would they be meeting in an office building?"

Russell shook his head with a slight chuckle. "You really are an amateur."

Jeff sighed gruffly in irritation. "Why are you even here?"

"I paid for the cab."

"You jumped in the damn cab, I didn't think you'd actually get in the cab with me!" Jeff watched Russell shrug him off and he did his best to overlook the elf who'd infiltrated this little undercover investigation with him before reiterating his earlier point, speaking mostly to himself: "Seriously, who has an affair in the middle of an office building?"

"Pft! Such an amateur!"

"At not-so-clandestine affairs? Yes. Yes, I am, and you know what, you're a married man now, you shouldn't be so proud of yourself for being such an expert in this area. What if Timmy was here right now?"

Russell paused a moment in thought, nearly letting the magnitude of Jeff's words sink in; something was holding him back, and he brushed it off with a laugh. "You think he doesn't know? You're forgetting how many women he let into my office. How many of them you think were attached?"

"I don't know, how many?"

"Eh, I don't know either, none of my business."

"Uh-huh," said Jeff, watching the light on the elevator arrows move up steadily, stomach growing increasingly sick as he neared his destination. "And, uh, whattaya think Timmy's up to right now? Or is that none of your business?"

"He said he'd be at home."

"Yeah, the texting, mysterious phone call, the little, uh, kiss on the--"

"Shut up."

"...Shouldn't you be off defending your territory?"

"Shut up," Russell repeated a bit more firmly, making his point quite clear.

"Whatever." Jeff didn't have time for this. Let Russell be an idiot on somebody else's watch, he was about to face the man who had somehow managed to draw Audrey away from him. He must be one hell of a guy to manage such a feat. He had to be some corporate hot shot, some big guy with a lot of money or a great body who didn't pass out five minutes after sex or sing really loud in the shower even though he couldn't sing a lick. Oh, god, had she heard this guy sing in the shower? Had she seen this guy in the shower? Had she been with this guy in the shower? What kind of body wash did this guy use? He probably smelled like a million bucks. He probably bathed in pure gold. Pure, liquid gold. Hell knows he could probably afford it. Jeff could barely afford new underpants these days, what with one kid and another on the way. Who would wanna stick around for a guy with ripped underpants?

"Jeff!"

Russell was standing outside the elevator, holding the door for him. Jeff gathered himself enough to leave the elevator, and examined his surroundings. What the hell was this?

"What the hell is this?"

The walls were lined with various neatly framed movie posters; Star Wars. They walked the hall slowly, the films going up chronologically as they spoke.

"Who are we looking for?"

"Uh...Barry. But I'm starting to think--"

"Okay, so what's our cover?"

"Cover?" Jeff hadn't thought this far ahead. He'd only come to scope the place out, and in his slight daze he was allowing Russell to take this a step too far. He needed to wake up.

Too late. They were greeted now by a desk covered in action figures from a variety of franchises: Frodo, Master Chief, Mr. T., Yoda. And sitting at the desk was a man dressed in a red shirt, Starfleet insignia on the breast. Russell got the joke immediately, turning to Jeff with a sharp laugh.

"He's a redshirt!" Jeff stared at him blankly. "Star Trek? He's low rank, man, he's -- never mind, it's funny. I should start dressing my assistants like this!" Turning back to the man: "Hey, looking for a Barry."

"You the sandwich guy?"

"Uhh..." Russell took a moment to process the question. "Yyyess?"

"Oh, awesome, they've been waiting for you. Who's this guy?" the man asked, gesturing to Jeff.

"Uhh, he's my...assistant...sandwich guy?"

"Oh, okay, cool. You guys can go right in."

That was the last straw for Jeff; he hoisted Russell back by the collar, away from the receptionist's desk.

"We're not doing this."

"What? Why?"

"This is stupid! Look, there's obviously been some kind of misunderstanding, Audrey would never be messing around with a guy working in a place like this, I mean this place reads geek central. And seriously, who has an affair--"

"In the middle of an office building, I heard you the first ten times. And again, you wanna know how many times I've had sex at work? Because I can stand here telling you all the sordid details of who I've plowed, but I thought we came here to find out who's been plowing your wife."

Jeff groaned, looking towards the door next to the receptionist's desk...no. What was he thinking? Go home, talk to Audrey. Why in the hell was he letting Russell call the shots? Why in the hell was he--

"Hey!" The door opened, and a stalky, bearded man in casual attire complete with backwards baseball cap flashed a friendly smile. "You must be the sandwich guys!"

"Uhhh..." Jeff shook his head, ready to admit defeat and head for safer shores.

"Yeah, that's us."

Jeff snarled in Russell's direction; yep, he would kill him later. But as they were led into a bustling office space that smelled a little more like a college dorm room -- and looked like it too, complete with centralized ping-pong table, randomly placed bean bag chairs, and scattered pizza boxes, his mind began to linger back onto Russell's words: they'd come here to find out who was plowing his wife. Seriously, was one of these frat boys plowing Audrey?

Either way, there was no turning back now; they were in too deep. They were the Sandwich Guys.

----------

Timmy had started doing what he often did when his nerves got the better of him: toiling about. He'd tried reading, but couldn't focus, so he'd gone domestic, tidying up Russell's messes, straightening pictures on walls, finding every speck of dust, allowing all his nervous tics to take control.

He almost didn't hear the knock on the door, broom in hand, mind worn down with innumerous scattered thoughts. He opened it to find Russell's mother greeting him with a warm smile as she invited herself inside, walking past him without so much as an exchange in words.

She eyed the broom in his hand with slight repulsion and laughed gingerly. "Oh, Timmy, dear, don't tell me you've taken to cleaning? Don't you have somebody for that?"

"Oh..." Timmy observed the broom, setting it aside. "Russell did have someone, but I'm not really accustomed to such things, I'd simply rather take care of myself, you see. Besides, it helps me think..."

"Oh, how very novel, work helping one think? You're so adorable."

"Hm. Yes. At any rate, uhm...Ms. Dun--... Bunny--... Mothe--... I'm afraid Russell isn't in, at present."

"Oh, that's fine, darling. It's really you I'd like to see."

"Oh...oh, well, all right, uhm. I was just about to make tea, would you care for a cup?"

"Tea sounds lovely...oh, and Timmy? Do be a dear. Add some brandy to mine, if you've got it? And leave out the tea."

As soon as Timmy had slipped his way into the kitchen, Bunny made herself at home, examining her surroundings. She walked her way around the living room, surveying the shelves, the walls, as if trying to decipher just what her son was up to these days...what had led him to this place in his life.

The decor clashed awkwardly, a mix of tastes, a mix of cultures. Modern chic and hip couture ala Russell, a bit of ethnic flair and cultured charm ala Timmy. She settled finally on a grouping of family photos on the wall. To one side, a framed portrait of Russell and Timmy taken several months earlier; a reminder of their coming out to the gang, a fiasco of a day to be sure. A figurative and literal coming out of closets. To the other side, the most recent photo Timmy had of his family: him, Simran, Rahm, and Varsha. Smiling, happy, together...

"It's not the best brandy, but I do hope it will suffice."

Bunny turned to Timmy, grabbing the glass with a grateful nod, but her attentions turned back towards the photo on the wall. "Your family, Timmy?"

He had avoided looking at the picture as of late, but settled on it now reluctantly at her prompting. She noted the look in his eyes, one of sadness, perhaps a touch of longing, and she watched as his face turned down. Carefully, Bunny placed a finger under Timmy's chin, willing him to look at her.

"Do you need to talk?"

"Thank you...thank you, but..."

"Timmy, I wasn't there for Russell."

"Ms. Dunbar, I--"

"Oh, I know I wasn't. Not the way he needed me to be. And I know it's a little late to start, but Timmy, dear, you married him. You're mine now, you've doubled my workload. Oh! I'm not complaining, mind you...just please. Let me do my job, hm? As a mother?"

Timmy allowed himself to meet Bunny's eyes, and found in them something strangely familiar and comforting, a certain warmth which made him feel at home. And so he conceded with a soft smile.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you very much."

----------

Jeff and Russell were led to a large makeshift table-turned-desk, the man gesturing them to sit; they spotted two nameplates that read "Tug Skywalker" and "Darth Barry".

"So, I'm Tug." He shook hands with both of them before leaning back in his chair and shaking his head with a heavy sigh. "Man, we had a sandwich guy, and one day he just up and quit. We can't get a decent sandwich now to save our lives. We've got the pizza guy, the noodle guy, the cookie lady and the kid who brings the donuts every morning, but we're really itchin' around here for a good sandwich guy, y'know what I mean? Either of you fellas ever run a web development corporation?"

Jeff and Russell stared, stunned speechless.

"Yeah, guess not. Well, let me tell ya, it's cut-throat man. These are the things you've gotta think about, I tell ya, my job is never done, seriously."

A woman with long blonde hair, horn rimmed glasses, and a pert pair of...eyes approached, carrying a disc. "Those files you wanted, Tug."

"Oh, thanks babe. And uh, could you let Barry know the sandwich guys are here?"

She slank away vivaciously, the men watching her move...she stopped near a lanky man...could that count as a man? That couldn't be him. Ah, damn it. Jeff ran a hand slowly down his neck as the fresh-faced, eternally optimistic looking fellow walked their way, a light skip in this step.

The man extended a hand in greeting. "Salutations!"

"You're, uh, Barry?" asked Jeff, accepting his hand.

"That's what it says on the ID. State ID, not driver's ID. It's just when I miss my Ritalin I get a little swervy, so--"

"Hey, Barry?" Tug shot from behind the desk. "Oversharing."

Barry nodded in apology, taking his seat beside Tug...and added as a quick aside to his work companion: "Oh, I think I'm finally cracking down on Audrey."

Russell and Jeff leaned forward ever so slightly at Audrey's name.

"Oh, that's great man, we could really use her around here."

"Yeah, man, she was the best project manager we ever had. I mean, she was the only one we ever had, really, and she only stuck around for a few weeks, but still. Nobody else has even called us back, I think that's a pretty good sign, right?"

Tug and Barry smiled and nodded at one another, exchanging a congratulatory high-five before turning back towards Jeff and Russell.

"So," began Barry, "about those sandwiches..."

But Jeff and Russell had already made a quick dash for the exit.

Barry and Tug sighed heavy, defeated sighs.

"So...pizza?" asked Barry.

"Pizza," replied Tug.

----------

Bunny and Timmy sat comfortably on the living room sofa, Bunny sipping Brandy, Timmy sipping tea.

"So your family is in India?"

"Save for my sister, Simran. She's in Chicago. She works for a rather successful law firm, she's made a good life for herself there." He thumbed the corner of his cup with a weak moan. "Better than I have. Funny, she always looked up to me, and here I've made a grand mess of things, whereas she's doing quite well for herself."

"In what way are things a mess, dear?"

It was then that Timmy realized something: Bunny didn't know. She was unaware of the years of misery he'd endured at Russell's hands, of the tracking chip debacle that changed everything, of every small event throughout the years that had led to the inevitable place they now found themselves. And what was the sense in revealing all these details to her now? All she knew was that her son loved him...she seemed to accept this at face value, and she wanted to love him as well.

"You know, Ms. Dunbar--"

"Bunny."

"Bunny. You know, it...it really doesn't matter. For better or for worse, I'm here now."

"But you must get terribly homesick...and they're so far away, they must miss you so." She watched that same look return to his face; that forlorn pining for something just out of grasp. "Please, Timmy, what's troubling you so?"

He sipped his tea to stop himself from getting just a touch emotional in front of Bunny before willing himself to speak...it didn't help much, and his voice still came out soft and shaken. "I haven't spoken much to my family in recent days. Aside from my sister." He attempted to bring his cup back to his lips, but found his hand shook, and placed the cup carefully to the table. "I'm to speak with my parents this evening."

Bunny didn't want to drink alone, and placed her glass beside Timmy's.

"You don't sound as enthusiastic as one might expect. Don't you want to speak with them?"

Timmy nodded silently, looking away. He was beginning to notice every bit of mess he had missed; crumbs on the table, a bit of dirt on the floor, and he started to fidget. He wanted to move, to preoccupy himself with other things; he wanted to stop thinking.

Bunny, sensing Timmy's nerves, placed a hand gently to his leg, which had begun to shake lightly. "Am I to understand this all has something to do with certain recent developments between you and Russell? There is perhaps a touch of friction within your family?"

Timmy's shaking eased as he looked upon the woman, overwhelmed by her candor and the sense of empathy emanating from her in this moment. "Oh...oh, that's...that's very insightful of you."

"I'm smarter than I look." She patted his leg with a light chuckle. "Oh, but darling, if they wish to speak with you, then don't be frightened. Look how long it took Russell to tell me, and look at how ridiculous he was being. We're sitting here now, having a lovely conversation, aren't we?"

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. You see, my parents took quite well to Russell on the one occasion they did meet but, uhm...that was...was before all of...things have changed."

"Yes...yes, I see."

"If you don't mind my asking, it's taken me as something...something of a surprise that you're so open to the idea of..." Timmy couldn't bring himself to complete the thought, but found Bunny glaring at him, her brows arched as she waited for him to finish. "You'll have to forgive me, it's just that I might have taken you for a bit more..."

"Conservative?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so. What with Russell's apprehension in telling his father, and--"

"Oh, please!" She seemed so appalled by the statement that Timmy aimed to apologize before she cut him off. "Why do you think I divorced the man?"

"I assumed because you hated him."

"Well, yes, primarily. But he's also got a terrible stick up his...well, the man is terribly thick headed, dear. He's simply no fun. Well, that, and he was cheating on me with every woman from here to Saskatchewan...I'm not exaggerating, he kept a mistress there. Well, I was no nun, either, I mean--"

"Uhm..." They seemed to be getting a bit off track. "Russell tells me you would often...speak to him in jest about me. That we ought to..."

"Oh, not in jest, darling." She smiled quite coyly at him now, to which he couldn't help smiling back. "It was only ever in his best interest, mind you. Oh, but that was all your doing. Don't you remember the conversation we had so long ago? It's a parent's job to be there for their child...with love, not money. You reminded me of that."

"My father always said a parent's job is to keep a child on the straight and narrow, to ensure one succeeds in life." He grimaced a bit. Mm...straight and narrow; ironic now, given the situation. "Not to say that my parents weren't there for me, my goodness, I couldn't have asked for more loving, devoted parents. I just...I wish...I wish this was easier, I feel so lost, I..."

Bunny gripped Timmy's hand, which shook beneath her touch; once more she tilted his chin up softly, urging his eyes to meet with hers, and he blinked back the start of tears.

"You know, it's a frightening thing, having a child. Never knowing if they're safe, if they'll find somebody to look after them when you're not there..." She stroked his cheek in a soft, motherly fashion. "A kind hearted soul who only wants to love and be loved...well, dear, my Rusty found that."

Timmy sighed out, breath quivering.

She cupped his face now in both hands. "Sometimes love comes out in peculiar ways, but it's still love...your parents worry about you because they love you. So talk to them, hm?"

Timmy simply nodded in reply...and although he'd tried very hard not to, let forth soft tears, to which Bunny wrapped delicate arms around her son-in-law, holding him carefully, very gently, as though he may break; indeed, he already had, and quite unbeknownst to her, she'd somehow managed to help piece him back together.

----------

Jeff made a slow beeline for the kitchen upon entering his apartment.

Audrey stood holding Shea, watching him move; she had greeted him warmly and received no reply. She followed her husband in confusion to find him already having opened a beer and downed half of it in the time it took her to join him in the kitchen...uhm, ten seconds?

"So...what've you been up to?"

Jeff turned away with a heavy grimace. "Starting right out the gate with that one, couldn't build up to that sucker?"

Audrey's friendly tone dropped, the realization that Jeff had something to hide just made abundantly clear. "Okay, seriously, what's going on?"

Jeff downed the rest of his beer before turning back. "What, uh, what makes you think something's going on?"

"You walked straight in here without even looking at us...you're hiding something, what is it?"

Jeff nodded slowly. "Okay. Okay, but listen, you promise not to hold this over my head for about a million years?"

"I would never."

"You absolutely would."

A silent staring match. Audrey looked away with a shrug, giving Jeff the victory.

"Today I did just about the dumbest thing imaginable."

Audrey laughed lightly. "Come on, like you can beat your record? Those are pretty high stakes to live up to, I mean, you want me to go pull up the list?"

"Awh, come on, are you still keeping that thing?"

Audrey started to make her way back towards the living room. "Seriously, do I need to go get it, because--"

"I took advice from Russell."

She stopped abruptly, frozen in place. At first, she wasn't sure she'd heard correctly; she turned slowly back around, one brow arched sharply as she looked back at Jeff. He nodded in confirmation; yes, she had heard him correctly.

"Russell...Dunbar?"

"The only Russell we know, yes."

"Exactly...what kind of advice did you take from Russell?"

Jeff was still sleep deprived, still a touch past stupid, but he suddenly thought better than to incriminate himself in such an obvious way. "Yeah, y'know what, that's...not really important right now, what is important is that I realized something today."

"By taking advice from Russell?"

"Forget..." Jeff grit down, his body tensing, "...that I mentioned that sack of sleaze for a minute, huh, can ya, I'm leading up to something, here."

Audrey cradled Shea in one arm, placing a hand against her hip. "Okay, then. Lead up."

"I just..." All eyes were on Jeff. Audrey's eyes, Shea's eyes, bearing into him in that judgmental 'you're a moron' way the Bingham women so expertly excelled at; started the kid off young. Rrrggghh.

Audrey could tell Jeff was struggling, and her face softened, sass-hand falling from her hip. "Listen, uhm...can I...can I talk to you about something?"

"Yes!" Jeff gestured in excitement, perhaps a bit too excited as Audrey took a step back in surprise. "Yes, that's all I want, is...is for us to talk, Aud, I mean..." He took a slow breath. "What, what do you want to talk about?"

"You first, you said you were leading up to...I kind of stepped on what you were gonna say..."

"No, you first, my big mouth can wait, I--"

Audrey walked up to Jeff, placing a hand to his mouth with a small smile, urging him to be quiet. When she pulled her hand away, she kissed him softly, deeply; when she pulled back he laughed, almost in relief.

"Yeah," he said, "guess we haven't been doing much of that lately." Shea cooed, and he pointed to her playfully. "Guess who's fault that is, little lady?" He rubbed Audrey's stomach. "...And fetus."

"Well," Audrey said with a sigh, "Mommy and Daddy being morons might have a little to do with it."

Jeff looked back to Audrey, cupping her face with a hand. "If you need something, why don't you talk to me about it? I mean, if you want to go back to work--"

Audrey shot back lightly. "How...how do you know about that?"

Jeff closed one eye tight and hissed out. "I'll...I'll explain later. Just talk to me. No secrets."

Audrey began speaking quickly. "I haven't decided, it would be some at-home set up, and these guys are real kooks Jeff, it's really a dumb idea, but I'm so...I'm so bored and it's not that I'm not happy, I am, I love being a mother and I love you, I love Shea, I just...I'm just..."

"I know. It's okay, come here." He wrapped his arms around his girls, and she relaxed into him. And everything was fine.

----------

Russell creaked the door to the apartment open very slowly; he peeked inside carefully. No sign of Timmy. Suspicions rising...maybe he really hadn't gone straight home after all.

He should have learned a little something from the wild goose chase with Jeff, who had nearly executed him no less than thirty minutes ago; to quote, "I'll turn you into lunch meat and make a knuckle 'sandwich guy' outta you, y'son of a--"

But no, of course he hadn't learned a thing, and he had to get to the bottom of this...mysterious texts, phone calls pulling Timmy away out of the blue...something fishy was going on.

"Oh, hello." There he was. Traipsing out from the bedroom as if nothing was going on. Little husbandly pat on the back and kiss on the cheek as if everything was fine -- HA! "Your mother stopped by a bit ago, she wondered if you wanted to go out with her tonight."

"My mother?"

"Yes. I'm afraid I can't join you this evening, uhm...I wanted to talk to you about that, actually, might we--"

Yeah, sure as hell we will. "Who is it?"

Timmy took a step away. "What...?"

"Who've you been texting the last few days, huh?!"

Timmy's eyes narrowed. Ohhh, no. No, you can not be serious right now.

"Nonstop, you're on that stupid phone! I know it's not your little gal pal Jen, she's busy getting ransacked by that numbskull she calls a husband!"

Timmy sighed and spoke quite pointedly. "Shall we discuss the numbskull I call a husband, the one who's presently standing here making an utter fool of himself?"

"Oh...oh, me, really? Seriously, you're talking about me?"

"I don't believe I have another husband."

Russell motioned choking Timmy before spinning away, stomping his way into the kitchen. Timmy glared in his direction, huffing lightly and taking a moment to collect himself before storming a trail behind him.

Russell felt the kitchen door slam him firmly in the back and growled with a spin to face Timmy again, who wasted no time in stating his case in no uncertain terms.

"Now you see here, Russell Dunbar..."

"Ugghhh." Both names; talked down to as if he was a child. Russell rolled his eyes and turned away with a stiff grimace, sitting down at the kitchen island, chin planted firmly in a hand.

"I've had quite enough of your schoolboy tantrums. You initiate an argument and then walk away before I even have a chance to speak, you create conflicts out of nothing! What on earth is going on? Why are you so acting so--"

"Who is it?"

Timmy walked slowly to the other side of the island, facing Russell. He hesitated, focusing on Russell's face. He found him annoying, initially, childish and stupid, that familiar pout having overtaken him, the one he often wore when he didn't get his way; but Russell had a way of swaying Timmy. There was something else going on, and Timmy was innately aware of this. Russell was scared of something. Foolishly so, but nevertheless.

Timmy sat, folding his arms atop the island and waiting for Russell to ease up a bit; to show a touch of maturity. It wasn't coming, he realized, and so he gave in. "You really want to know?"

"Yes," said Russell softly.

"Kevin. I've been texting with Kevin."

This was when Russell's expression changed; the childish pout turned to contemplation...confusion. And finally he eyed Timmy suspiciously, and in a tone full of blatant accusation spat: "You're messing around with another guy? Since when were you into guys?!"

"Oh, for heaven's..." Timmy pressed fingers firmly into his temples, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to retain his sanity. "My god, Russell. Your assistant, Kevin."

Russell nodded as if it all made perfect sense now. "That's it. You've come together in solidarity over your hatred of me, it's some twisted assistant thing, shoulda seen this coming from a mile away, man, I should've--"

Timmy leaned across the island, grasping Russell by either side of his face. "STOP IT! You're doing that thing we talked about!"

Russell spoke softly: "What thing?"

"Being an idiot! You're being an idiot! Stop! Being! An idiot! Why on earth would I be having an affair with your assistant?!"

Russell blinked heavily, trying to come up with a reasonable response; he had none. "W-why, then?"

"I'm trying to prevent him from quitting. It seems to be working thus far, don't mess it up."

Oh. Well, sure, that...that made sense...kind of. "But...the phone call at the diner, and you, uh...left so fast..."

"Simran. It was Simran."

Timmy's hands remained firmly planted on Russell's face. Russell could no longer bear to look at him; his eyes closed slowly down. "I, uh...I just...thought..."

"I know what you thought."

"What...what did Simran..."

"My parents wish to speak with me tonight, it seems I can't avoid it any longer. I came home and I broke down." Timmy let go of Russell's face. "You came home and accused me of cheating. So thank you for that."

Russell looked upon Timmy's face, breath stuck in his throat, trying to figure out what to say, to back peddle on his own stupidity; and then stood quickly, retreating back into the living room.

Timmy sat awhile, alone. He'd needed Russell today, desperately; he still needed him. "Damn it."

Russell was hunched over on the sofa looking full of shame when Timmy came back out to the living room and sat beside him lightly, carefully. "It's all right, Russell."

Russell wouldn't look at him; he wouldn't speak to him.

Timmy poked Russell in the ribs...teasingly, playfully; to break the tension. "Perhaps you worry, uhm...because you love me." At this, Timmy received a welcome glance upward from Russell; one of stilted confusion, but still, a sign of recognition. Timmy smiled lightly. "Honestly, why would I be cheating on you?"

Russell groused, aiming to remain pensive. "Seriously, you need a list?"

"Again, don't be an idiot."

"I still have, uh...trust..."

"Trust issues, yes."

"When...when is..."

"We have therapy on Friday."

"Friday."

Timmy wove Russell towards him; Russell nestled into the crook of his arm. "It's just that, uh...yeah, just that I love you, I guess."

"Yes, well, sometimes love comes out in peculiar ways."

Russell laughed softly. "Where the hell did you get that crap, anyway?"

"...Your mother, darling."

Chapter 22: The Talk

Notes:

These next couple of chapters are a bit of a two-parter; next chapter(s) will be up in a more timely manner (and a real breather after this... *heavy stuff*). x

Adam rolled off of Jen, a satisfied grin overtaking him. He looked her way, her hair a mess, sweat lightly tracing her flushed face, breath still catching up to her from the intensity of their...no purpose whatsoever, on the fly, totally sporadic because why the hell not sex.

Damn, she looked hot. "I didn't think you'd be ready to go again so quick."

"Yeah," said Jen, turning her head with a coy smile. "Well, you really stand and deliver."

"I mean, you're like the Energizer Bunny. You just keep going, and going, and going, and going, and--"

Jen shot up, leaning over Adam and ceasing his endless prattling with a kiss. When she was confident he'd been silenced, she pulled back, laying her head against his chest quite peacefully.

"You're the best, Adam."

"No, you. You're the best. Man, at the rate we're going, it won't take any time at all until we--"

"Uh-uh!" Jen looked up towards Adam, placing a finger against his mouth. "Just sex."

"But great sex, right?" Adam grinned, running a hand down Jen's bare back, smooth and steady, resting his fingers along the edge of her thigh.

"Mm...yeah." She breathed down softly against Adam, happy, contented, forgetting the world, forgetting her end goal for just a minute. Nice. This was nice. "The best."

----------

Russell lay on the living room sofa staring at the light fixture on the ceiling, allowing his eyes to blur; Timmy had gone to the kitchen on the pretense of making coffee. Russell had placed a small bet with himself that he would come back with wine. It was just one of those evenings that called for a touch of inebriation.

Sure enough, a glass of red liquid sloshed gently beside him a minute later, and he blinked heavily, adjusting his eyes as he watched Timmy walk past him, sinking into the chair to his side.

Russell sat up with a weak groan. "So when's this thing happening with your folks?"

"Late tonight, perhaps ten o'clock...we have to account for the time difference, it will be morning there."

"I should stay."

"No, you go, see your mother...she won't be in town long."

"But I should--"

"There are some things I need to face on my own." Timmy overlooked Russell's sigh of frustration, taking a sip of wine...a large sip, and sat the glass down to avoid getting carried away. "I've been thinking."

"Y'know, you say that a lot?"

"Well, there's a lot to think about. Coming out at thirty isn't exactly by the book, is it?"

"Try fifty, pal."

"It isn't like a switch, is it?" A genuine question. "It couldn't be. It doesn't just magically happen one day. Poof, you're bisexual! Tada!"

Russell's sigh was one of irritation; he'd heard the words before, Timmy had a habit of bringing up this point whenever they had...this talk. But Russell hated...this talk. It made him markedly uncomfortable. He liked where they were now. He didn't like overthinking the details of who and why and how he was. Timmy left him very little choice.

"Said all this before, Timmy. And yeah, maybe it can just be a switch, I don't know, man. You always act like there's a rule book for this, there's not." He muttered under his breath, "Damn it, Tim."

Timmy continued speaking, not really listening. "I mean, perhaps, if it hadn't been you specifically, grinding me down slowly over a period of several agonizing years...it's not as if I was always attracted to men. But I also wasn't...not attracted to men. Does that...does that make sense?"

Russell rolled back down onto the sofa, glaring back towards the light. He sighed shortly. "Come on, can't you just be happy?"

"You think I'm not happy?"

Russell sputtered, waving a hand in Timmy's direction, forcing him into a moment of self-examination; Timmy became far too quiet, and Russell grew irritated, grumbling as he craned his head to look at him. He was making that face...that one he made when he was thinking just a bit too hard.

Fine...he needed something, he'd give him something. Russell glared back at the light, sighing out heavily. "I was."

"...You were what?"

"Attracted to men. Before...all this. I was. I just, uh...I decided...not to be."

Timmy hesitated briefly. It had taken over three months together in this new capacity for Russell to put forth such a confession, and yet there seemed no great revelation in the statement. They both spoke very directly now, having prepared somehow, it seemed, for this exchange.

"Yes. I know."

"Remember what I said about college?"

"You participated in certain group activities for the benefit of women."

Russell laughed a little, the halo of the light fading against the white of the ceiling. "Yeah, on a campus full of liquored up chicks, I couldn't get one to sleep with me unless I touched another dick?"

"Mm. Yes." And so the conversation lulled; Timmy leaned forward a bit, observing Russell's face, which seemed lost somewhere in memory. "Is there more to the story?"

"Later," he said softly.

"Russell, you can talk to me. Anything you need to--"

Russell sat up slowly, arms folding protectively over his chest. "Uh...late...later." But the look he gave Timmy was full of gratitude and love, and that was just enough before quickly reversing the attention comfortably back off of himself. "So hey, uh, your parents...it's gonna be fine."

Timmy, adjusting to Russell's abrupt redirect, reached for his wine, moving the glass gently in his hand and watching the liquid swirl. "I suppose."

"They know we're together, y'let that little cat out of the bag last time with your mom, right? So the coming out part isn't even happening tonight, pretty sure they get the picture."

"Yes, well, they've had a bit of time to warm up to the idea, I suppose. My being with a man. Not accept it, mind you, simply...warm up to it." He placed his wine back down, neglecting to take a drink. "But they don't know we're married. How am I to approach this topic? 'Oh, you know, we got married and things just sort of went from there.' My god, this isn't the typical order of events one expects when entering into a relationship, marriage is not generally the very first step."

"You were gonna do that whole arranged marriage thing. Come on, basically the same thing, right?"

"Seriously? First of all, a concept I came to reject, I didn't go through with it, did I? Second of all, a beautiful woman of similar age and caste, something of which you are clearly not, are we really going to make this comparison?"

"Yeah...Suneetha, right? She was hotter than me."

"Of course she was."

"I was really into her, too, I mean, geez. I really fell hard back then. Indian chicks, who knew I had a type, huh? First Suneetha, then...Radha..." Russell's mind started working double time, and gradually he and Timmy glared into one another, as if they had both just made a startling realization, in retrospect...and then they quickly scrubbed it down.

"You're right," Russell spoke finally, "it's different. I'd like to think...you and me, us getting married, that wasn't the first step for us, come on. Be honest. It's not like you married a stranger, you know me better than anybody."

"You know what I--"

"What's that whole thing, marry your best friend? Come on, man, you married your best friend. So just...tell your parents that you..." His voice went low at the blank look on Timmy's face, as though perhaps he'd said something stupid. "That you...married your best...friend."

A slow smile formed over Timmy's face. "We both know I would have denied it at the time."

"...And now?"

Timmy shrugged a bit. "Ask me on a good day."

Russell stood slowly; he walked his way towards Timmy. "Hmm..." He flicked him lightly on the shoulder. "Saaaay it."

Timmy clicked his tongue. "I don't know..."

"What if...I..."

"Don't you dare, Russell, you know I hate when you do it, I swear to all that is--"

Russell attacked in a flurry of fingers, tickling along Timmy's sides and landing underneath his arms, eliciting high-pitched laughter until he was rightfully thrust away from Timmy. Russell was laughing at the touch of irritation overcoming Timmy's face at his childish behavior and he savored the growl that came from the back of Timmy's throat right before he knelt before the chair, leaning in and kissing him, effectively thwarting his anger.

He leaned against Timmy's legs with a wide grin. "Come on, admit it!"

"Fine...you're my best friend. But I hate you."

"Yeah, well. Fair trade."

----------

Bunny had ordered room service. She'd offered to take Russell out, but aside from seeming a tad on edge, he'd arrived to her hotel dressed in a t-shirt, denim jeans, sneakers...far from appropriate attire for dining out at any respectable establishment. His head was really not in the proper place, she concluded, so they'd stay in for the evening.

"Your Timmy was quite shaken today."

Russell collapsed into the large plush armchair in his mother's hotel room, rubbing at his neck. "Yeah, he, uh, said you came over."

"I walked in and do you know what he was doing?"

"Cleaning?"

"I could scarcely believe it!"

"Yeah, he cleans when he's nervous," Russell reflected. "Our place is spotless..."

She laughed sharply. "He's a funny one." She gave her son a sly look. "But cute. He's got a marvelous little--"

"Ah, c'mon, Mom!"

"Well, he has. You've done well for yourself, that's all I'm saying."

Russell ran a hand down his face slowly, letting out a deep breath. God, this was weird. "Can we maybe not make this as awkward as possible? I get that you like the guy, but...I mean, wow. Laying it on a little thick."

Bunny sat carefully in a chair near Russell, crossing her legs very neatly. She thought a moment before beginning to speak again, succinctly, having given the words much consideration in recent days. "It's funny what one starts to see when one really dares to look. Rusty, do you remember your childhood?"

Russell's face squirmed in confusion. "Uhm...I'm gonna go with yes?"

"Well, I don't. I mean, not all of it. However--"

"You were a little busy." The statement had come across sharply, a bit more aggressively than Russell had intended, and he looked away from her, towards his own lap.

He brushed imaginary dust from his legs. She smoothed out the folds of her skirt. This went on for some time before Bunny brought herself to speak again.

"Rusty, I know we aren't very good at this...but if you could grant me a chance to try? Let's just...talk. I'm going somewhere with this." She hesitated slightly. "...I think."

Russell thought for some time, in careful consideration of his mother's offer. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to talk, at last. To really talk. To clear the air.

"Shall we discuss your childhood?"

Then again...that...didn't sound fun...

"You know, dear, I had a feeling..."

Russell looked slowly to his mother.

"I suspected you were harboring homosexual desires a good many years ago."

Yeah, no. Russell stood abruptly, speaking rapidly. "Y'know, my apartment's really not far, I could go change, we could still do this dinner thing, hard to talk with a mouth full of food, you like Italian, right, I know this great little Italian place--"

"Russell Dunbar, sit down!"

Russell stared at his mother where she sat, stunned into submission. Never in his life...ever in his life had she taken such an authoritative tone with him.

He attempted to talk back, but his voice came out very small. "You can't talk to me like that, I'm not a little kid...M-mommy..." He sank slowly back into his chair.

Perhaps this mothering thing really didn't befit Bunny; she wasn't accustomed to it, but she hauled back, putting on what she perceived to be the correct tonality for the situation, finger wagging towards Russell with every word. "I don't care how old you are, young man! You're my son, I'll speak to you how I please, be you five or thirty-five!"

"I'm fifty!" he said with considerable snark, as though placing the final nail in his mother's coffin...you're old, Mom, deal with it.

She grasped at her chest at his forced jolting into reality, easing herself back into a place of security before carrying on in a calm, sensible tone. "Let's not fight, Rusty, please."

But Russell was not prepared to face his own realities, he'd stupidly broken down enough in recent days without her help, and he could tell his mother was apt to traverse these roads if he allowed her the chance.

"All right," she concluded. "I'll talk, you'll listen. Is that fair?"

He shrugged one shoulder and stood again in defiance, taking to walking the room; examining the decor, as though he were actually interested in table lamps and reprints of gauche paintings by two-bit nobodies. What was this, puppies on the beach? Why was this in such an upscale hotel? ...Wait, was his mother still talking? What was his mother talking about?

"Rusty." He felt then a hand fall upon his shoulder, very delicate fingers wrapping gently, touching a hint of skin past the neck of his t-shirt. His mother's touch was warm, and for a moment he thought he might turn rapidly, hold her like a small child would, needy and uninhibited. But he didn't. He closed his eyes tightly, corking back his emotions as her words drifted softly past his ears. "We've waited so long, darling. Let's talk?"

----------

And so Timmy made the call. He felt his heart begin to beat more rapidly with each unanswered ring. Perhaps they wouldn't answer and he'd be free for one more day; one more day of worrying, of having this cloud over his head, of not knowing what they were thinking. No. No, they needed to answer.

Please answer...and try to understand. I didn't mean to fall in love with him...I just did. I tried not to, oh how I fought tooth and nail not to, clawing, biting like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth I tried to get away...but I love him now. Perhaps, somehow, I always have...from that first day of unending torture...that which would have driven away any reasonable man, any man with a bit of sense ingrained within him, any man with an ounce of pride, any man who--

Timmy groaned internally, his head aching, praying they could comprehend that which seemed at its root incomprehensible; and they answered. The video connected, and he looked on the faces of his mother and father - Varsha and Rahm, who extended warm, loving smiles, and for a moment he eased. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but simply seeing them, having taken the first step had released a bit of tension. Still, despite their pleasant dispositions, he sensed at once that they were just as nervous as he was. Certainly, they were doing their best to appear welcoming, but there was a quiet tension in the air, none of them extending a greeting at first, nobody wanting to risk breaking the reconnection that had taken quite so long.

Timmy managed finally to push down his anxiety, though his face spoke for him beyond his words, making his apprehensions clear. "Mother, Father. So good to see you."

Rahm nodded softly. "Timir." It seemed he was searching for more words, not wanting to jump directly into the matter at hand. All three of them wished to avoid small talk, knowing precisely where the conversation was headed, but it seemed in rather poor taste to rush matters in such a way. "How are you keeping yourself? Are you well?"

"Oh, yes...yes, I'm quite well. And yourself? How...how's work?"

"You know me, I stay busy. I heard you were between jobs. Simran says this is still the case?"

Timmy instantly regretted leading towards this question. "Yes...I'm still between jobs."

"How are you able to pay your bills? We're growing concerned. It must be getting quite difficult."

"I had a bit in savings...but rest assured, we're managing fine for the time being on Russell's--" Timmy cut himself off at the realization that he had spoken Russell's name, diverting his eyes from the screen. Damn it. He spoke softly: "Well, that was something of a natural...a natural segue, I suppose."

Rahm sighed heavily. "Yes, I suppose it was."

And there came the first of what would be several drawn out silences between them; it seemed to last a great touch longer than it likely did...seconds felt like minutes. Tense. Thick.

"Timmy?" Varsha's gentle voice came between the men finally, and Timmy managed to look back to her. "Timmy, I already know the answer...still...the last time we spoke. I...saw the way he looked at you...the two of you...you are...?"

"Yes. Yes, Mother, we are."

"For how long? When we last visited, when we went out to dinner with you and your friends, were you...were the two of you, then?"

Timmy's eyes shot very wide. "Oh! Oh, good heavens, no. You saw how we composed ourselves that evening, we argued the entire time."

Rahm shook his head with a heavy look of contemplation. "We've been discussing that dinner at great length since you last spoke with your mother."

"Yes," said Varsha softly, "I could never understand why your employer would go to so much trouble to make such an impression on us. I mean, he was very charming." She still had that look about her from their last conversation...the one of great apprehension, and yet a subtle curiosity...a need to know. "Why would somebody make such an effort to impress one's family as mere work colleagues?"

Timmy had to question this, as well...yes. Yes, why would he have gone to so much trouble at the time, even back then? He really had missed a great number of signs, hadn't he? His parents noted the look of silent introspection on his face, wondering just what this look could mean, until his father broke him from the trance he now found himself lingering in.

"We visited not half a year ago," said Rahm. "We find it difficult to believe things could change so quickly."

"As do I," spoke Timmy shortly. But he rushed to attempt to piece together an explanation, leaning forward, voice growing desperate. "Mother, Father, you must understand, Russell and I, our relationship is...it's always been very complicated. Up until quite recently, I wouldn't have been willing to admit...I mean, I was blind to the underlying...it took quitting my job to realize...it's been just over three months."

"Timir, I'm an old man. I'm no fool, what you're saying makes no sense."

"Yes, well, I'm a young man, I'm very much a fool. I admit it makes no sense, but I'm telling you the truth, Father, I'm...I'm sorry." Timmy sat back, holding up a hand in apology.

"Son...you're not a fool. You're a well educated, bright young man. You should know better. What kind of trap have you fallen into with this man?"

"I'm book smart, Father. In matters of the heart, I'm afraid I'm a terrible fool, sometimes." Timmy was seldom so forthright with his father; he had little choice, this time. "But not in this case, not any longer. I'm with Russell, he hasn't trapped me. He isn't just...some man." He paused; reflected. "He's my best friend."

There was a warmth around Timmy suddenly, as if Russell was with him now, holding him, protecting him. He was safe. Everything was fine. Thank you, Russell.

"And...I...care for him. Very much." He fidgeted; swallowed lightly. "I love him. I'm afraid I can't explain this in any more eloquent terms...in any way that will make it acceptable." He turned his face down, away from the camera. He'd said it all; there was no pulling the words from the air, and he left them there for his parents to do with as they may.

It seemed they were quite unsure what to do with them, a great deal of silence passing. The men sat stoic, unflinching. Finally, gratefully, the gentle presence of Varsha's voice broke through again, assuring Timmy that all hope was not lost.

"We don't quite understand...but Timmy?" She waited for him to look back to the screen. "That simply makes us the fools, doesn't it?"

He sighed out gently.

"We love you. Help us to understand, Timmy."

"How long?" interjected Rahm -- solemnly, shortly.

Timmy stirred a bit at the knowledge that his father would not be letting up quite so easily...though he was not surprised. "As I said, it's been just over three months."

"No...how long have you felt homosexual desires?" Rahm asked the question bluntly, but with a great deal of reluctance; as soon as the words left his mouth he shook his head slightly, eyes closing down regretfully. He recovered, looking back on Timmy.

Timmy knew the question had been coming, but it still threw him, and he was not quick to answer. "I'm afraid it's not that simple. I wish it was."

"You always seemed interested in women. Was it all a deception?" His father's voice came across a touch accusatory, although perhaps it wasn't his intention.

"No, of course not, Father, I...I'm still attracted to women. Both...both women and men."

Rahm turned to Varsha and Timmy heard a soft yet assured, "Ah, you see? Still hope."

"No," countered Varsha. "You didn't see the way Russell looked at him." She tensed slightly, as if she and Rahm had been avoiding speaking of Russell directly; as if he was not to be spoken of in name.

Rahm looked back to Timmy. "If things don't work out between you and...this man."

"He has a name," said Timmy pointedly; he regretted the outburst at once.

Rahm wasn't accustomed to Timmy taking such initiative with him, but was obedient to the request. "Russell, then. If, for some reason, things should not work out with Russell, would you pursue future relationships with men?"

Timmy sputtered. He knew he had to reveal the entirety of the situation to his parents; he wasn't ready. He couldn't; don't. "It's going to work out. Russell and I have been together in some capacity for a good while now, and..."

"Dating is complicated. That's why we avoided such frivolities. We had of course hoped you would follow in our footsteps with an arranged--"

"I'm not dating him!" Impulsive; he had to say it. Just tell them.

Rahm and Varsha grew quiet...confused.

"I'm...we're..." Timmy stirred, groaned gently, nervously.

Rahm was having none of this. "What are you attempting to tell us?"

Timmy was growing increasingly hot, wanting to run away now. No, they weren't supposed to know this part, he wasn't supposed to tell them this part. Damn it, Timmy. "Please...please understand, there's a reasonable expla...explanation. Mother, do...do you remember when I..." His leg shook almost uncontrollably. "When I said I'd lost my work visa, that I had sorted it out?"

"Yes..."

"It was sort of Russell's fault, you see. We'd had a falling out, and...and in order to keep me in the country, he sort of...we kind of...you see, there was the minister in the hospital...no, that's...that's too much to explain..." He didn't want to say it, but they weren't making this easy for him as they stared straight into the camera, waiting for him to finish. "He made...he made a proposition and I accepted. So we're, uhm...we're not merely living together as roommates, it's a bit more--"

Rahm decided finally to end his misery. He spoke flatly, his face showing no emotional response. "Timir, are you attempting to tell us you've married this man?"

Timmy turned his head down, nodding in the affirmative. "Yes."

And there came a long silence...as if no more could be said. No more persuasions to be made, no more discussions to be had...married. He was married...to a man. To...Russell.

That made it all different, somehow.

Timmy dared not look back at the screen through all the silence...he couldn't bear to see their faces, to face their reactions to the news they'd just been handed. The conversation thus far had already been too much, and they'd barely begun...no, this was all too much.

And then came Varsha's voice, soft, reassuring. "I believe he's a good man."

Timmy's eyes ventured precariously back towards the screen.

"Funny. Boisterous and a tad ridiculous at times. But a good man. Timmy?"

"...Yes?"

"When...when did you get married?"

"As I said, it's been...over three months now. In...in May."

"What day?" Her smile was warm, though tears graced her face. "I...would like to know when your and Russell's anniversary is."

----------

The hotel food wasn't the best, but had come with ideal timing, tearing Russell and Bunny out of the most awkward of situations. Just as they had been on the precipice of conversation, the knock had come upon the door, much to Russell's relief, and the two found themselves seated now at a small table in the center of the room.

"Timmy makes this better," observed Russell at last, but he kept eating, not daring to speak another word.

"Oh, Timmy cooks?"

"Mm!" Russell showed a genuine sign of interest; the one topic they seemed they could bond over, and he forgot his vow of silence. "Oh, sure, he's a great cook, we should feed you before you leave."

"Sounds wonderful!" Bunny dropped her fork, a thought occurring to her. "You know, you used to be a marvelous cook."

"Yeah, well..."

"Whyever did you stop?"

"Change of interests. Interests change..." Russell took a bite, diverting the topic. "Good, this is good."

Bunny knew precisely what the change of interest had been. And so, just like that, she was pulled back to the task at hand. Dinner could wait. "You know, Rusty, when you went to live with your father, I saw less and less of you, and our time together became...very precious to me."

Russell stopped his eating, abandoning his plate with a light shove and reaching instead for his glass of Chardonnay. He sighed shortly; he swigged and swallowed roughly, forcing the alcohol down his throat.

Precious. Sure. That's when the presents had started. She'd stay for awhile, watch him open another expensive gift, then whisk herself away somewhere. His father would be locked away in an office someplace, and Russell would be with the nanny. Yeah...real precious time, family bonding, great stuff.

"And your father, of course, he was a nefarious Lothario. Of course, I wasn't much better, but my god, your father...and for a time, I was worried. You seemed to follow in his footsteps, even as a child. There were parent-teacher conferences, you caused a terrible stir."

Russell nodded in recognition of this fact. He'd nearly been expelled for sexual misconduct, his focus more on co-eds and female faculty than studies...

"But you were also very sensitive. I saw this side of you, and I did my best to nurture it. I had you enrolled in the arts, in any extra-curricular activities I could...as I said, you could have been an expert chef, not to mention your mastery of the violin, and you were quite a gifted painter..."

"Uggh..."

"Your father raised certain objections after a time...about how I chose to encourage certain traits in you. You know what they say about sensitive men."

Russell palmed his face, tensing uneasily before taking another swig of alcohol...glass empty. Damn it.

"I mean, certainly not all sensitive men turn out to be gay."

"Bi."

"And not all masculine men are heterosexual. Why, I once dated a prize fighter, strong as the day is long, do you know what happened?"

"He was gay?"

"Have you heard this story?"

Russell's voice tensed along with every line of his face. "I get it, you knew I wasn't straight since I was a kid because I was artsy fartsy, or something. I'm...not enjoying this, can we not do this anymore?" Russell took to his feet in search of something, anything. He settled on a mini-bar, and began to examine the liquor, seeking the fastest escape route from his mother's present line of conversation.

"That's not what I'm saying at all, Rusty, I'm dreadfully poor with words." She stood, following his path towards the alcohol; she pointed to a bottle. "Try that one."

He snatched at the bottle, but put it back with a roll of his eyes as she continued talking.

"I simply mean to say that I knew there was more to you than the endless skirt chasing your father was so inclined to. At any rate, once you began to veer from your extra-curricular activities in favor of certain...other activities, you seemed to bond a great deal more with your father than you did me. I felt rather left out."

Russell could have said a great deal back to this; about how neither of his parents spent any real amount of time with him, about how he wasn't a pawn to be used by either of them, a play thing to fit their role of perfect child, how he was sure he had never really fallen in line with either of their expectations. But she seemed genuine in her statement, a pout gracing her face in memory, as if he had done the abandoning and not vice versa. Maybe this made her feel better, somehow. Let her have it. Whatever. It wasn't really worth further heartache for either of them.

Bunny sighed out heavily. "There was an incident. We were visiting you on campus, when you were in college...?" She took to walking slowly away, back facing him. "Terrible day, your father and I were making every effort to come together, even in hourly bursts...parental duties, you know."

"Bad idea."

"Dreadful. I doubt we attempted such a feat again." She whipped back around. "And you were with a young man."

She continued pacing the room very slowly, and although she hadn't meant to cause such a reaction, Russell felt suddenly under interrogation.

"You seemed quite friendly with this fellow, and he was to accompany you to a show that evening, a musical surely, the type you liked. And your father--"

"Dad said I looked like a fag." Bunny turned her attentions to Russell, whose words were laced heavily with memory. "He said going out with a guy like that to a show like that made me look a certain way. And why was I minoring in a bunch of sissy classes, and why was I--"

"His remarks were rather flippant...but you appeared positively crushed. Was he somebody special?"

Russell laughed the question off. "Just a guy, we hung out." One of those guys from group sex. He...liked me. He'd stick around after the chicks left. We'd mess around. Without the chicks. I was scared shitless.

"If it's any consolation, your father never put two and two together. He's something of an ignoramus." She walked up very near to Russell. "You get it from him, I would expect. Being something of an ignoramus."

"Wait, what??" Russell pulled himself from reminiscing; perhaps he was oddly grateful for the insult.

"It took you thirty years to get over something your father said?"

Yes, of course. A ridiculous notion...that something a parent says might affect a child? Pfft! Russell allowed his mother this bit of comfortable denial; she'd done her fair share to scar him, as well. He wasn't prepared to open each wound tonight.

"It's not just that," Russell managed. "It's complicated." Broke that...date. Never talked to that guy again. Stopped messing around with other men. I was SCARED.

"How complicated could it be?"

"I like women, Mom, I really like women, we established this! And I was landin' my fair share of tail--" He backed down a bit, landing eyes with his mother who made great effort in passing down a reprimanding glare. He cleared his throat and smoothed out his hair. "I mean, uh...I spent my time with a lot of...lovely...ladies until fairly recently, I mean...it was gonna take a lot to pull me away from all of that."

"Well," sighed out Bunny. She placed a hand softly upon Russell's arm, smiling gently. "He's quite a lot, isn't he?"

Russell finally eased, the conversation having drifted back to softer waters. His mother's endless discussion of Timmy, initially having been irritating, now brought him a sense of comfort and normalcy. Yes...let's stay here.

"Yeah, Mom...he's a lot, all right."

Chapter 23: Karaoke

Jen slipped back in the bedroom, wearing that little black number Adam liked so much...the one that made all the right stuff pop out in all the right places. He sat up slowly in bed, eyes darting up and down the length of her curvature...ohhh, yeah. But....ohhh, he hurt. Not that he was complaining.

"Oh, man...again? You're already ready to go again?"

Jen attempted a voracious smile, but somehow it came across more as a goofy grin. "Ohhh, yeah!"

He smirked with a slight chuckle. "Wearin' me out here, babe."

A ring from Jen's side of the bed broke Adam's gaze...he looked to it in hesitation, then to Jen, then to the phone...

"Who is it?" asked Jen finally.

Adam reached for the phone with a sigh just as it stopped ringing, looking for the caller. "It was Timmy."

"Oh!" She smiled that stupid smile she always wore when Timmy's name came up these days, dropping all signs of sexuality as she plunked gracelessly onto the bed, retrieving her phone. "I wonder what Timmy wanted."

"For me to not get laid tonight?"

"Get off it." Jen shoved Adam playfully. She'd already dialed back the number. "We did it twice already, Timmy's not blocking any co-- Hey, Timmy! Everything okay? It's pretty late."

From the other end of the line came Timmy's voice, a touch meek: "Yes, I'm so sorry, I overlooked the time. It's just that Russell's out with his mother and I wasn't sure who else to call, I just needed an ear, if you were sleeping or busy with, uhm...certain activities..." Everybody knew through the grapevine what Jen and Adam were up to these days.

"Screw certain activities, what's up?"

Adam plunked against the headboard with a groan.

"It's just...I just had a rather lengthy...uncomfortable conversation with my parents, and--"

Jen understood instantly. "Hey, Timmy, you up for going out?"

"Uhm...well, I..."

"Meet me at Dooley's."

----------

"So why are you here with me right now instead of Russell? You just went through something kind of major, he should be here for you."

"I sort of insisted he go out with his mother...it was just something I felt I had to do on my own. Adam wasn't annoyed at your leaving so late? In the middle of..."

"Oh, he was." Jen sipped her drink from their place at the bar, shrugging. "But all we've been doing lately is humping like jackrabbits, he can use the break."

"Ah." Timmy clicked his tongue. "Yes, well...with all the, uhm...jackrabbiting, the inevitable will surely happen sooner or later?"

"Yeah, but we're not talking about it. It's like the unspoken rule of the endless sex. We know why we're doing it, we're just not saying why we're doing it."

Timmy leaned his chin on a hand. He was thankful for Jennifer's friendship and attempts at distraction. He was trying very hard to ignore the churning in his stomach; the strong desire to disappear into himself. The chatter of bar patrons and Jen's upbeat nature were doing well to cover his thoughts.

"Well, at least you have a reasonable excuse for participating in so much......" Timmy allowed his thought to trail off uncomfortably, looking instead gratefully to the sudden glass of alcohol placed in front of him by the bartender.

"Sex," said Jen. "You like sex, Timmy. It's fine, you can talk about it with me. Even though I'm a girl. So your partner of choice is a little questionable, I won't judge...much." She nearly dropped the topic as she took a drink from her own glass, but upon removing her lips asked curiously, "What's it like, anyway?"

"What is what like?"

"Sex with Russell?" She instantly gagged at her own question. "Oh, god! Why would I ask that, why would I want to know that?! It's like when you see a really bad news headline, and you wanna read the article but you know it's gonna make you sick, and you're like 'don't do it, Jen, you know you're gonna barf!' but the urge is just so strong...or you know, like when you see an accident on the highway...?"

"My god...!"

Jen bit a lip, shrinking back shamefully.

"It's like with anyone else," Timmy said, effectively having ended Jen's tirade. "You all really must get over whatever..." He wove a hand about, clearly a tad frustrated. "Whatever this is. I mean, several months ago surely I would have spouted off in precisely the same manner, but shall we please move on?"

"Sorry." There was a discomfort between the two of them now, a long silence in which Jen felt a bit guilty, until Timmy spoke up again.

"Intense, passionate. Very giving. Often riotous, naturally, but he can also be amazingly gentle and affectionate. Viciously enjoys cuddling; ask and he'll deny it. Don't judge a book by its cover, Jennifer. But then, I believe he may have saved much of this for the right person."

They met eyes.

"Me, I was the right person."

Jen smiled. "Full of surprises, Patel." She shrugged in apology. "Sorry if I'm still a little weird about you and Russell. I get on Adam about that all the time, I should really be better by now."

"It's an adjustment."

"How are your parents adjusting?"

Timmy took a drink; Jen considered this her answer, but he followed up post-swallow: "It went better than I expected."

"You were pretty worried. They didn't disown you or anything?"

"No...no, of course not. I was panicking every time I said that, I suppose. I mean, I'd hate to hear my father behind closed doors, but my parents, they're wonderful people, you must understand, it's just..."

"I get it."

"I'm certain they're adjusting to the idea of Russell...just not to the idea of us mounting one another." He took a swig of his drink, and hissed out through his teeth; he turned to find Jen staring at him with large eyes.

"Just...I'm sorry, mental image, I..." She let out a shallow breath before taking a long drink. "No, I'm good. I'm good."

From behind them, across the bar, a screech of a voice broke through their conversation: "Shot through the heart and you're to blame...you give love a bad name..."

Jen and Timmy swerved to face the stage and the man who stood there, microphone in hand. They both laughed shortly and Jen gazed around, finding a flier on a wall.

"Oh, crap, it's karaoke night. All-night karaoke night. Thought this place was above that kind of crap."

"I sang here once," said Timmy carelessly, dazedly.

Jen's laugh was sharp. "You don't strike me as a karaoke guy."

"No no, not karaoke. It's a long story, never mind." For a short while he was lost in thought as he and Jen continued to watch the man on stage, busy in her laughter and mocking.

Trying to woo a woman...catastrophic failure. Russell told me she'd be impressed...he must have known I'd humiliate myself, he'd set me up for failure, he...o-oh.

"Jennifer?"

"Yeah?"

"Remind me to punish Russell."

Having no idea what Timmy was on about she responded with a small salute and an assured, "Will do."

But he came to my rescue...I forgot all about the object of my affections. Scarcely mattered, she'd decided we were gay lovers. Hm. We talked all night, drank a great deal. I accompanied him home as I generally did when he was that drunk, to ensure his safety. He propositioned me, jokingly of course...as he often did when he was under the influence, and we were alone in such scenarios. Mockingly. All...a big...joke...

"Timmy, you okay?"

Timmy whipped his attentions back towards Jennifer. "Wh-what?"

"Check out this next guy, it's gonna be hilarious!"

Timmy gazed towards the next man taking stage, listening to Jen's snicker fade gently away.

So many things make sense now. What on earth took him so long? Took...us so long?

Unable to answer the question, confused by the depth and layers of the inquiry, Timmy jolted himself back into present day. He looked a moment to the new man on stage before turning to Jen, voice strong and assured.

"I'm going to sing."

"What? No way!"

"Do you want to sing with me? Come on, it will be fun!"

"Nooooo."

"Jennifer, take a risk, live a little!"

"Me? You're telling me to live a little?! Mr. Don't-Drive-One-Mile-Over-The-Speed-Limit? You're on."

----------

"And I swear it's the truth...and I owe it all to yooouuuu..."

Riotous applause. It probably helped that the majority of the bar's patrons were already drunk, or halfway there. Jen and Timmy looked at each other with slightly confused shrugs, having just finished their terribly cliched, rather poorly executed rendition of a classic, and were prepared to leave the stage when one man stood, quite drunk, and proclaimed rather loudly: "Whoooo! Go Four-Eyes and Nice Boobs!"

"Oh," said Jen with a smile. "I guess that makes me Nice Boobs."

Another voice from the crowd: "KISS HER!"

"Oh...oh no," sputtered Timmy, "we're not..."

Jen rolled her eyes and took to dragging Timmy off the stage. "That's our cue to exit."

"Come on," the first man urged, "Encore! Four-Eyes and Nice Boobs, Four-Eyes and Nice Boobs!" With this, many more voices joined his cry...well, three. Three more voices joined his cry.

Timmy and Jen halted exiting the stage. "They're...they're chanting," spoke Timmy, stunned.

"No," said Jen. "They're drunk, we're leaving." Jen walked down the steps of the stage, leaving Timmy to follow her...but he didn't.

A woman spoke from the front of the stage. "Hey, Four-Eyes, you don't need her." She offered Timmy a sly wink before calling towards the back of the bar. "Bartender, a drink for Four-Eyes!"

Timmy smiled shortly. "Oh, uhm...well...well, all right, I suppose."

Jen turned back towards the stage, realizing what was happening, as the chanting began to change: "Four-Eyes, Four-Eyes, Four-Eyes!" Oh, damn. She'd lost him. She watched Timmy return to the stage, a strange new sense of confidence overtaking him.

"Would you like another song?" he asked into the microphone, and was met with a round of applause.

Jen groaned, sinking into a chair. They'd be here for awhile.

----------

"'Cause I've got friends...in low places..." Cheers. Applause. "Thank you, you're beautiful! You're all beautiful!"

Jen groaned, face in her hands. She was tired. She'd taken to drinking, slowly, and was a little lightheaded, but was keeping herself together for Timmy's sake.

An hour. He'd been singing for an hour. At first it was kind of fun, sure, watching Timmy have a good time and loosen up for once. But now it was getting weird...

So the first woman had ordered him a beer. Great, fine. But as he kept singing, and as random patrons began to join him on stage, said patrons began to hand him more drinks...and Timmy's inhibitions were slipping. He would grab said drinks recklessly, throwing caution to the wind at the insistence of the crowd, a cheer his reward with each successive chug.

And he was growing visibly more drunk with each new song. This wasn't like Timmy at all. Who was in charge of this place? Why was nobody kicking him off the stage? Jen couldn't let this go on much longer.

"Okay, okay, okay...so this next song goes out to...to the little lady up front...Nice Boobs, this one's for you."

"Timmy..."

"Four-Eyes!" Timmy corrected, lifting an arm to the air in victory.

It was then that a foreign object flew on stage; it took Jen a moment to recognize it for what it was. And then her eyes grew large, jaw dropping. A bra. A freakin' bra. Some woman had actually begun stripping in Timmy's honor; that was the last straw.

Jen marched herself back on stage, grasping Timmy's arm. Sure, he grumbled a bit. The audience grumbled a bit. But this had gone on long enough. She didn't stop until she had dragged him back to the bar, and plunked him down on a stool. His face proceeded to hit the counter, and he laughed a little before turning his head to face Jen.

"Spoil sport."

"You were making an idiot of yourself up there!"

"They loved me!" Timmy held up a hand, revealing an object gripped between two fingers. He'd snatched the bra up before leaving the stage.

Despite Jen's better judgement, she took to snickering. "Oh my god, what are you gonna do with it?"

Timmy's face scrunched in silent laughter. "Do...do you think Russell would like it?"

Jen slapped a hand over her mouth before managing almost breathlessly: "I don't think it's his size."

"Perhaps not...but the pink lace will surely bring out his eyes, don't you think?"

The bartender approached the duo now; he shook his head but leaned towards Timmy. "Hey, good work up there Four-Eyes. You're cut off, though, think you've had enough."

"Oh, quite all right." He slid the bra across the counter to the man in offering. "Your tip. You're a good man, you've earned that."

Timmy's laughter was infectious; and so Jen ordered one more beer. Let him sit it off awhile. She'd take him home soon enough.

----------

Russell had stayed late at his mother's hotel...mostly as a distraction from his worrying over Timmy, but in the end, past the discomfort of digging up old memories, they were genuinely appreciative of each others company. She seemed reluctant to let him go. And so they'd taken finally to chatting on and on about lighter topics, not much of anything. His new place was lovely, quaint and charming; oh, so was Timmy. By the by, she'd met a charming young fellow on her last trip to Costa Rica, he really knew how to treat a woman (awkward). She imagined Timmy would fancy Costa Rica, would they like to go there? She'd pay, of course.

She sure talked a lot about Timmy. For Russell's sake, she seemed quite inclined to keep him around.

Russell was also inclined as such, naturally, and he felt guilty coming home so late, but it seemed he needn't have; Timmy was nowhere to be found. Texting him amounted to a hill of beans, but he did his best to reserve panicking, a skill he was trying to improve upon (it wasn't really working).

Come one, two, three AM, he'd lost his patience, and was fit to start blowing up his husband's phone when he heard the knock upon the door.

"Three in the morning," he muttered. "This better be good."

He opened the door to find Jen, and leaning against her, a slightly disheveled Timmy.

"Brought you something," she said.

Timmy collapsed against Russell, arms wrapping around his neck, and Russell peered around him towards Jen.

"The heck is this?"

Jen laughed, slightly inebriated. "It's Timmy."

"I...!" Russell growled low. "No kidding. Explain."

"He doesn't hold his liquor very well, does he?"

"Lightweight. Why're you getting him drunk?"

"Not my fault! It just kind of happened. He called me after he talked to his parents, we went to Dooley's, it was karaoke night..."

"Ohh, no." Russell groaned. "He sang?"

"I can sing!" spoke Timmy finally, voice muffled a bit against Russell's chest. "I sing beautifully! I sing like an angel."

Jen sniggered. "Angel."

Russell shot her a dirty look before returning to Timmy, who was slipping down his chest; he pulled him back up with a mild grunt before reassuring him, "Yeah, uh...sure. Sure, ya do, Tim, just...not...not when you're drunk, huh?"

Timmy's voice was fully muffled now against Russell's chest as he carried on slipping back down. "They loved me." Russell turned Timmy's face to ensure he could breath, to which he giggled a bit. "All wanted more of the ol' Timmy Shimmy." He tilted his head, gazing up towards Russell. "You want the ol' Timmy Shimmy?"

"I'm sorry," said Jen. "Listen, he needed the company, he said you were out with your mom..."

"Yeah, I get it, whatever." He looked to Jen gruffly at first, and then, realizing the sincerity in her apology, he sighed, face softening. "Thanks, uh...thanks for taking care of him. I'm...glad he wasn't alone."

She smiled easily. "Sure." She was about to turn when he stopped her short...

"Hey, Jen?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't bring my husband home at three in the morning again, huh? Ya mind not doing that anymore, huh? I don't keep Adam out half the night, you don't keep Timmy out half the night, capiche?"

Jen clicked her tongue, face tensing. "Seriously? How about that time you guys got wasted and ended up at that tattoo parlor?"

Russell groaned. "Yeah, that was a long time ago..."

"That was like a month ago, and he was gonna get a tattoo. Of a unicorn. He said you'd gone on a whole spiel about unicorns being majestic and masculine. If he hadn't called and dragged my butt out of bed in the middle of the night..."

"Goodnight, Jen."

"Sooo sorry Timmy sang drunk in front of a few random bar stragglers. You nearly inked my husband's ass, y'son of a--"

"G'night!" Russell maneuvered swiftly to close the door, nearly dropping Timmy in the process. He caught him again, dragging him back up under an arm, and began walking him towards the bedroom. "Gotta help me here, Tim, you've got feet, use 'em."

"Yes, quite right," Timmy murmured. "Say, Russell?"

"Yeah?"

"You smell nice."

Russell stopped walking Timmy across the apartment for a moment, pausing to process the statement. "What?"

"You smell...wonderful..." With this he kissed at Russell's face, sloppily; Russell was quick to swerve his head away.

"Mm, okay, no dude, we're not doing this." And he continued leading Timmy down the hall, and into the bedroom. He walked as far as the bed and dared to let go of Timmy, gesturing towards it. "You need to lay down."

"Ohh, god, you're sexy. I want to sex you up."

"You're drunk Timmy."

"Perhaps...yes, a little. Sex now?" Timmy lunged forward.

"No, no, hey, whoa!" Russell veered, allowing him to collapse upon the bed. "Far be it for me to question drunken sex, but you've had a rough night here, I mean...are you okay, huh?"

"My mother said you're good," Timmy slurred, turning to his back upon the bed. An abrupt change in topics, from sex to his mother. "A good person."

Russell was caught off guard by the shift, and it took some time for him to really hear the words.

"I said--"

"Yeah, I...I got it."

Timmy's voice was growing groggy. "My father said very little of you. Very...very little. Would barely speak your name."

Well, ouch.

"I think...everything..." Timmy's chest rose high and sank heavily as he released a breath, "will be okay." He smiled wide, relaxed for once...yeah, maybe everything would be okay.

Russell adjusted Timmy on the bed, ensuring he was laying lengthwise, comfortably. He removed his glasses, laying them aside; he took off his shoes, and placed the blanket over him lightly before laying beside him, leaning over him with a gentle smile.

"Tim?"

"Hm?"

"Proud of you, baby."

"Mm." Timmy would be more grateful for the statement upon sobering up. In the meantime... "Sex now...?"

"No. You're drunk, Timmy, you're barely awake. We're not having sex. Y'know what, though?"

"Hm?"

Russell kissed Timmy softly on the lips, brushing a hand against his cheek, and watched as his eyes closed down, sleep quickly overtaking him.

"...I love you."

----------

Timmy awoke with a bit of a headache; the first thing he remembered was karaoke with Jen and making a right fool of himself. He groaned out a bit in recognition of the fact that he'd let the stress of yesterday's events get the better of him.

The second thing he remembered was propositioning Russell, a faint memory, and somehow he'd ended up asleep in bed, still dressed, his offer clearly having been declined...fancy that. Timmy gently patted Russell's side of the bed, finding it empty, but felt something in his place. He sat up, recovered his glasses from the nightstand, and laughed subtly in confusion at the offering.

Russell had left him a tray of breakfast...he was getting better with his cooking...and alongside it, several long-stemmed roses. Underneath the flowers, a hand-scrawled note, which Timmy carefully pulled out, rubbing the sleep from an eye as he took to reading.

Hey, Tim. Proud of you. Glad you hashed things out with your folks. Told you last night, but you were too wasted to get it. You wanted to get it on, though. Offer still on the table? See you after work. ;) - Russell xo

PS. I know the flowers are stupid, total chick thing I guess, do you like flowers? I don't know if you like flowers. So anyway here's some flowers. Love you.

Timmy smiled with a shake of his head and spoke softly: "I love you, too, Russell."

----------

Kevin's muscles all clenched a bit at the sight of Russell entering the office. Ah, damn it. He was here earlier than usual, before noon, even. It was okay, though; he had an ace in his pocket, now. He had the Timmy card. But as Russell sauntered up towards his desk, confidence in tow, a smug look strewn across his face, something became abundantly clear...

"Hey, Kevin..."

"Morning, Mr. Dunbar."

"You know, Kevin...trust...has to be earned."

Oh, crap. He knew about the Timmy card.

"I hear you've been texting a certain former employee of this company. A certain individual who used to have your job, who used to sit at this very desk, who used to--"

Kevin rushed to his feet. "Mr. Dunbar, sir, I can explain..."

Russell folded his arms. "I'm waiting."

"Sir, I only started talking to your husband because--"

"Nya-ah-ah!" Russell shushed Kevin, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "We don't...say that around here."

"Say...say what?"

"Timmy, just...just call him Timmy, he's not my..." Russell looked around cautiously, making sure they were alone before addressing Kevin again. "It's a long story, okay? Look, a lot of people around here know, but when certain clientele are around, like anybody who might talk to certain other clientele? They don't know...let's just say I'm married to a woman named Kimmy."

Kevin lowered his brow. "Uh...'kay?" This job wasn't worth it. It couldn't be. "Except...you're...not. I saw you with that guy, he's made it pretty clear that..."

"Pretend, Kevin." Russell whipped his hands about for emphasis. "We're preteeendiiiiing!"

"That's the part I'm not getting."

"It's your job to get me coffee and call girls, you don't need to understand the inner workings of my personal life, comprendo?"

"Call girls?!"

Russell flinched. "Not...not call girls, just the coffee. Forgot who I was talking to for a minute, that was a Timmy line, not a Kevin line, just sort of popped out."

"You had him get you call girls?!"

"Just do your job!!"

Kevin sat slowly with a shake of his head. "How'd you get that guy to marry you?"

"Yeah, I ask myself that every day." He'd spoken with such sincerity that Kevin took note of the shift, and for a moment the men looked to one another, perhaps connecting, perhaps a hint of a smile forming between them. And then Russell cleared his throat, returning to boss mode. "So listen, if you're gonna be talking to Timmy behind my back, gossiping like little schoolgirls about me or whatever it is the two of you are doing...keep it clean."

Kevin blinked down a bit of confusion. "That...that's it?"

"Yeah, that's it." Russell shrugged slightly, speaking the next part curtly, a bit of an add-on: "And, uh, thanks for sticking around, I guess."

"And...you're gonna go easier on me?"

Russell laughed with a shake of his head as he walked the trail towards his office. He turned, looking to Kevin with a tsk, tsk of his tongue. "Oh, Kevin. Poor, naive, stupid Kevin. You're still new around here, let me tell you how this works..."

"Timmy said to tell you something." Voice direct, hands folding neatly on his desk.

"Oh, did he now?"

"Uh-huh. He said to tell you that if you don't start treating me better, he's cutting you off." He rose a brow slightly. "Quote, 'If you know what I mean,' unquote."

Russell lowered his eyes and sucked in his lips, looking around a moment in mild shock at the statement. "Okay, whoa. Uh..." He laughed softly. "He didn't say that."

"You're willing to take that risk?"

Russell's voice went a bit softer. "He, uh...he wouldn't do that."

"He said to tell you, 'Yes, Russell, I absolutely would.'"

Russell snarled lightly. He spoke through clenched teeth. "You happen to be lucky that I was gonna ease up on you, anyway. Not because of any idle threats from Chief Chastity..." Nearly under his breath: "Like he can really keep himself from pitching that teepee."

"Sure thing, Mr. Dunbar." He waited for Russell to turn around, on the verge of entering his office before adding: "And he's not that kind of Indian."

Russell flipped back around, banging a hand against the frame of his office door: "You really just said that? Are you kidding me with that?!"

Kevin tried to contain a smirk, pleased with the growing level of frustration coming over his nightmare of a boss. Yes, this relationship with Timmy would work out...it would work out quite nicely.

"Couple of freaking comedians! Leave the guy at home, he follows me to work..." Russell stormed his office, screaming back behind his shoulder, "And get me my damn coffee!" And then a slam of his door.

Russell pulled his phone from his pocket, preparing to tell Timmy off in text. "Little comedian, cut me off, not that kind of Indian. Neh-neh-neh, think you're so funny, I--"

But he already had a new text notification.

From Timmy.

The flowers are lovely. Breakfast didn't kill me. And yes, the offer is still on the table. ;)

Russell softened a bit, scrunching his lips in consideration...and then, another text came in.

PS. I love you.

Russell sighed out, smiling shortly, forgetting his annoyance with the man out front and the irritating little undercover operation. For now, his heart was suddenly elsewhere.

His voice came out light as he held the phone to his chest. "I love you too, Timmy."

Chapter 24: Wedding Gifts

The hustle and bustle outside the airport created a steady white noise as Russell dragged the last of his mother's luggage towards the bench where she sat with Timmy, hoisting it beside her with a light grunt.

"You were only here for a few days, you packed for a month, geez."

"A woman needs to be prepared."

Timmy called away Bunny's attention as Russell continued fussing over the absurdity of his mother's excessive luggage.

"It's been so nice having you here, Ms....uhm...B-Bunny?" Timmy sighed in frustration with himself; he couldn't pin this down.

Bunny grasped at Timmy's hand with a light laugh. "Don't worry, dear, call me whatever you like, I'll always answer."

They exchanged pleasant smiles before Russell interrupted the scene, voice irritated. "When's your flight, Mom?"

"We arrived quite early, Rusty, do calm down, you're dreadfully riled."

"She's late."

"Who's late?"

Russell went back to ignoring his loved ones, pacing slowly back and forth in front of them, to which they returned the gesture in kind by ignoring him right back.

"Dinner last night was simply divine," said Bunny. "We must get together next time I'm in town and you can cook for me again."

"Oh, why thank you so much, it would be my pleasure, surely."

"Grahr, where is she?!" Russell roared, growing far too agitated for his own good, and Timmy stood now, cool and collected. He approached the man he so affectionately called his idiot, staring him down, and giving him...the look. Russell resisted at first; Timmy certainly was not the boss of him. Timmy held no authority over him, and he was going to go right on being frustrated.

A moment later Russell had hunkered down, walking his way towards the bench where he sat beside his mother with a confused huff. How'd he always get him to cave like that?

Bunny leaned in towards Russell and, patting him on the leg, spoke low: "You're whipped, darling."

Russell looked at his mother, aghast, and sputtered in an attempt to formulate a reply until Timmy sat on the opposite side of him, providing him no help whatsoever.

"Yes," he said, resting a hand upon Russell's shoulder. "He is whipped."

Russell stewed at the stereo laughter in his ears, clearly unamused at the bonding taking place at his expense. He was quite relieved to find a familiar figure jogging down the sidewalk a moment later towards them, waving in his direction, and he took to his feet, waving back.

"Emily!"

"Russell!"

They connected soon after in a deep hug, as if this reunion had taken just as long as their first meeting, full of smiles and cheerful giggles. Timmy grinned quite lovingly in their direction. Bunny looked upon the scene, quite baffled.

She nudged lightly at Timmy's shoulder. "Is anyone going to explain to me what's happening? The girl from the restaurant, yes? Who is she? Don't tell me the three of you have derived some sort of ménage à trois?"

"What?! Oh, dear heaven's, no..."

"Oh, thank god. I mean, I'm as open minded as the next woman, I've been all around the world, Timmy, you know I have, but that's certainly not the kind of news to spring upon me at the last second."

Timmy's eyes shifted nervously. "Uh-uhm...you mean to say Russell didn't...didn't tell you..." He whipped his head back towards Russell and Emily, taking to his feet and marching straight towards father and daughter. He gripped firm at Russell's arms.

"The heck, Tim, what's the sitch?"

"You didn't tell your mother about Emily?"

Russell shrugged this off nonchalantly. "Eh. Didn't come up."

"Didn't come...! I should think this a rather important detail to mention to your mother before..." Timmy turned back to find Emily fast approaching Bunny. "Ohh, dear."

But before the men could interject, Bunny had stood to greet the girl now smiling quite pleasantly at her. "Hello, I don't believe we've had the pleasure of being introduced, my name is--"

"Hi, Grandma!" Emily sprung forth upon the woman, wrapping her arms around her with no further pretense, and Bunny's eyes shot wide, mouth taught in the throes of a nightmare.

GRANDMA?!

When Emily pulled back, hands still gripping the arms of her rightfully baffled grandmother, she suppressed a laugh before turning to her father, who turned away sheepishly with a whistle of innocence.

"He, uh...he didn't tell you, did he?"

Bunny's eyes narrowed in the direction of her son...and as she marched towards him, Emily and Timmy were quick to swerve away in the opposite direction, out of the line of fire. Bunny gripped Russell firmly by an ear.

"Ow, ow, ow, MA!"

"Young man, what have you done?"

"What?!"

"You’ve gotten some young lady in trouble, hm?"

Russell looked around as he shushed his mother, laughing off the scene to cover his utter humiliation. He spoke in near whispers. "Mom, it was like twenty-five years ago, kid just showed up out of nowhere!"

"You didn't think to tell me? I'm too young to be a grandmother!"

"You're...!" Russell grumbled as he rubbed his temple. "Okay, listen..."

From the sidelines Emily questioned Timmy cautiously, "What's happening here, is this my fault?"

"Well, you might have been a bit more subtle in your approach, but no, it's uhm...well, she's on a mothering kick. They aren't quite accustomed to this new dynamic, it's...been a strange week."

Russell was grousing. Bunny was pouting.

"I wanted to tell you," said Russell finally. "Just...listen, this has been a heavy week. There's been a lot to tell, I guess I didn't exactly know how to...prioritize, okay?"

Bunny accepted this explanation, although a tad begrudgingly. "Well...she's certainly a pretty thing. Twenty-five years?"

"Yeah, I...I never knew, she just...poof, came lookin' for me, there she was." He laughed softly. "Y-yeah...yeah."

Bunny placed a soft hand to Russell's arm. "No more secrets."

"Sure, uh...okay." He looked finally into his mother's eyes. There seemed finally a connection, there. So often he'd looked into his mother's eyes and found them distant, preoccupied, but these last few days they'd grown closer and closer to pristine focus...they saw him. She saw him.

"Hey...hey, Mom?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Y'know...it's been tough. I act like...like I've got it all together." Her eyes were almost too sincere, for once. He looked away now, towards Timmy, as if seeking some sort of guidance in this moment. "I was so lost."

Bunny followed Russell's eyes towards Timmy, who exuded all the warmth that came so naturally to him, standing with the new girl, holding herself so sweet and unassuming.

Mother turned back to son, placing a hand upon his face. "Oh, Rusty. You may have been lost...but just look at all you've found."

----------

Two weeks later...

The box collapsed with a solid thud, sending a puff of dust into the air and causing Adam to take a step back as he covered his mouth to cough.

Timmy clapped his hands, sending a bit more dust into the air. "Sorry about that. This old place has certainly seen better days."

"You do a lot of this stuff?" Adam walked to the other side of the old building, grabbing at another ancient box. "Volunteer work?"

"Yes, of course. Enriching. Gives me something to do." He gave a sigh. "Especially finding myself still unemployed."

"When are you going back to work?"

"Soon. I've been conversing with my last employer, naturally my previous position has long since been filled but he's willing to find something for me. I shouldn't be so lucky."

"You should come back with us, miss you around there.”

Both men dropped the boxes they'd been carrying, and Timmy rested a hand upon the old cardboard thoughtfully. "I don't think Russell and I working together in such close proximity again is such a good idea. Assistant or not."

"Yeah, you're probably right...Jen and I tried to work together for awhile years ago, all we did was fight. Geez, you did it for years. That explains a lot, guess that's why quitting let you guys finally bang-shang-a-lang that one out, huh?"

Timmy glared at Adam for several moments, cocking his head to one side curiously. "You manage to fit so much absurdity into so few words."

"Hey, thanks, man! Where d'ya want this box?"

Timmy pointed a finger and Adam picked up the box in front of him with a grunt, Timmy shaking his head with a soft sigh. A second later he jumped, a new set of hands gripping his shoulders with a playful "boo!" and he turned with a laugh to find Jen smiling gleefully towards him.

"Okay, where do you want me?"

Timmy pointed towards a far wall and voiced a casual, "The wall needs stripped." He paused, waiting for something that clearly wasn't forthcoming; his face grew thoughtful and he shook his head with a soft laugh.

"What?" asked Jen.

"Uhm...was waiting for the punchline. You know, 'the wall's not all that needs stripped,' wink and a nudge. Forgot Russell isn't here."

"Yeah, why isn't Russell here?" Jen grumbled. "We're all busting our butts here, what's his excuse? I mean, I'm into this whole volunteering thing--"

"It's true," shot in Adam, making his way back to the other side of the room. "Jen loves this volunteer stuff. Old folks home, animals shelter..."

"Yeah, of course! But hey, I managed to drag Adam with me, where's your dumber half?" Adam was far enough away by now to have not heard the remark, but even if he had, perhaps he would have taken it with the affectionate candor with which it was intended.

Timmy stumbled a moment for an answer. "Well, it's...you see, he..." His shoulders dropped finally. "Okay, he feigned a cough and then went back to bed...naturally."

"Yeah."

"To his credit, he did a lovely job the last two weekends at the homeless shelter, if not appearing a trite uncomfortable. I must give him credit for his efforts, he joined me willingly, I never once suggested he come along. I believe it was the threat of manual labor today that led to..."

"Miraculous infection?"

"Instant cold, of course. So, how about that wall?" Timmy smiled wide with a turn. "I'll help you strip." His face froze as he spun back around with very wide eyes. "Oh, I didn't mean...of course, I..."

Jen sniggered as she grabbed Timmy's hand, leading him to the other side of the room. "C'mon, let's strip." She called out to Adam: "Honey, Timmy's going to help me strip now!"

"'Kay, babe! ...Wait, what?"

----------

Jeff walked through the door and instantly allowed his briefcase to plunk to the floor, jaw hanging open lightly at the sight before him...his apartment had been invaded. Apparently picking up those extra hours at work had been a poor choice, for in his extended absence, his home had been overrun by the geek squad.

A new desk had been squeezed in past the living room, tightly, but somehow they had made it work. Upon it, a new computer set-up with all the fixings. The sofa and dining room table were covered with all kinds of...nerd stuff in open cases, wirings and paperwork and what the hell was all of this stuff? The more important question was why was all this crap here, and who had brought it. No...the important question was, who was paying for all of this?

"Aaauudreeey?!"

She peeked out from the kitchen, all smiles and excitement. "Oh, hey, honey! Guys are in the kitchen, just thought they deserved a little lunch break."

"What guys are in our kitchen? You're feeding them? What the heck is going on around here, huh?!"

He made his way into the kitchen as Audrey made her way out, towards the new set-up in the living room, and Jeff nearly back-tracked when he saw the two men stuffing their faces in his kitchen.

"Ah, crap."

"Heeey, Sandwich Guy!" Barry rose his arms in excitement.

"Assistant Sandwich Guy," corrected Tug, patting Barry on the shoulder and placing his sandwich back upon his plate. "Man, if it was your wife making the sandwiches we would've hired you in a heartbeat, why'd you run out of there so fast before, man?" He paused in careful consideration. "Wait, something's fishy, here..."

Jeff opened the kitchen door a crack, ensuring Audrey was fully preoccupied as she fussed over her new gizmos and gadgets before turning back towards Nerd One and Nerd Two.

"You never saw me," he asserted.

Barry examined Jeff up and down. "I'm pretty sure you're the guy...strong jawline, good muscle tone..." He grabbed at Jeff’s arm, which was promptly yanked away.

"You never saw me," Jeff repeated, a bit more threateningly.

Tug stood tall. But not quite tall enough he quickly realized, Jeff glaring him down quite menacingly. Still... "We totally saw you, man, what were you doing in our office? Why didn't you tell us you were Audrey's husband, I mean--"

Jeff reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He reached inside, yanking out a crisp bill, and handed it to Tug. "You...never...saw me."

"Ten bucks? Seriously, you think you can..."

"Oh." Jeff took back the ten, replacing it with a fresh hundred dollar bill.

"Sure thing, man, never saw ya."

"Who is this handsome chap?" Barry proclaimed. "Never before has he chanced to enter our--"

"Dial it down, Bare." Tug handed Barry the money, which he took to eying against the kitchen light.

Jeff nearly turned away, but then a thought. "Oh...and uh, the little blond hobbit I was with?" Another bill was thrust into Tug's hand.

"Man, this is just the ten from before! Ya gave us a hundy for you!"

"I'm worth a hundy, that guy’s worth a ten.”

----------

Volunteer work was fulfilling, but only to the degree in which it always had been.

Timmy was still losing his mind with so little to do, but he knew he would start back to work soon; this presented a new sort of dilemma. He was afraid he'd begun to grow accustomed to...taking care of Russell.

Well, then, isn't that what he'd always done? Hot Pockets and juice boxes had simply changed to home cooked meals and wine. Unread office memos? Honey-do lists, equally unread. Where once he'd stood outside office doors while women provided afternoon “massages”, Russell was now calling home, asking “what are you wearing?” The damn fool…...but then, Timmy had grown rather adept at phone sex.

Phone sex would be rather frowned upon, should he return to a legitimate place of business.

All these thoughts flooded Timmy’s mind as he travelled the length of the hall leading to his apartment. He had pulled the keys from his pocket, set to enter when his attentions were pulled away.

"Well, you look like a Patel if I ever saw one," a chipper voice asserted.

"What?"

Timmy turned towards the source of the voice, a man's white gleam of a grin and a wave of a hand confronting him quite abruptly from several doors down the hall.

"Oh...oh, yes," Timmy said, returning a friendly smile to the stranger.

"No offense, it's just that someone slapped you with a heap of that luscious caramel, I call it like I see it. Pft, I can't tan to save my life, you know what I'm saying? Cursed with the eternal ivory."

"Uhm...I'm...I'm sorry?"

"Oh! Oh, there I go, running my mouth before we've even been introduced, I'm so rude." The man approached Timmy, extending a hand to shake which Timmy accepted. It was then that the man looked at him just a touch sideways. "Are you sure we haven't met? You look so familiar, now don't tell me, I never forget a face...see a lot of faces, keep 'em all right here." He tapped his head.

"No, I...I don't think so. You live in the building?"

"Well, I know so many people," he said, dismissing the faint recognition. "I'm Jackie, me and the hubby are new. Well, not new-new, just got back to town. Business takes me around, it's a long one, you'll get the gist. Pop on over sometime, you live alone? I make the best samosas."

"Oh, well, welcome to the building. No, actually, I live with my husband, he's--"

"Well, bring him over, sometime, the more the merrier!" Jackie turned to walk away before hitting his forehead. "Oh! Jackie, you dunderhead." He turned back around, presenting a stack of envelopes. "I got your mail by mistake! Timir Patel? Exotic."

"You can call me Timmy."

"Adorbs. See ya around, Timmy."

"Pleasure to meet you." He watched Jackie walk away, laughing gently as he entered the apartment, examining the mail in his hand. He scarcely had time to do so, however, as he was swiftly attacked the moment the door had closed.

"Hey, babe!!" Russell. In Timmy's face. Grinning stupidly.

"Oh! Oh, my. Well, I see you're feeling better. Have you met the new neighbor, he seems quite--"

"No time! You're gonna waaanna seeeee thiiiis!"

"Oh, Russell, please." Timmy sighed dismissively, returning to the mail in his hands. "I've seen it, it's really not that exciting anymore."

"Wh...what?"

"That wasn't a sexual proposition?"

"N...no!" Russell looked down towards his own crotch, pouting slightly. "And...ouch." But he returned quickly to giddy, clapping hands and bounding towards the table in the living room. "No, come here, hurry it up!"

He led Timmy to his big reveal, stretching his arms wide: "Ta-da!" A large box in the center of the table. Timmy looked upon the package curiously but with no great fascination until he leaned over, reading the label, and his fingers ran across the names printed there, eyes focusing very carefully on each letter...smile growing wide, and his head whipped back to look at Russell.

"Told ya!"

"A package from my mother?"

"Package from your mom, yeah."

"Addressed to both of us," Timmy noted softly, and placed a hand to Russell's shoulder when he simply nodded in reply.

Timmy grinned down at the box, laying the rest of the mail aside, and began to pat at the sides of the package. Russell reached upon the other side of the table, yoinking up a pair of scissors with a whistle. "Yo."

With the box open, both men peered inside as though they'd discovered a secret treasure chest; as if they'd been on a long, treacherous journey to arrive at this place.

The first thing they found was a letter, resting neatly atop bright reds and golds, and Timmy picked up the neatly folded pages and opened them with a careful breath.

Russell scoffed. "The heck is that, she scribble on the page or something?”

Timmy looked to Russell with a steady glare. "It's Hindi, Russell. My mother wrote me a letter in Hindi."

"O-oh. Oh, uh...uh, yeah." Russell rubbed the back of his neck, deflecting shamefully as he looked back in the box. "You...should, uh, teach me some of that stuff sometime."

Timmy cocked his head slightly, sure he ought to be offended, but he found the request to be most sincere as Russell looked to him with apologetic eyes. "Oh...well, yes. Yes, perhaps I shall."

"I'd like that."

And they met in a smile that warmed them both. It was these moments that reminded Timmy why he hadn't strangled him in his sleep yet...

"So, what's the letter say? Until ya teach me I still can't read your primordial native chicken scratch."

Yet. There was still time to strangle him. Sigh...at least he was making an effort.

Timmy examined the pages in his hands, pulling out the bottom layer. "English version."

"Then why bother with the Hindi?"

"My mother sends one of each, she always has...she doesn't want me to lose connection with my roots." He read slowly. "Dearest Timmy, congratulations..." His voice caught. "Congratulations on your marriage to Russell." At this he allowed his hand to lower, steadying himself.

"Need me to read it, Tim?"

"Give me a moment." He recovered with a shallow breath, looking the page over before continuing, shaking his head with a smile. "Oh, Mother..."

"What's it say?"

"She's sent us wedding gifts."

"What, for real?"

"Yes. She says..." Timmy banged a hand light against the table before lowering himself slowly upon the sofa; this was all a bit unbelievable. Last month, he could barely speak to his parents. And now...

"C'mon, Tim."

"She says she welcomes you to the family, Russell, and she's sent you a gift. My...my father will come around, she says, but for now to please take these gifts with all the love and acceptance with which they are intended and know that she is here for us and to please not count her out, as she won't be...won't be counting us out."

Timmy grew very quiet, staring at his mother's words with a sort of forlorn admiration.

Russell sat beside Timmy carefully. "Tim?"

Timmy sniffled softly, the letter crumpling lightly in his tightening grasp.

"Hey, uh...that's all you wanted, dude. Varsha's cool with...with our little...arrangement. Aren't you happy?"

Timmy managed a meager nod as Russell ran a hand slowly down the length of his back and patted gently, urging him back up.

“So...what else is in the box, huh?”

The men stood, looking back in the box, a new sort of warmth emanating from the objects within...wedding gifts. Timmy began to pull small items from the carefully arranged package. Random nick-nacks: housewarming gifts, decorative items of an ethnic variety, the likes of which Russell was reluctant to admit he was developing a distinct fondness for the more he was around the likes of them. (But then, they reminded him of Timmy, who he was, after all, decidedly fond of.) And along the side of the box, in bright red, a large book, which Timmy pulled out and opened with gentle fingers, perking like a child at what he found inside.

A photo album.

“Who’s the nerd?” quipped Russell.

“That's me,” said Timmy, a touch sternly, eyes veering only momentarily from the rows of neatly preserved photos.

“Yeah, I knew that.” No sarcasm. He really did. He pointed to a photo of Timmy as a child, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Aw, tiny Tim!”

“I must have been six years old.” Timmy grinned, lost in reminiscing.

“You've got a book, there...what, uh, Dr. Seuss?”

“I believe I was reading Chaucer…”

“You're weird.”

Timmy flipped a page, landing on a photo of himself on the field in full cricket gear. “Oh, my…”

“Man, you were really into that stuff.”

“Well, yes, I played a great deal…”

“You've got those things on the shelf.”

“You make fun, but I worked hard for those trophies. As hard as any of your standard ‘jocks’, just because I happen to have pursued higher education doesn't mean I don't--”

“Hey, I didn't say anything!”

Timmy looked at Russell a bit sideways. “Sorry, I know I'm a bit quick to defend myself. I suppose I've been the butt of the joke so many times…”

“It's uh...a good look,” assured Russell, tapping the photo reassuringly. “Real...sexy. Macho.”

Timmy scoffed. “You don't find cricket sexy.”

“Yeah, well, I find you sexy, so.”

Timmy smirked softly as he turned the next page...he found there simply a note reading: Make new memories.

Timmy blinked at his mother’s words, growing lovingly lost again, until Russell applied a swift kiss to the side of his face.

“Can do,” said Russell with a tap of the note, and the men exchanged brief smiles before returning to the box.

“Whoa.” Russell first eyed the bright red garment, gold and white threads interwoven throughout, and reached down, pulling it slowly up.

“Killer threads!”

“A sherwani. Mother writes that it's to go with the many that you already own.”

"The many that I...? Oh.”

"That's one of the things you lied about when you met them, yes."

Russell allowed the soft silken garment to slip through his fingers, back into the box...surely, he didn't deserve it. What could he have possibly done to earn such favor...that wasn't all a bold-faced lie?

Timmy reached back in, stroking the gift with soft fingertips, tracing the adornments thoughtfully.

"Why, Russell?"

Russell looked to Timmy, down turned eyes slowly meeting his gaze.

"Why did you lie? Why did you go to so much effort to make such an impression upon my parents? You made a great fool..." Timmy gripped the fabric, sighing out roughly. "No. We both made fools of ourselves that evening. But why?"

Russell wasn't sure he had the answers...or maybe not the ones that Timmy wanted or expected. Because I'm an asshole, he thought. If he'd taken a moment to think, to let his real thoughts trickle in: I was jealous you hadn't invited me...I wanted to make a good impression...so maybe you would hate me a little less...I was suppressing the fact that I was into you, ya idiot...

Instead he muttered a weak, "Uh, I dunno." Followed by: "You think your folks like me?"

Timmy smiled very softly at Russell's meek desire for approval, placing a hand comfortingly upon his face. "Yes, Russell, they like you."

Russell's smile was so utterly warm and absurdly genuine that Timmy could hardly contain himself. He found himself laughing softly, quite lovingly, and for a moment Russell dropped his smile, practically insulted.

"What's so funny...?"

"Nothing," said Timmy. He ran his hand toward the back of Russell's head, allowing their lips to meet gently before pulling back in a smile. "Nothing at all."

----------

"So you took the job?!" Jen chittered as Audrey led her towards her new 'office' and the women proceeded to ooh and aww over the neatly arranged desk and the high tech equipment held there.

Jeff pointed to Adam's face. "You've got a little, uh...white..."

"Oh! I must've missed a spot, we were hanging out with Timmy."

"Uh-huh..."

Adam licked a finger before rubbing the spot on his cheek. "Paint. We were volunteering, y'know, fixing up some old building?"

"Mean to tell me you dismounted Jen long enough to GO somewhere? You've been ridin' roughshod, you finally slowing down, or...?"

Adam brushed Jeff down, talking in hushed tones as he assured himself Jen wasn't listening from across the room.

"Listen, it's just that it hasn't happened yet and Jen's getting a little discouraged, so..."

"You mean to tell me that sometimes it takes awhile to make a baby? No way!"

"I know, right?" Jeff's glare was unflinching until Adam realized precisely what he was saying. "O-oh. Yeah, I guess it, uh...took you guys awhile."

"She's gonna start making you do all the weird stuff, buddy."

"What...weird stuff?"

"Oh, y'know. Doctor visits, supplements."

"Well, okay."

"Loose underwear, eating lots of weird crap."

"I'm adventurous."

"Sticking the boys in ice."

By the time the women had returned, Adam's face was locked stone cold, a hand resting precariously above his...boys.

"Adam?" Jen rose a brow in his direction. "You okay?"

“No ice, I draw the line at ice!!”

“What…?”

Adam turned to Audrey, attempting to shove away the thought of frozen man bits. “S-so, Audrey, this job, what...what are you doing again? These guys run some kind of tech start-up?”

“Used to be a start-up,” said Audrey. “They've really taken off since they roped me in the last time, really got their foot in the door.”

"Some kinda nerd website,” said Jeff. “I think Audrey's official title is, uh, what...Queen of the Nerds?"

“No, Jeff, I happen to be...Satisfaction...Control...something, something, haven't quite ironed that out yet, but it's a very important position. The point is, they seem eager to have me, they can utilize my skills, and I can work from home while still doing the mom thing.”

“Almost too good to be true,” said Adam.

“It is,” said Jeff. “These guys are a couple of nuts, but if Audrey’s happy…”

Don't say ‘She's less likely to snap my neck from a surge of renegade pregnancy hormones.’

“If Aud’s happy, then I'm happy.”

Audrey gleamed affectionately at Jeff; oh...my...god…he’s so romantic. Ohhkay, there were those hormones kicking in, full swing.

“Oh!” Audrey grasped her stomach, and all eyes travelled down to where her hands rested. She peered back towards the group with a giddy giggle. “Felt the baby.”

“Ohhhh,” Jen moved to feel Audrey’s stomach. “I can't wait until that's me…”

“Oh, honey. It will be, soon. Listen, take my advice…”

“Yeah?”

“Drink all the wine while you still can.”

“What?”

“All...the wine.” Then, leaning closer and speaking confidentially. “Plus, it’ll help you get through all the sex.”

It was now that the men turned and walked a distance away, Adam asking of Jeff, “Don't they know we can hear them?”

“They don't care,” said Jeff. “You want a beer?” And the men headed towards the kitchen.

“Oh...well, I love wine,” Jen continued. She grinned. “But the sex is pretty good, too.”

“Oh,” Audrey muttered. “Well, give it fifteen years or so.”

“Your relationship is different from mine and Adam’s…”

The women both looked to the ground awkwardly for some time until finally Jen perked up, all smiles. “Hey, how great is wine?”

“Wine’s the best! So hey, you go out and get sloppy drunk while you still have the chance, huh? Those days are gone for me, at least for awhile. I'll live vicariously through you.”

“You've got yourself a deal.”

----------

Timmy, having just slid the new photo album in place upon the book shelf, smiled in satisfaction at how well it seemed to fit, as if it was meant to be there all along, and turned in the direction of the kitchen.

“I'll start on dinner. Anything in mind?”

“Uh...something American.”

Timmy rolled his eyes as he disappeared through the door, and Russell’s attention travelled to the stack of misdelivered mail Timmy had brought home.

Bill. Credit card offer. “Hey, this one looks like something…”

Timmy reappeared from the kitchen. “You know, America’s a melting pot, would it really kill you to diversify your tastes a bit?”

“You keep trying to shove that Indian stuff down my throat, dude, think you've peeled a layer off my stomach! I need my stomach!” Russell shook the envelope in his hand. “Government mail.”

“What?”

“Mail...from the government.”

Timmy walked quickly towards Russell, snatching the mail from his hand and opening the letter with no hesitation. He looked the document over, poker faced, leaving Russell in the dark for some time.

“Uh, Tim?”

At last Timmy looked to Russell, slow, giddy laughter overtaking him as he hugged the mail to his chest.

Russell took an uneasy step back.

“Russell...Russell, do you know how our life has been a steady string of misfortune?”

Russell spat out a laugh. “Yeah, no shit, dude. We think it's getting better and then…” His shoulders dropped. “No, Tim, swear if you tell me there's something bad in that letter…”

“We've just received the most wonderful package from my mother and now...I'm free, Russell. I no longer have to spend all day in this apartment, whiling away my hours as a house husband!”

“Your work visa? They finally cleared you to go back to--?”

Timmy lunged forward quite suddenly, engaging Russell in a celebratory kiss.

Russell murmured against Timmy’s mouth. “Take that as a yes.”

Timmy pulled back with a squeal. “No more spending all my time around this place, all my time trapped in this box with nothing to do and no one to talk to but--”

“But me?” Russell turned his head down softly. “Yeah, guess you're gettin’ a little sick of me.”

Timmy tried desperately to contain his excitement, but found it being redirected now as he placed curt kisses upon Russell’s lips.

“Oh...ohhh, no.” A kiss. “No, darling, I didn't…” Another kiss. “I didn't mean it that way at all.” The following kiss fell deeper, but just as Russell began to enjoy himself, Timmy pulled back once more, speaking rapidly.

“You know, this is wonderful, it's turned out to be a wonderful day, we shouldn't stay in, we should go out, don't you think? Go out. Celebrate.”

“Uhh, yyyeah. Sure. After.”

“After?”

Russell’s eyes burned into Timmy as a familiar come hither smirk overtook his face.

“Ah. Yes. Quite right.”

The next kiss was far from curt.

----------

Jeff and Adam dared rejoin the women in the living room just in time for Jen’s declaration...

“We should go out and celebrate!”

“What?” asked Audrey.

“Your new job! Let's go get dinner. Come on, we never hang out anymore.”

“Well, yeah,” replied Audrey with a smile. “You're right, we don't all get out together enough. Sure, let's go.”

“And hey, it's on me and Adam tonight.”

Adam spoke up very softly. “It...it is?”

“Yes, Adam,” said Jen. “It is.” She pulled her phone from her pocket. “I should call Timmy, see what he and Russell are up to.”

“Uhm, sure,” said Audrey. A touch of hesitation, but, ehh...why not. “More the merrier.”

“Ohh, come on,” Jeff grumbled. “When did we start tacking on Russell and Timmy? Let's just go, if we're going. Screw those guys.”

----------

Russell pinned Timmy against the wall with a slam, hands travelling under shirts in search of warm skin. "Nnng, baby, you feel so good."

Timmy gripped at Russell's waist, head nuzzling into his shoulder wantonly with a weak groan. "Yes, but...perhaps not the hallway."

"What?"

"Shall we finish making our way to the bedroom..."

"Want it so bad!"

"Yes, yes, I know."

"Haven't had sex in forever!"

"It's...been three days, Russell."

"Damn it, it's been forever!!"

The men's mouths met in violent desperation as they led one another to the bedroom; somewhere, a phone was ringing.

----------

"Huh. He didn't answer," said Jen with a shrug. "Their loss, I guess."

 

Notes:

Hey, gang...always toiling away on this little fic, but updates are a little up in the air while I'm in between computers flaking out on me and having to improvise. Don't worry, they're still coming! Thanks to new readers, however you're showing up here. Tiny fandom corner! x

Chapter 25: Celebrating

Notes:

Sexy times with the boys. (Very very smut smut.)
If you aren't into that, the next chapter will be business as usual with the whole gang. Xx

NOTE: The next chapter (and shortly, the start of part 3 of this series) will be up as soon as I can retrieve what's trapped on my defunct computer...rest assured it shouldn't take *too* long...thanks for sticking with this thing. <3

Russell and Timmy had led one another towards the bedroom, one unit bent on one united goal: sex. Let's have sex now.

And so it was that once upon the bed, Russell was more than a touch aggravated to find Timmy had left him all alone; one moment he was kissing him, tongue on some grand mission to taste each inch of his mouth, and the next moment he had left him sprawled alone on the bed, ready to launch...

"Ahhh, come on, man!"

"I know, I'm sorry. I need to do this."

"What? Do what?" Russell sat up miserably on the edge of the bed; but something on Timmy's face had a way of bringing him back to his senses. He appeared so sweet, so gentle as he stood before him, a warm smile overtaking those soft lips. And so Russell turned off the engine, but kept the keys in the ignition....

"Okay, what's up?"

"Give me your ring."

Russell gripped ahold of his ring finger protectively. "Why, are you gonna go throw it down a grate or something?" He gasped, setting in with the dramatics. "This was all just a clever rouse! All the love notes the last few weeks, the crazy sex, we haven't made up at all!"

Timmy sighed out in exasperation. "Oh, for heaven's sake Russell, please, I'm leading up to something!"

Russell eyed Timmy suspiciously as he carefully slipped the ring down the length of his finger. It hadn't been off since the moment Timmy had placed it on that morning post-interview when Russell had so impulsively purchased the symbols of his affection, and he wiggled his finger awkwardly.

"I feel kinda naked," he grumbled. "Not the kinda naked I was hoping for right now."

"Don't worry, you'll get it back."

"Whaaat are you doing?"

Timmy stood before Russell, hesitating, trying to piece something together. He chuckled softly to himself with a shake of his head.

Russell chuckled back. "What? What's up, what is this?"

"I've been thinking about this for awhile now, and I think it's time to...I mean, I feel I should say this now, I mean with all that's happened, everything finally seems to be--"

"Tiiimyyyyy!"

"O-okay, all right, I..." He took a deep breath. "Russell. The way we were married was foolish. No...no, not foolish, in the end it was rather a noble gesture, it was lovely. Of course, at the time I could scarcely comprehend the magnitude of what you'd done, of what it meant. I was in a great deal of denial about us, about...what I needed. I needed you. I still need you, and now that I understand the depth of my need for you, I...I suppose what I'm trying to say is..."

"Spit it out, Tim."

"Forgive me, I've never done this before."

"Yeah, well, you suck at it."

Timmy pulled in his lips, containing the sudden desire to smack the love of his life upside the head. "You have a knack of making me question my life choices."

Russell stood slowly to meet Timmy. Slowly, sensually; he touched a hand to Timmy's cheek and allowed their lips to brush together, ever so softly. Timmy felt his body melt under Russell's touch.

Timmy sank to one knee. No turning back.

"Russell..."

"Yeah, Timmy?"

"Russell Dunbar, will you marry me?"

Russell laughed softly. He found himself sitting slowly back on the bed as he studied Timmy's face, so foolishly nervous. He couldn't be more into him if he tried, but he held back, giving him a cock-eyed smile. "Uh, Tim...we're already married."

"Yes, but we didn't want to be."

"I did..."

"Yes...yes, that's true, I mean--"

"You didn't."

"I do now, and I don't want to be ashamed of one another, and no more hiding. If we're going to do this, it must be real. This is my life, I-I need to live authentically, I need this to be...to be real. I'm not sure what I even mean by this, but I need...I need you." He sighed out, feeling a touch stupid. "I can't believe I'm saying this, after everything...please don't make me regret it."

Russell placed a hand to Timmy's cheek, trying to retain a sense of debonair. "You've got me, baby."

Timmy's smile was so bright, so warm and tempting that Russell found himself breaking. He smiled back with a subtle moan. "Mm, this is why. This is why I married you." He wiggled his naked hand, begging for his ring back.

"You didn't say yes."

Russell rolled his eyes, sighing out heavily. "Yes, already, geez!"

And so Timmy returned the ring dutifully back upon Russell's finger, sliding it slowly down, their hands grasping one another as the ring rested securely back in its place.

"Mmm. I wanna do so many things to you," Russell growled.

"Do tell," urged Timmy seductively.

"I want to...hold you all night long."

"Scandalous."

"We could...lay here together. Staring into each other's eyes."

"My, my, Mr. Dunbar, do be careful or one might accuse you of being a voracious sexual deviant, with talk like that."

Russell laughed lightly. "Get your ass up here."

Timmy slinked up Russell's legs, meeting him in a slow kiss; he felt a smile form over Russell's lips and broke away to look at him, finding his face devious, his breathing visibly hard. Timmy knew what was coming next; he could see it in his eyes.

Russell stood abruptly, pulling Timmy up with rough hands.

Timmy had dressed in layers today, a sweater over a long-sleeved button up, and Russell gripped the collar of Timmy's shirt in aggravation as he bit at his neck before growling in his ear: "Why do you have to wear so much, huh?!"

"Well, I'm sorry!" He shoved Russell away, who shook in frustration as he watched Timmy take a touch too long in folding his glasses neatly upon the nightstand before returning, pulling the sweater over his head and tossing it aside with a surprising degree of carelessness. "I don't dress for sex." He looked to his crumbled clothing on the floor...

"Pick it up later!" Russell started on the buttons of Timmy's shirt. "Damn it," he muttered in annoyance, "you should always dress for sex. Haven't I taught you anything? I'm your ment--"

"My mentor, I know." Timmy shoved Russell's hands down, finding it faster to undress himself, leaving Russell to rid himself of his own shirt. After a menagerie of buttons, Timmy tossed his shirt atop the growing pile of clothing defiantly, giving Russell a sly smile, as if he'd just been decidedly bad...we're making a terrible mess.

Russell shook his head, laughing softly as he pulled Timmy back to him, skin hitting skin as the men's mouths met, sighing deeply into one another.

Russell spoke through their kiss, as if going through a checklist, never allowing his mouth to part completely from Timmy's.

"Shoes." The men worked off their shoes awkwardly with their feet.

"Socks." They leaned down as one unit, pulling at their socks, nearly collapsing in the process and laughing into one another at their own inflexibility.

"Pants."

"And underpants," said Timmy.

"Went commando," said Russell. "Always dress for sex."

Well, this step was a bit easier. They focused once more on the intensity of their kiss, tongues connecting as they worked to finish undressing each other, hands sliding down the last remaining bits of fabric, legs and feet working to wriggle and kick and dispose of the nuisances that confined them.

Successfully undressed, the men returned to an eager clashing of mouths, and greater still a clashing of freshly exposed appendages of a certain variety, which seemed to be going quite well...until Russell’s brain chanced a sudden thought; he murmured past Timmy's lips again, but as his tongue was presently quite preoccupied tasting the inside of Timmy's mouth, the words now made very little sense.

"Mph?" came back Timmy's muffled reply.

Russell pulled his mouth from Timmy's long enough to speak clearly: "A wedding?"

Timmy no longer had much sense of clarity, mind clouded with the toxicity of lust seeping through his core and throughout each extremity. All the air left his lungs as he tried to focus in on Russell's face. "Wh-what?"

"You just asked me to marry you...again...you want a wedding?"

Timmy tried very hard to think. "Uhm...I..."

Russell trailed his hands down Timmy’s body, causing him to shiver as he grazed his ribs, his stomach, resting casually along the top of his hips.

“A real one.”

"I..."

Finally a hand shifted down to Timmy's cock as Russell continued speaking, practically unphased. "You deserve that. You want that?" He began to gently stroke.

"I...I, uhm...ohhh..." Timmy’s head sank against Russell, teeth nipping at his shoulder in an effort to contain his growing frustration.

"Ah, yeah, I always forget you can't multi-task with sex brain.”

“H-how can--”

“Years of practice, you spend so much time having sex, you learn to juggle.” Russell released the cock he held, much to his partner’s present relief, and lifted Timmy’s head up, seeking eye contact. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Really?” Timmy spoke in breathless agitation, sarcasm dripping through. “You think so, you think now might not be the time?” And he shoved at Russell, guiding him towards the bed.

“Whoa! Okay!” But Russell was laughing, ridiculously pleased with Timmy’s sudden burst of dominance. “A little pent up, huh? I'm going, geesh!” He collapsed, sitting on the edge of the bed with a bounce, and found Timmy kneeling in front of him not a second later, leaning into him with firm lips against the front of his throat; then sucking, causing him to jolt lightly.

"Oh, shit, what--"

"Shut up."

Russell's eyes grew wide before rolling slowly back, lids closing tight in pleasure. Oh, damn...this was serious business. It had been a harsh order, but one of loving design; the fool had a terribly over-active mouth, sometimes...a defense mechanism, protection from deeper intimacy. He needed to stop thinking...to feel.

"Yeah, sh-shutting up." Russell had no room for objections; Timmy's mouth was leaving him breathless. He was inching slowly down the nape of Russell's neck, his shoulder blades, towards his chest, following a trail led by eager fingertips. Applying firm kisses followed up with suction and flicks of soft tongue, then hard tongue; unpredictable and apt to trigger shakes and groans.

Timmy's eyes shifted up towards Russell's face on occasion; yes, it was working. This slow build-up, the tease. Perfect.

And so it was he found the love marks left emblazoned upon Russell's chest, memories of previous lovemaking; softened scars and bruises which he paid very close attention to with kisses and nips of teeth. Licking slowly up the length of a scratch mark left in recent days, Russell now writhed. This was torture.

He wanted to snatch at Timmy, to grab him with hard hands, throw him upon the bed and show him no mercy, but no...no...he was learning temperance. Oh, shit, he thought, shaking hands traversing towards the back of Timmy's head, which moved ever lower down his torso, towards the area he knew better than to hope he'd travel towards.

Off limits, Timmy never went there. He wasn't ready, he'd never ventured there, and Russell, in his growing seeds of humanity, was understanding of this limitation (at least to Timmy's face).

And then...something...happened.

A hand wrapped around Russell's cock; a warm tongue hit the tip. And then, slowly, the head of his cock was surrounded by Timmy's mouth, and Russell's eyes shot back open in shock, looking at once to the man on the floor for answers. Where Timmy had been oozing pristine sensuality a moment prior, he looked now pained holding Russell's cock between his lips, as if in hesitation...

Don't say anything, Russell ordered himself. Holy shit, he's never given you a blowjob, you thought you'd die without getting another blowjob, oh fuck...

Timmy pulled Russell's cock from his mouth, sighing out heavily, steadying himself. He lined up his mouth again...mm, no. He looked down, cursing himself for the fumble.

Russell, despite his better judgement, sniggered at Timmy's awkwardness...he flew his hands over his mouth, stifling further laughter. Crap. I'm gonna die without another blowjob.

Timmy broke from his internal dialogue to glare at Russell. "This would be a great deal easier if you wouldn't laugh."

"I'm sorry...serious, this is serious."

"You think I won't do it."

"Sure you will."

"I will."

Russell bit a lip. He wanted it. Awh, hell, he really wanted it. "Listen, Tim, you don't have to do this. I get it, it was a nice gesture and everything, but we can just--" Russell was cut off abruptly by the warmth of Timmy's mouth surrounding his cock. Not gradually, not an inch or two; Timmy had a point to prove, and so he closed his eyes and took in as much he could, diving full force into uncharted territory.

Russell gasped lightly. "Ohhhhkay, then, so this is happening..."

Of course, once he'd taken such a risk, Timmy found himself lost, and hauled back, gagging as he released Russell's cock from his mouth, grasping it a bit more taught as he looked at it sideways, curiously.

"Okay, you've never blown it before, you have seen it…”

Timmy allowed his eyes to meet Russell’s; this was no time for sarcasm. And so, maintaining eye contact, he returned to the task at hand, licking very slowly from the base of Russell’s cock...and up, up, up his shaft, all the way towards the head.

“Oh...kay, cool…” Russell muttered, fingers grasping ever so slightly at the sheets beneath him.

Tender suction at the head...sinking down softly...a bit lower...whoa, there's the tongue...ohhh, christ, how'd he figure out how to do this?

Russell’s fingers clenched, tightening their grip upon the sheets as his eyes closed slowly back down. “Ohhh, my god.”

He'd had plenty of mouths down there before; more often than not, drunken, thoughtless mouths that went about their business in a drunken, thoughtless manner, and he was always cool with that. Whatever got him off. But he knew that what was happening now was different. There was a careful intensity to Timmy's movements, precise and studied...as if he'd been taking notes, preparing for this moment, the final test.

Ugh, so Timmy. But also something decidedly true of Timmy? He had always gotten damn good grades, and he was passing this test.

Humbled perfection: a subtle hollowing of cheeks upon the drag upward, the weak vibration of a groan upon the slide back down. He'd break occasionally, but in these instances supply the length of Russell's shaft with ample pumps and kisses and long, generous licks before returning to the task at hand.

Russell might have removed a point for the occasional mishaps of teeth, but Timmy would recover with such flawless maneuvers of tongue and fingers crawling up his stomach, begging for forgiveness, that he could hardly hold such beginner's mistakes against him.

"Nng..." When at last Timmy had set into a steady rhythm, when at last Russell was sure this was it, the slow build-up to release...

Timmy came up for air. He continued to jerk at Russell's cock gently, almost instinctively, as he spoke. "Is this all right, am I doing okay?"

"Fine," Russell labored to answer, eyes pulled tight.

"Are you quite..." His hand continued stroking Russell's cock, slick with saliva. "Quite sure, because I feel as though perhaps I--"

"What happened to shutting up, Timmy...?"

"I've simply never done this before..."

"Nnng!!" Russell opened his eyes, placing his hands to either side of Timmy's face, gripping firm. "Fine, awesome, A+ on the blowjob, Timmy!!"

There knelt Timmy stunned, blinded by the light of Russell's praise and yet it seemed receiving no true comfort in the words. Russell took note of the confusion streaking his husband's face. And despite his raging boner, despite his desperate need for release, there was at once a stronger desire in Russell: the overwhelming wish to make the man before him happy; comfortable.

Rrgh, damn it. Half a blowjob was better than none.

"Hey." Russell jerked Timmy's face upward, forcing eye contact. "Listen, uh...I'm not as..." a slight flinch, "...young as I used to be, you don't wanna get me off this way, then we'd have to wait forever for me to, uh..." Blank staring. Eyes boring into him. "Don't you wanna...I mean..." Was this guy feigning stupidity, or what? Was he gonna have to spell it out for him? "I could just go ahead and fuck y--"

There we go.

Timmy collapsed upon Russell, but what followed was not so much a brazen attacking of bodies, despite the end goal being more than evident to both of them. No, what followed was sensual, passionate, the men leading one another lengthwise upon the bed, bodies slinking together in a perfect puzzle as Timmy secured himself atop Russell. The kiss that followed was deeply sincere as fingers wove together most delicately. Then came fingers curling just a bit tighter, nails driving into knuckles...followed by a thrusting of fists hard against the headboard, and sly smiles breaking into sex-laden laughter.

Soft, laugh filled kisses grew into a frenzied, panting misplaced barrage of mouths on faces and necks until Russell spun all at once, flipping Timmy over and falling against him. He ran fingers down his cheek, eyes piercing into his with laser vision. "Let me make you feel good."

Timmy felt Russell slide down the length of his body, and let loose a low rumble of a groan, allowing his legs to spread at the touch of gentle hands, hot lips trailing ever further downward. His fingers curled into the depths of Russell's hair, yanking a touch harder as his knees were hiked upward; he felt the soft touch of a tongue and the tease of fingers, and let loose a soft, "Ohhh..."

It would seem he was succumbing to submission under Russell's touch tonight; perhaps. But ahh, this was the dance, the give and take; Timmy bit a lip, head thrusting back in a pleasured sigh. He had him right where he wanted him.

And so for some time Timmy surrendered to Russell's careful choreography. Colors danced behind tightly drawn eyes, mind allowing thoughts to drift away...only feelings. The familiar brush of a lover's facial hair against a thigh. Masterfully manipulated tongue curls and pressured hums against his hole, joined in time by a slick finger. Gentle persuasion, a request for entry not easily denied.

Timmy’s head fell to the side as the faint ring of a phone perchance dared float past his ears until the sound stopped, replaced only by Russell’s soft, contented breath.

Russell sighed out as he felt his lover writhe ever so subtly beneath his touch. One hand wrapped around Timmy’s cock, tugging gently; with the other hand, fingers carried on sliding slowly in and out of an accepting hole, every so often bending in the carefully rehearsed fashion he knew would make him jump.

His eyes traveled the length of Timmy’s body. His taught, bronzed stomach, rising sharply, naturally in sudden lurches when the pleasure overtook him. His chest, that beautiful, smooth chest, holding lungs that breathed so deeply in anticipation. Arms outstretched at his sides, loose in surrender, yet growing subtly more tense with each passing moment, muscles clenching, leading to finely built fingertips which pierced the bed with growing intensity.

A beautiful man.

Every part of him delicate but toned, pieced to perfection.

And his face, panged with the sort of lust one reserves for an honest lover and tinged, Russell was sure, with pure devotion…head thrust firm upon the bed, mouth gaped lightly, finally daring to let forth the most subtle of moans that split through Russell and shook him to his core.

“Oh fuck, you're amazing.”

Timmy took a very deep breath before forcing himself to look upon Russell. “Wh-what have I done?”

“Everything…”

Russell removed his hands from Timmy, and for a moment looked upon him with a sort of love and devotion he had no means of knowing he was capable of expressing with mere eyes and bated breath.

Timmy knew...he'd seen this look before. The moment was fast passing, however, for Russell soon after had placed his tongue back upon Timmy's hole, flicking several times before dragging a long line up the length of his cock.

Timmy swallowed hard, eyes closing back down. "Oh, lord. Please..."

For Russell, this was as good as a 'fuck me'. He wasn't about to deny the request; he'd already stumbled through lubricant by the time the man below him had the clarity to realize his legs were being hoisted forcefully upward.

Timmy grunted painfully. "Russell." But it was an empty scolding, as he participated quite willingly in lifting his legs for the other man, the other man who had very little patience and who a moment later sheathed his cock within him with a solid thrust and forward grind of hips...to which Timmy repeated through a sharp intake of breath: "Russ--!" and was silenced this time with a firm set of lips to his.

There came no movements for a time, Russell content to embrace the feel of Timmy's depth around his cock. There was no hurry, and assured of this fact, Timmy sighing deeply into him, Russell released his mouth, placing soft kisses across his face, towards his ear. He growled low and hot and spoke a trembling whisper: "I fucking love you."

Timmy's response in kind was a low groan and arms wrapped first around Russell's neck, pulling their mouths back together most sincerely. When a slow steady rhythm began to rock him gently upon the bed, Timmy's arms moved downward, grasping the tightening muscles of Russell's back.

And then came a gasp for air past Russell's lips upon a deeper thrust, Russell pushing harder precisely where he meant to hit and causing Timmy to buck. Russell's lips broke away into a smile at the reaction and for a time he picked up speed; Timmy pulled him ever closer, posing no objections.

"Steady," came Timmy's cautionary whisper finally, and Russell struggled to slow his movements. He would come too quickly if he was in charge; they could both sense it. And so upon the men meeting eyes Timmy prompted: "Flip..."

Russell was quick to grip ahold of Timmy, spinning them both so as to place himself below his husband. Somehow, Russell Dunbar grew several times stronger during sex, a sort of carnal magic...they say you gain strength in times of desperation.

"Put it back in," Russell urged. Not the sexiest or most romantic line, but Timmy overlooked this fact. How in several months' time he had come to crave the sensation of being filled by a hard cock, one in particular, was still a touch remarkable...but he was beyond the point of denial. He wanted it.

He mounted quickly, sliding back down the length of Russell's cock and eliciting the most welcome of pleasured groans from the far back of a gasping throat.

"Ohhh, yeah...fuck..." Russell grasped at Timmy's hips with hard hands, fingers driving into flesh; stay here...as if he had any other plans, grinding firmly down. The tortured yelps from Russell were always enough to make him stay.

He set into an easy grind; again, and again, with careful movements, slow and steady and perfectly paced. Russell watched Timmy's eyes close down, his chest arch as he sought out breath, movements growing a touch faster.

"Tim..."

He opened his eyes to find Russell waving him forward, and Timmy leaned against him, finding Russell's lips as the men fell into the dance together; Russell's hands slid down Timmy's back, holding him a bit gentler now...no, he wasn't going anywhere.

And so Russell released him to sit back, allowing for deeper penetration. Both men expressed their satisfaction at this, a harmony of guttural groans as Timmy settled into a perfect tempo. As experienced as Russell was, Timmy was often the better conductor.

Russell relished Timmy's face. Through closed eyes, tightly ground teeth, suppressing all sound as he rode Russell's cock, Timmy made very clear his carnal desires beyond all attempts at retaining shreds of gentlemanly refinement.

Use me, Russell pleaded wordlessly as Timmy ground hard against the sweetest spot, nipping his tongue to contain the primal sounds of lust caught in his throat. Ohhh, yeah, fucking use me, baby... He drove him absolutely crazy.

When Timmy sensed Russell growing eager to rush things, he slowed, paused, settling back into a game of quiet torture...but Russell had come to appreciate the tease. He took these times to pay loving attention to Timmy's cock. Russell would not have been quick to admit he lived his life in admiration of another man's cock, but of all of Timmy's perfectly beautiful features, he was still in rather stunned disbelief to have his fingers wrapped around what he considered the Sistine Chapel of penises.

Then again, Russell was pretty damned biased in this regard, and still more than a little lost in lovelust. Timmy would have called him an utter fool for such ridiculous thoughts if he had not, at present, been on the brink of ejaculation.

"You're close," Russell spoke; more a gasp, licking his fingers, tasting precum.

"Y-yes..."

Russell watched Timmy grind a slow circle and bite against a lip. He returned to Timmy's cock, rolling a hand along slick skin from base to head, his other hand traveling to Timmy's taught stomach, which flexed against his touch.

Russell smirked in satisfaction. "Oh yeah, you're ready..."

Timmy nodded adamantly in confirmation and a moment later found himself slammed upon his back, Russell thrown atop him full force. Oh sweet heavens, thought Timmy, he's purging now, and indeed he was purging himself of all the sexual voracity he'd been holding back, now driving full force into the final throes of lust.

"Oh, my god," Timmy managed, wrists snatched tight and pinned against the headboard.

"Mmm...yeah, you want it, don't you? You're so hot. You wanna fuck, don't you, baby?"

Timmy labored to breathe, but meeting Russell's eyes replied: "Well, I believe that's what we're doing, yes."

Russell scoffed. "Well, you're hilarious." And he sank his tongue deep within Timmy's mouth. Upon retreat he bit Timmy's bottom lip with a growl; the growl mirrored back to him was well received, proving only to further his appetite as he pushed back inside his lover with a deeper growl, yet. Both wild cats now, they did all but hiss in one another's faces.

Timmy's arms slid as far as they could down the taughtly drawn muscles of Russell's back, claws out, digging into the flesh he found there when the rhythm of Russell's thrusts grew expectedly wild in intensity. "Oh, fff--"

The movements dared to slow.

"Don't stop!"

Russell knew better than to disobey an order, picking up speed, slamming hard and fast and without reservation.

Timmy's head threw back, hitting the headboard slightly. "Ah, f-fuck..."

"Say it," begged Russell through ragged breaths. "Ah, god, please..."

"Ohhh...fuck me," Timmy eked out past trembling lips. Then, a touch louder: "Fuck me, Russell!" Through gritted teeth he pushed through in an effort to deliver the words he knew Russell longed to hear: "It feels so good, Russell, I need it."

"Ah, fuck, yes..." Slam, slam, slam.

"I love your cock in my ass, it -- nngg..." Slam, slam, slam. A sharp intake of breath. "Oh, my god, just like that." A comment most earnest now as Timmy shook upon the bed. "I want to come, please Russell, please, I want--" He reached for his own cock, but felt Russell's movements slow as his hand quickly took control from Timmy, jerking with perfect precision and forcing Timmy to nearly thrash upon the bed as he felt the rush of an orgasm build throughout his body.

"Come on, baby, lemme have it..."

"Ohhh...ahhhh...!"

Each muscle in Timmy's body tightened, lifting him up, bucking against the man to blame; his cock pulsed beneath Russell's grasp, hot streams of white shooting up and along the length of Russell's stomach...pulsing, pulsing...until at last Timmy eased, sinking back against the bed with a long, broken breath.

"Oh-ho, damn," said Russell, running a hand along his torso, pulling it back wet with cum. "Heh...made a mess." He smiled devilishly down at Timmy who, unable to speak, sank further against the bed, releasing air in anticipation of the final blow.

A moment later his ankles were hoisted upon Russell's shoulders, and the frenzied grunts emanating from Russell as he thrust deep within him were animalistic and hungry; pure domination, bent on release. No more holding back.

Harder, faster, deeper. Insatiable. I...need...more...of...you...

He'd shown considerable restraint up to this point, but Russell wouldn't last much longer...they both knew it, his face tensing in a most familiar way. Timmy knew exactly how to push him over the edge.

"Come for me, Russell."

"Ohhh, fuck..."

"Please..." Slam. "Russell..." Slam. "Come for me..."

He had asked nicely.

Russell pulled out with a roar, allowing Timmy's legs to fall from his shoulders. He wasted no time in gripping his cock and with precise aim and several strokes he released over Timmy's stomach, eliciting a final moan from the man beneath him. As Timmy watched Russell spasm through his climax, he placed a hand to the sticky mess upon his stomach, drawing it up towards his chest...and then all was quiet. Still.

Timmy reached towards Russell, who leaned forward, breath heavy, seeking this gentle touch, and accepted a cum-laced hand upon his cheek before sitting back up with a heavy groan, gripping Timmy's arched legs to either side of him to keep himself steady. Timmy's legs framed Russell perfectly, whose hair tumbled in a blond mess as he rested his head against a knee.

Timmy watched the heavy breaths fall in and out of Russell's chest, sweat glistening against the scarce hair that clung there; the shine of his face, both from perspiration and from admiration as he looked down on him, lips forming a soft smile.

Timmy remembered how to breathe, but barely; who was this man? This man, looking down on him with such angelic smile and sparkling eyes...always so emotional; always over him. By god, he was lovely. He was wonderful. What a perfectly foolish thought, that Russell might be lovely, a lovely human being. Don't ponder on it, Timmy assured himself. He simply is.

Strangely wonderful. Perfectly imperfect.

"Hey," said Russell finally.

Timmy smiled back ever so tenderly. "Hello."

It seemed they had little more to say in this moment, these simple words conveying a world's more conversation than any outsider would ever know.

And as they unfurled their bodies from one another, a mess of sweat and sex, they found their rightful places. Russell nested in Timmy's arm, head against his chest; Timmy's hand resting on the small of Russell's back, stroking with soft fingertips.

What's it like? Sex with Russell?

Russell nuzzled himself securely against Timmy's chest; if he could have purred, Timmy wouldn't have questioned it, and he laughed lightly, kissing the mess of blond hair nestled against him.

Intense, passionate, very giving. Often riotous. Viciously enjoys cuddling; ask and he'll deny it.

Russell linked a leg with Timmy's and threw an arm flippantly across his stomach.

But then, I believe he may have been saving much of this for the right person.

"Comfortable, are we?"

"Mm-hmmm," Russell sighed out with a contented smile.

...Me. I was the right person.

"'Night, honey."

Timmy questioned this. He considered getting up to clean himself...to dress for bed...why, they hadn't even had dinner, after all...and then Russell squeezed him a little tighter; held him a little closer.

And all was right with the world.

"...Goodnight, darling."

Chapter 26: The Pieces

Notes:

Hey, gang...I'M HERE! I know I've been AWOL, but I promise I'm NOT abandoning this fic.

This is a shorter offering, but one more chapter will be posted soon, along with the beginning of part three of this series...big things happening, we aren't done yet. So stick around. Xx

Jen and Adam sat on one side of their regular booth at the diner; Jeff and Audrey sat on the opposite side, Shea beside them in her stroller. They all appeared unsalvageably bored, staring at their regular diner food, sipping at their regular diner drinks.

Perhaps the diner hadn't been the greatest choice for a celebratory dinner out, but the couples were creatures of habit, not to mention a bit too strapped on money and time these days to bother with anything fancier. And so they were stuck now, their conversation having uncomfortably lulled.

"Uhm," said Jen finally, smiling in Audrey's direction, "congratulations on the new job!"

"Thank you!" said Audrey with a smile back. She bit a lip, fork delving into a bowl of sad looking fruit salad. "Said...said that a few times already, but thanks again."

"Yeah...yeah." Jen tapped fingers along the edge of the table, turning to Adam for help. He broke away from his drink at her persistent glare.

"Oh. Oh, so uhm...hey, Jeff?"

"Yeah?" Jeff asked before taking a bite of regular, boring diner burger.

"Y'know, we barely get to hang out anymore. This is fun, we should do this more often."

Jen nudged Adam hard in the side. No! Wrong thing to say! She sighed out gruffly in surrender and took to her feet, excusing herself from the table, pulling out her phone...maybe she could still save this evening.

----------

Russell heard the ring of a phone from somewhere within the still of the bedroom and grumbled where he lay against Timmy in bed, skin on skin. Comfortable. Too comfortable for interruptions.

"Shut uuup!"

Timmy woke slightly, mumbling incoherently.

"Not you." Russell attempted to pull himself further into Timmy; impossible, but he always tried. "Comfy," he murmured, lips pressed against Timmy's shoulder.

Timmy smiled softly, and Russell placed his head against Timmy's chest, allowing the soft ba-rumph, ba-rumph of his heart to lull him back to sleep.

----------

Jen returned to the table a minute later, grumbling.

"What was that?" asked Audrey.

"Nothing. Never mind." She flashed a broad though clearly distracted smile.

Adam leaned towards Jen, and with a less than subtle whisper asked: "You try them again? They didn't answer?"

Jen's face tensed through her smile. "Uhh...so, about that job?" Phone still in hand, she began to write a text message while attempting to devote equal attention to Audrey.

"Rude," said Jeff, and he downed the glass of painfully non-alcoholic beverage he held.

A desperate text message: TIMMY SOS, we're all at diner, don't know what happened, AWKWARD.

Audrey began to describe the finer details of her job. There weren't many of them, as she really had no idea what her job entailed, so this lasted all of two minutes.

Jen wasn't sure what was happening, but her brain was rapid-firing. She usually loved hanging out with Jeff and Audrey. This was her normal. Why did she feel so trapped?

What are you guys doing, make it six? Seven with baby. Or ditch old guys. Well Russell can stay.

What would they have done before on nights like this? Hadn't they always found mindless chit-chat to bond over before? Jen found all this tension was making her grow tired. Maybe she would just go home and go to bed...or maybe she would just take a nice bath, curl up with a good book, have a cup of tea and...

TIMMY SOS turning into old guy! Get drinks or something? This night blows.

----------

Timmy awoke in the middle of the night, blinking heavily and feeling drunk with confusion; what had happened last night? He allowed his head to fall to the side. Ah, yes, of course. Russell had happened. Russell...flat on his stomach, naked, grasping a pillow, jaw hanging slightly agape as a snore escaped his throat. Not the most pleasant of sights perhaps, and Timmy sighed in resignation to his fate...then smiled, satisfied, knowing he was truly happy. It had been one of those nights.

Well, perhaps he’d been in need of it, he assured himself. Things were finally falling into place. He was waking up feeling at ease for once in the longest time...he wasn't going to second guess it.

He made his way carefully from bed and was grateful some time later to find Russell had slept through him showering and dressing in pajamas. He’d made his way to the living room, all the lights still on, and had taken to pacing slowly in contemplation despite the kitchen calling his name, stomach growling from a lack of dinner the previous evening.

He’d stopped walking and was staring quite intently out the large window that covered the wall of the living room when Russell made his way from the bedroom, standing beside him, speaking without so much as an introduction.

“Middle of the night, what are you doing up?” He held a candy bar and took a large bite now, speaking groggily as he chewed. He took to looking out the window with Timmy. “Wait, it’s raining?”

Timmy turned his head now to look at him, finding him bare-chested, having at least had the courtesy of slipping on a pair of jeans, whatever he’d found on the floor...nothing under the jeans, he wagered.

“Why yes, it’s raining. What was your first clue, was it--”

“Nyaaaa,” Russell mocked, curtailing the present line of sarcastic banter. He offered Timmy a bite of his candy bar and was turned down, so finished the last bite himself, handing Timmy the wrapper.

Timmy stared at the scrap with a sigh, walking away to discard the trash as Russell continued speaking, staring dreamily out the window.

“I like the rain, it’s nice. Nice night.”

Timmy’s mind eased as he rejoined Russell, allowing the rhythm of the rain against the window to guide him towards a gentle state of relaxation. “Yes, it's quite lovely. You know, more and more I find myself quite taken with nights like this. I suppose it's that--”

“It's ‘cause we boned in the rain.”

Timmy shot Russell a look that had become quite common place these days, a look of stern disappointment; but Russell refused to cower this time.

“Come on, man, I was kidding, give me a little credit.”

Timmy huffed, arms crossing. “Everything’s always a joke with you.”

“Tim, c'mon, seriously, don't start…”

Timmy pulled forth a hand, lifting it as if prepared to slap. “I swear, sometimes I ought to just--”

“That was a heavy night, man.”

Russell's few words carried in them a world's more weight than even he knew, and with this Timmy's hand lowered gently, seeking whatever it was Russell held behind the words, behind eyes that grew intense as he watched rain fall against glass. Timmy mellowed, drawn fully to Russell, whose voice came out gentle, thoughtful in the space between them.

"Y'know, before the fight...I thought we were so cool before all of that, y'know? Like, I...I roped you into staying, thought I was getting the hang of this." Russell's eyes glanced down, away from the window as he laughed gently, trying to break the tension in his voice. "Mm, nah, screwed...screwed it all up. Still don't know what I'm doing. Almost lost everything."

After some silence, Russell taking great care not to look back upon his husband, Timmy spoke a soft offering. "You're not going to lose me, Russell."

It was now that Russell's eyes flicked back towards Timmy, finding his gaze a bit too intense, and he laughed again to hide his discomfort. "Guess I just...I didn't realize there was so much to lose."

Timmy's eyes traveled back towards the oncoming rain. "Neither did I...we're terribly stubborn." His hand reached out and he smiled easily to find Russell's fingers linked with his a moment later. As both men stared out the window, their fingers latching just a bit tighter, Timmy gasped lightly, quite suddenly, as if in revelation. As if he'd just awoken from some long sleep. "My god, it's all so different now."

Russell's laugh now was practically dismissive. "How? How's it different?" But his fingers gripped a bit tighter still, knowing full well the answer.

Timmy allowed Russell this bit of denial. Certainly, they'd always been this comfortable with one another...certainly they'd always been this happy.

Russell gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I mean, a few months ago, I guess things were a little different. But, I'm, uh...I'm getting used to this."

"I suppose it feels a might longer, doesn't it?"

Russell gripped Timmy's hand ever tighter now, possessively, protectively. "Yeah, well I guess...you're the only thing that makes sense, so. That's...that's not new, that's not different."

Timmy looked first to Russell's face, eyes still sheepishly averted; then traveled towards his bare chest, watching the air rise in and out, as if he was taking great effort in breathing.

Quite naturally, Timmy took a step towards Russell, connecting their bodies ever so softly in a hug...just a hug. Hands still linked, free hand resting easily against his back.

Russell scoffed out a laugh, taken aback at the unexpected embrace. "What's that for?"

Timmy ran his hand slowly down the length of Russell's back as he pulled him just a bit closer, feeling the rhythm of his breath; intrinsically his own breathing began to sync up with the man he held, a fact to which he was fully unaware.

He turned his face down, nuzzling Russell's neck gently with a soft laugh; a realization, a shake of his head, before breathing out a sigh. He'd arrived at a conclusion.

"I was lost."

"Lost?"

"I thought for the longest time that I needed to...to get away and I was running in place, I...I was running endlessly, senselessly, like a hamster in a wheel to try and escape when all along my destination was right in front of me..."

Timmy realized quickly that he'd made the mistake of attempting to hoist an analogy upon Russell; it was too quiet, his brain was clearly working double-time in an attempt to process what on earth he'd just been told. Timmy smirked, laughing softly again as he pulled back to look into eyes full of confusion...yes, well, at any rate, he was his idiot.

He simplified: "I was a fool to think I could ever get away from you."

----------

Adam had been looking around the empty bedroom for awhile, restlessly attempting to watch television in the dark of the room, mind fully elsewhere. He'd woken up to find Jen missing...not the first night. He knew exactly where he'd find her, standing in the kitchen with a late night beer or a glass of wine if it struck her fancy, contemplating life...trying to figure it all out.

Things were just a little bit confusing these days. Sometimes Adam wished he could be as confused as Jen. Weird...usually he was a little mixed up about things, things that other people seemed to understand, like some joke they were keeping from him all the time. Jen was the one with her head on straight. But he'd always been pretty sure of himself when it came to things like this, the big things. Moving in together. Marrying her. Starting a family. Jumping in with both feet, not really looking. It was usually up to other people to assure him that yes, there was plenty to be nervous about.

Jen seemed to be doing the worrying for both of them these days, but to Adam's credit, his eternal optimism seemed to pay off. These things always had a way of working out.

Whatever this old movie playing on the tube was, he couldn't follow the plot, and so he turned it off, making his way out of the bedroom. And there she was, in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. Hair falling softly forward, framing a face deep in thought as she tapped a pen against an open journal.

No alcohol tonight; she sipped a cup of tea.

"Couldn't sleep?"

She glanced up, dropping her pen and tugging a little at her robe...the least sexy robe in her closet, a plush thing in baby blue. Comfortable. "Oh, hey." She offered a warm smile. "Sorry, no, I...yeah, couldn't sleep. Just, my brain started racing."

"Seems to be doing a lot of that lately."

"Yeah, it is..." She looked back to her journal scribblings, chewing a lip thoughtfully.

"Coming back to bed soon?"

"Yeah. Yeah, soon."

Adam turned to walk away. He stopped, arm against the entry to the hall...no, he wouldn't leave her. He turned back, making his way into the kitchen.

She closed her journal with a smile and watched as Adam located a bottle of something, holding it up with a casual swagger. "Whatcha drinkin'?"

"Oh. Well, that's the cheap crap. On the plus side, it's delicious cheap crap." She tapped the side of her tea cup. "I'm good."

"Yeah, well, Russell talked me into this stuff once, said it gets the ladies drunk faster."

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Rhodes?" But her laugh was playful and her smile delightful, and so he smiled back.

"Okay, so no on the wine-like beverage." Adam put the bottle back and found his way towards Jen, his hands sinking into her shoulders, massaging against tight muscles.

"Mmm. Where do you think those jerks were tonight, anyway? We tried calling them, texting them...like they've got anything better on their social calendar?"

"Yeah, well, Russell still uses the cheap crap, just not on women."

"Oh." Jen groaned out in thought. "Ohhh."

Adam leaned forward a bit, voice growing sultry. "Sure you don't want a glass?"

Jen scoffed with a snigger. "No, thanks." And so Adam shrugged in surrender, carrying on with his massage against Jen's back.

"Can't blame a guy for trying."

"They aren't even that fun," Jen continued.

"Russell and Timmy?"

"I mean, what was I thinking? Timmy's great but he's sort of a buzzkill when he's not singing karaoke all night and having random women flash him."

The massage halted abruptly. "What?"

"Ugh, and Russell is..."

"Yeah, he's Russell." Adam's fingers drifted upward, against her neck. She sighed, relaxing. "You were really antsy to get away from Jeff and Audrey tonight, what's going on? What, do we owe them money or something?"

"No, Adam, we don't owe them money."

"Do they owe us money?"

"No! No, it's just...I panicked." She focused intently on her tea, gripping the sides of her mug, the warmth comforting against her palm. "I mean, a lot's changed. Not just now, but...I used to be a different person." She walked slowly from the kitchen to the living room, tea cupped protectively between both hands. "You know I used to party a lot in college, I was a little crazy."

"Yeah, well, things change." Adam followed Jen, matching her leisurely pace. "But you're not a different person honey, you've just...matured."

"Do you have to say it like that?" Jen sank to the sofa. "Matured...makes me sound like an old lady." In her best elderly voice she leaned over her tea and grumbled, "Ohh, sonny, this weather does a real number on my arthritis."

"C'mon, you know what I mean..."

"And these bunions are killing meee," she said, lifting up a bare foot with a wiggle of her toes.

"Come on, Jen, you've matured like...like wine. And I'm talking a really fine wine, not a wine-like beverage."

Adam settled down on the sofa next to Jen, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He motioned to her cup in request and she handed it to him; he took a sip. "Mmm...not bad."

"Chamomile. To help me relax."

"Is it working?"

Jen let loose a snort of a laugh in reply as Adam relinquished the cup to the table, focusing his attentions fully on wrapping both arms around Jen, giving her a loving shake.

"Nng, come on. It's not so bad, huh? Got this far, didn't we? So we're at a crossroads. What do you do at a crossroads?"

"What?"

Adam looked ahead of him now, motioning with as much enthusiasm as sleep deprivation allowed. "Two paths ahead of you. One path looks easy enough, bright light up ahead. The other one is all twisty and rocky, and dark. Which one do you take?"

Jen knew better than to answer the question. "You're probably gonna tell me."

"The second one!"

"You're probably gonna tell me why."

"Well, sure. Now, the first path looks safe enough, and maybe it is. But it looks safe because that's just what it is, safe...predictable, boring, leads you right back around to where you started." He drew a line with his hand, slowly around Jen's head. "...Full circle. But the other path...the other path is interesting, see? It's challenging, it tests your limits. And who know what's at the end, huh? Gotta take the dark path sometimes, or you never get anywhere."

Adam booped a finger gently upon Jen's nose with a sweet smile. "You never...get...anywhere. And we're going places, honey." With this, he took to his feet. "Coming to bed?"

Jen, rendered rather stunned by Adam's surprisingly profound speech, was slow to respond. Finally her voice emerged softly. "Uhm, yes...yeah, I'm really tired, I'll be there in a minute."

As Adam walked towards the bedroom, Jen started for the kitchen; she called after him. "Hey, Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"Where'd you get all of that, anyway? Crossroads, two paths...?"

Adam paused, clearing his throat nervously. "Well, I...I mean, there might have been some mountain lions on the darker paths. I may have had to run a little...might have tripped a couple times." Teeth clenched, he stood his ground. "But damn it I came face to face with real adversity, what did those other scouts do? Pick up pinecones on the easy path?!" He gathered himself, flashing a wide grin. "G'night."

Jen watched Adam disappear into the bedroom...no surprise. None at all. She smiled with a shake of her head as she placed her teacup in the sink, and turned to exit the kitchen...then turned back. With a sigh, she reached for a bottle of delicious wine-like beverage.

She took a single swig before returning to bed.

----------

Jeff rolled to his side, hand resting naturally upon Audrey's belly. This was a habit he'd fallen into these days, the baby within her ever growing...he tried to feel around each night as she slept beside him in a vain attempt to find the little sucker. Curiously, thoughtfully, finding nothing more than stomach. One of these days he wagered the kid would have to pop up.

"Where are you?" he asked very softly. "I know you're in there..." He looked to Audrey's face, ensuring she was still asleep before leaning over her, speaking in hushed tones, never noticing the gentle smile creeping over his wife's face as he continued his conversation with the miniature human who lurked somewhere beneath the wide breadth of his fingers.

"Well, wherever you are...when you come out, I think you'll be pretty happy. I mean, uh...you'll have to share a room with your sister. We weren't exactly expectin' ya...not that we aren't happy, we are. We're thrilled! Now, your big sister...not sure how she's gonna react, she's just getting used to this whole outside-the-womb thing, and now she's gotta share everything with an even smaller spawn?"

Behind closed lids, Audrey rolled her eyes.

"But, uh...no, seriously. When you get a little bigger and make your way outta the slammer you're gonna find out you have one hell of a mom. She's got a good head on her shoulders, and she only ever wants to do good, I mean...she's a good person, your mom. And she really just loves the heck out of all of us."

Audrey almost cracked; she almost spoke up now, wanting to embrace her husband in his random late night display of affection.

"Sure, she goes a little nuts once in awhile. I mean, straight up wacko." And the feeling waned ever so slightly. "But hey, show me somebody who doesn't. Hormones drive her a little crazy, she bakes a few too many brownies, but--"

Suddenly, a noise...baby monitor. Shea was awake.

Audrey stirred gently, as if the sound had suddenly awoken her.

"Shh..." Jeff patted her lightly against an arm. "I've got this one."

"But--"

"You need your rest, you're resting for two."

Audrey smiled to herself as she looked upon Jeff, who made no great event of leaving the room and tending to their infant daughter. She listened to him fawn over Shea in the next room, speaking to her softly, lovingly, and fell back to sleep to the sounds of a poorly sung lullaby.

She woke back up only briefly to find Jeff laying back beside her with a soft grunt.

"She asleep?"

"Yeah...don't know how that always works, you always told me my singing could wake the dead."

"Mm...well, she likes it. Maybe I'm starting to change my mind a little, too."

"Yeah?" Jeff opened an arm in invitation, and Audrey sank her way against Jeff's chest. It wasn't long after that she heard his mouth open and a single note screech out in preparation, risking song.

"On second thought..."

"Yeah, okay." He held her closer, and that was enough.

----------

From three different apartments within the same large city, three different couples connected lips. Late night kisses. Honest displays of emotion, simple and pure.

For one couple, a long-standing tradition and a promise to share the love held within this kiss with a new generation, for there was so much love to share.

For another, a sign that they would carry on wherever this road was meant to take them, and they would carry on together, hand in hand, bump by bump.

For the last couple, a piece of a puzzle. For every piece they'd tried so desperately to shove into spaces that might not have fit, the pieces always fit in the end.

Russell chanced another kiss; Timmy obliged. Deliriously happy, Russell smiled quite warmly, voice full of love beyond the standard sleaze. "More where that came from."

"There always will be," assured Timmy.

Yes. The pieces always fit.

Chapter 27: One For the Road

Notes:

This is the last "episode" of part 2. (A prologue for part 3 is going up as well, so find me over there if you want to keep reading my long-winded RoE fics.)

Thank you so much for reading. xx

Jen closed the kitchen door, having pulled back a bottle of beer. It wasn't wine, but it was certainly alcohol...Audrey was right. She wasn't pregnant yet. She should drink everything.

"So last night was a big bust."

Timmy turned towards her from his place on the sofa, Russell and Adam to his side, preoccupied with whatever mindlessly violent game they were controlling on screen.

"I saw you tried to call. I do apologize, we were, uhm..."

He glanced towards Russell, whose teeth ground as he pushed buttons rapidly. "Oh yeah, zombie scum! Apocalypse? Not on my watch! CHAINSAW! Brrrrmmm, brrrrmmmm!"

Timmy turned back to Jen with a small sigh. "Preoccupied. We were preoccupied." Then thoughtfully, as an aside: "At least I can't."

"Can't what?"

"You're actually attempting to create offspring with yours."

Jen sniggered softly, returning to her beer. "Be nice."

Adam punched Russell lightly in the arm. "Dude, that one was mine."

"Lots of zombies, just pick another one to eviscerate, geez!"

Adam pouted a bit over his controller. "If this is how you're gonna act in the actual zombie apocalypse, I'm getting a new best friend."

Timmy gestured towards the men and Jen rolled her eyes, swallowing down more beer.

"Oh, Tim?" Adam reached across Russell's lap towards Timmy.

Russell recoiled with a grimace. "Awh, watch the member, huh?"

"I hope it's okay if I claim BFF status on your man again. I mean, you got bumped up. Russell here had an opening, thought I'd fill it."

As the group suppressed a collective groan, Russell rubbed firmly at his temple. "Okay, dude, we talked about this. Everything you say sounds...just really, really..."

"Y'sound gay," finished Jen.

Adam, confused furrow securing firmly to his face, chuckled in denial. "No, what...what are you guys talking about? I'm straight, I'm super straight." He thrust a hand in Jen's direction as evidence. "I mean...huh? Huh?!"

"Of course," said Timmy. "Nobody in the room is questioning your orientation..."

Russell rose a hand silently.

"Well, I orient straight!" He took to his feet, marching towards his wife. "Tell 'em, Jen, tell the guys how I orient."

"Yes," continued Timmy. "It's just that perhaps sometimes what you say might be perceived a tad, uhm..." He was met with an irritated though slightly brain dead stare. "Let me put it this way. There are three men in this room."

"Yeah?"

"Two of us actually go so far as to engage in...relations with one another."

Adam sniggered.

"Still, if we were in a crowd of strangers and one were chance to hear a string of double entendres escape your lips, they might mistake you for ever so slightly...mind you, they'd be mistaken in this imaginary scenario, but you may come across as just this side of--"

“Flamin’ gay,” interjected Russell with a laugh.

At this Timmy turned to Russell, staring him down. Russell silenced his laughter with a soft, "Oh," pushing himself away from Timmy at the visual scolding.

"Now, that said...there's nothing wrong with that. Who cares what people think?" He rose a brow in Russell's direction. "And it wouldn't hurt for this one to stop chiding you about it. Past this childishness, are we? I believe that ship has sailed?"

Russell looked away from Timmy, crossing his legs securely with a cough.

Jen passed by the men at the knock on the door, brushing a finger lightly against Russell's shoulders as she spoke. "Yeah, think you sorta christened that ship." She gave Timmy a sly smile as she smacked Russell a bit too firmly atop the head, taking great satisfaction in doing so.

He flinched as he looked back at her, then back towards Timmy, placing the full blame upon him. "Can't you do something about her?!"

Timmy shrugged defeatedly, stifling a satisfied grin; it hardly worked, and Russell scowled in annoyance, taking to his feet and walking his way across the apartment.

"Yeah, well, whatever. People beating me up, game sucks anyway, let's get outta here, why do we even hang out here..."

Adam looked towards the screen. "Yeah, game sucks because you're losing."

Russell mocked Adam with a, "Nya-nya-nya, nya," which was promptly returned, and this continued for a briefly irritating time before Jen appeared before Russell, wide-eyed and speaking through clenched teeth.

"Jeff."

"What?"

"Jeff was at the door. He'd like to speak with you."

"What are you talking abou--"

But before Russell could get in another word, Jeff had hoisted him up by the collar of his shirt in an attempt to face him eye-to-eye. He had him on tip toes and it still didn't add enough inches to make the effort pay off, but the fear in Russell's eyes was satisfying enough to make the attempt more than worth it.

Past the knuckles against his throat Russell sputtered, "What the hell, man?!"

"This is all your fault."

Russell's mind was racing, trying to remember what he'd done; what was Jeff angry about this time? There were probably a lot of things to be angry at him for. Had some mishap gone unpunished? This sort of reaction had so often had something to do with a chick, and he hadn't moved in on a chick in months. Wh-what, was he having one of those weird memory lapses, what was going on?!

Russell flailed an arm in Timmy's direction, who sat unflinching. Well, he may have flinched a little, but he wasn't running to help.

"I didn't do anything, lay off the threads!"

"Who was responsible for those flash card things?"

"What?! The...the flash cards?? Not me, wasn't me!"

"The other one?" Russell nodded rapidly and Jeff released him with a thud back upon the floor, making his way to where Timmy still sat on the sofa. He lowered next to him with a...'friendly' smile, and wrapped an arm slowly around his shoulder.

Oh...oh, dear.

"Heeey, Tim, y'know, we never take the time to chat? How the heck are ya?"

Timmy attempted a nervous smile. "We're...still mad about the flash cards, are we? My goodness, Mr. Bingham, that was so long ago, what say we let by-gones be by-gones?"

"Now, see, normally, I'd be all over that sort of thing, but uh...today Audrey dragged me out shopping and...well, seems your little cards planted a seed in that crazy brain of hers and now guess who gets to suffer for it?"

"Pardon me, so...so sorry..." Timmy carefully removed Jeff's arm from around his shoulder, fearful that it may at any moment slink around his neck and cut off all supply of oxygen. "But I'm really still not clear on why exactly our cards caused such an issue in the first place?"

Jeff relaxed just a touch. Okay, maybe it wasn't really Timmy's fault. Damn it, who was he gonna yell at, now?

"A game," he said, voice relaxing a touch. "She turned it into a stupid game."

"One we had no chance of winning," added Adam cautiously. "Like, a trivia game. Jen and Audrey basically whooped our butts."

"Whooped our butts?" Jeff scoffed. "More like a set-up, we never had a chance, the whole thing was rigged to drag us through the mud..."

"Hey!" Jen's voice rang through the room, all the men's eyes falling on her. Perhaps they'd forgotten one of the women in question was still there; indeed, her eyes looked positively firey, directed now towards Adam, who shrank in memory of the backlash from...the game.

She grumbled in apprehension before offering at last, "I let you back in the bedroom eventually," and made her own way towards the bedroom, to which the men in the room all seemed to release a visible breath of relief. She had looked fit to kill.

Adam looked towards Russell with a touch of irritation. "Man, you just had to give us those dumb cards. She barely talked to me for like a week."

Jeff gave off a single, sarcastic laugh. "Not talk to you? I wish. Audrey kept on quizzing me, for days with those stupid questions, she really had me by the..." He turned back to Russell sharply with a point of a finger. "Hey, wait, that's right. You've got me over here puttin' the fear of god into Timmy, you're the one who gave us the damn things!"

Russell pointed a finger back towards Timmy. "He wrote the things, and you had to deal with it for a few days? Try weeks on end, pal, he wouldn't shut up! From the time I married the sap it was questions about toothpaste and dishes and holidays that I'm pretending to celebrate!"

Timmy turned his head down with a heavy eye roll.

"I heard you roll your eyes. I can't even pronounce 'em, Timmy, how were those interviewers supposed to believe I celebrated them?!"

"All well and good now," spoke Timmy, putting on a cheerful smile laced in sarcasm. "And dearest, your favorite holiday is what, two-for-one margarita Mondays at Hooters?"

Russell tossed up his arms in protest. "That's not even a thing!"

"Oh, it's on Wednesdays now, is it?"

A loud roar from Jeff quickly put an end to this bickering. "HEY!" Russell and Timmy both shrank at Jeff's outcry, and he eyed the two of them in irritation. "Are you guys always like this now, is this normal...married...you guys?"

Russell and Timmy looked towards one another, muttering gently in denial...and then nodded, mutterings changing to confessions in the affirmative.

"Yeah, well, at least that ups my chances."

"Chances of what?" asked Jen, emerging from the bedroom with her arms firmly crossed upon her chest, risking coming back into the stupidity that seemed this conversation amongst the men.

Jeff sighed out heavily. "She...found a real version. Of the game."

Jen and Adam both protested a quiet, "Nooo..."

"Afraid so, yeah. Some kind of married couples game, fun for the whole gang. She sent me over to invite you guys for dinner and a game night, it's...just humor her. She's got a kid kickin' around her insides, she just got that new job, her emotions are still all over the place, just give her this one, huh?"

He pointed towards Russell and Timmy. "That goes for you guys, too. Show up or..." He began to slowly approach Russell again, who backed away slowly with a weak smile.

"Yeah, uhh...sounds delightful! We'll bring hor d'oeuvres. A nice cheese platter perhaps, or...? Timmy, you get on that, with the...cheese?"

"Mr. Bingham..." From the sofa came a sole voice of reason, Timmy speaking quite assured of himself. "If you don't want to play this game...I mean, if it was such a disaster the last time and you don't want to go through it again, why not just tell her so?"

Jeff shook his head with a soft laugh. Awh, what a cute question. He returned to his spot beside Timmy on the sofa, leaning his chin in a hand. "How uh, how long did you do crap for that guy over there that you didn't wanna do?"

Timmy looked towards Russell, who shrugged off the question.

"Yes, well, I was working for him, Audrey doesn't pay you to--"

"If I don't do what she says," Jeff interjected, "not only do I never hear the end of it, I uh...I don't receive...certain benefits."

Timmy scoffed at this. "Well, I personally have never felt it fair to play games within a relationship. I mean, now that I've quit working for Russell, we're on equal footing, and--"

"Equal footing?"

"Yes, of course."

All at once before Timmy, Russell leaned forward with a pitiful whine. "Hungry...all this talk about cheese and stuff..."

"Oh..." Timmy reached into a pocket, yanking out a bag of candy.

"Ooh, M&Ms! And you took out the red ones, perfect. Attention to detail, that's what I hired--" The men met eyes sharply. "Marr-...married you for." As Russell looked the offering over, however, his face soured. "Yugh, peanuts?"

"Oh, sorry, just...just a moment." He reached into the opposite pocket, pulling out a candy bar.

Russell yoinked this away quite happily. "Yay, Snickers!" He placed a quick kiss atop Timmy's head as he scuttled off, leaving Timmy to turn his head slowly back towards Jeff.

"He...was hungry," offered Timmy slowly. Jeff glared at him silently until he caved, sighing out in irritation. "When shall we arrive for dinner?"

"Hope you know that was pathetic."

"So, seven?"

"I play a board game, you carry candy. It's all for the same reason. There are certain...benefits to this marriage game. Not that I wanna imagine how that works for you guys or anything, but--"

"Seven it is, then?"

----------

"That was a lovely dinner, Mrs. Bingham."

The group was gathered casually around the living room, having just finished Audrey's home cooked meal. Russell had plunked instantly into an easy chair, slinking slowly down; Adam in the opposite chair, shaking his head a touch at Russell's poor dinner etiquette; Jeff stood wandering aimlessly about the room, beer in hand; and upon the sofa, Timmy sat sandwiched between the women.

"Oh, why, thank you, Timmy." Audrey gave a single eloquent nod. Then, a thought occurred to her. "You know, uhm, you could...drop the whole 'Mrs. Bingham' thing, you can call me Audrey, we're all friends here. All just friends and family." She looked over towards Russell, who had slunk halfway down the chair and was threatening sleep, jaw hanging pathetically open. "You're not working for...that, anymore."

"Just broke him," said Jen from the other side of the sofa. "No more 'Mrs. Rhodes'."

"Yeah," said Audrey. "I mean, it's not like any of us are calling you Mr. Patel--" She hesitated, looking back at the sleeping slump that was Russell. "Uhm. Mr. Duuun...?"

Timmy shook his head. "Noooo." He pointed to himself. "Patel." He pointed to Russell. "Dunbar." Then, thoughtfully: "When everything's finalized...I told him we'd discuss hyphenating."

"Oh." Adam chimed in from his place beside the sofa. "So, like...Dunbar-Patel?"

Timmy grimaced a bit. "He wishes, Dunbar-Patel."

Russell spoke through his sleep, mumbling just clear enough to hear: "Dunbar sounds better first."

Timmy spoke to Russell, despite the fact that he was clearly not awake. "Then you can be Dunbar-Patel, I can be--"

"Other way sounds stupid."

"It doesn't sound stupid, it's--"

"Nerrrtz, Timmy."

Timmy sat back with an aggravated growl. "Okay, you know what, this is why I wonder how I've managed to not strangle the man in his sleep."

Audrey wove a hand towards Russell. "Never mind that, we're here to have a good time. I'm sure you get enough of that at home."

"Enough," said Timmy, folding his legs with a sigh.

"How do you put up with him?"

"I have my ways," he replied, prompting more than a subtle nudge in the side from Jen to his right. He smirked in her direction. "Hm, well...at any rate, I apologize on his behalf, terribly ill-mannered, but then I suppose that's customary. Anyway, this really is lovely, we ought to all get together more often."

"You know, that's true," said Audrey. "The six of us really don't take the time to get together. I know dinner wasn't much, I mean, I'm so busy these days, what with the baby, and the pregnancy, and I just took this new job..."

"Oh, come now, Mrs. Bingham...pardon. Audrey. You've managed to create a delightful evening. Surely gracing us with such a heartfelt offering and the honor of your ever dignified presence is more than enough."

Audrey giggled girlishly, turning in a coyish blush. "Timmy!"

Jeff finally came up behind the trio, having observed the entirety of their conversation.

"No."

Audrey glanced back towards him, confused. "No, what?"

"No. You've got Jackie, Jen's got Timmy."

"Uhm...Jackie?" asked Timmy with a crooked smile.

"Audrey's gay friend," said Jeff a bit too casually as he continued pacing the room.

Timmy's brow furrowed, smile pulling into irritation.

"Come on, Jeff," said Audrey. "You know I lost touch with Jackie when he left town, I haven't talked to him in forever."

Timmy glared at Audrey, jaw falling slightly agape. "Really...?"

Jeff continued walking, whistling his way away from the mess he'd just unfurled.

"You take no issue with the other half of that statement...only that your previous gay enslave is no longer available?"

Audrey sank back in an attempt to save face, leaving Timmy to turn his attentions towards Jen.

"Is that what I am to the two of you, suddenly?"

"Timmy, no..."

"The gay friend?" He watched as Jen tried to fumble through a response and, dissatisfied, turned back to Audrey who did much the same. Then, facing forward, he huffed. "Well, lovely to know where I stand. I quite enjoy being an accessory."

"Timmy..." begged Jen desperately.

"Perhaps I'd fit in a tiny handbag."

Adam, who had remained silent for the entirety of this fiasco, laughed a touch at Timmy's snark; the group all looked to him scoldingly. "Oh...well, I mean, he...he wouldn't fit." Not a touch amused. He invited himself up from his seat, away from the scene. "Tough crowd."

The room fell silent for some time, the women peering over Timmy in silent consultation; how do we fix this? At last the silence was ended with a loud snore. All eyes fell to Russell, breaking a touch of tension.

And Timmy sighed in mild exasperation. Lovely. Lovely evening, as always.

"Beer?"

Timmy stared at the bottle that had been thrust in front of his face before peering up towards Jeff with a weak smile. "Oh...oh, no, I don't think so."

Jeff gestured to the women to either side of Timmy. "First of all, you've got whatever this is." He took a step back, hoisting a thumb in Russell's direction; another snort of a snore emanated from his direction. "Second of all, you're married to whatever that is."

Timmy stared at Russell poker-faced for a moment before snatching at the bottle in Jeff's hand. "Thank you."

Jen watched Timmy down a small swallow of beer before smacking him gently in the side, prompting him to look at her out of the corner of his eyes. She voiced a silent, "Sorry."

Audrey tapped a shoulder, gaining Timmy's attention. "Me too," she said aloud, prompting a silent nod of acceptance from Timmy, who looked down with a brief sigh.

"You're not an accessory, Timmy," offered Jen.

"Yeah," said Audrey in her most gentle, comforting voice. "I've always really liked you, Timmy, you know that. You've always been one of my favorite people...and I mean way before you were ever gaaa..." She cut herself off. "Uhm...you...you know what I--"

Timmy locked eyes with Audrey a moment; he took another swig of beer before offering her a friendly smile. "Thank you, Audrey."

"Maybe...maybe we should just..." She motioned towards the table. "Game. Set up the game."

"Yes."

The group took to their feet, Timmy shaking his head and regaining composure. They mean well, Timmy, they're trying.

As Jen passed by she leaned in close to his ear, braving words in hopes of reconciliation, speaking softly: "Well, you really wouldn't fit."

He watched her walk away without another word and laughed gently to himself as he made his way after the women, stopping only at his husband's side. His husband who was still quite fast asleep. His voice came out a sharp whisper: "Russell."

With a snort Russell awoke, looking around the room, Timmy already having walked swiftly away. "Huh, wha--? Where are we, what--?" Recognizing his surroundings, he sneered slightly. "Oh."

"Pleasure to have ya," came Jeff's gruff wake-up call, punching him against the shoulder. Not lightly. But as the rest of the group gathered around the table, Jeff found his way clear to speak to Russell confidentially. "You had the right idea, sleeping through this crap."

"What happened?"

"Eh, the usual. Women being women. Your, uh...nerd's a little tense."

"Timmy being Timmy." Russell stretched his arms as he stood with a yawn. Not the most comfortable spot for a nap.

Jeff slapped a hand against Russell's back. "How's that...workin' out for ya?"

"How's what working out?"

"You know, the whole...thing..." The men met in a silent stare. "With..." He whistled a long, slow whistle towards the group.

Russell scoffed out a laugh. Watching Jeff flail was becoming perhaps a little less awkward, a little more amusing. "Yeah, it's okay, I guess."

"He seems to hate you."

"Audrey hates you, isn't that how this marriage thing works?"

Jeff nodded. "Fair point." He looked towards the table and the rest of the gang, chittering away as they set up the game that would no doubt ultimately be his doom. All chipper smiles and laughter. The bespectacled, neatly pressed man was indeed a nerd, no doubt, but he seemed to fit the scene.

"Aud's been nagging me."

"Pft, women, am I right? Can't live with 'em, can't live...without..." Russell coughed and took to examining his hand through awkward mumbling. "So...nagging, Audrey, with the nagging..."

"She thinks I owe you an apology."

Russell rose a brow. "Why?"

"I, uh...I've been a little hung up on..."

"Oh. Oh, dude, it's...it's nothing, man, it doesn't matter, we don't have to...to talk about it."

"Okay. Okay, good, because...you know."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

The men met eyes for perhaps a bit too long. Jeff and Russell didn't usually...look at each other. For quite so long. It was...weird.

And Jeff felt suddenly compelled to spit out a rapid, "I'm sorry. For being a little...about you and Tim--"

"Yeah, no, it's...yeah." After a touch more silence in which neither man found the strength to break this uncomfortable staring match, Russell asked softly: "Are we supposed to...should we hug, or...?"

"No. No, we should not."

"...Didn't think so, no."

And so the men joined the others around the table, Jeff leaving a moment to enter the kitchen. He returned shortly thereafter with a fresh six-pack of beers, bottles, and placed it on the table, grabbing one with a nod. "Gonna need these." When Russell attempted to reach for a bottle he cut him off abruptly with a hand atop his. "I'm gonna need these."

Audrey clapped her hands, excited. "Okay, here we go! Now, remember everybody, I know we're gonna have fun here, but Shea's asleep in the nursery, so let's try and keep the noise level down."

Timmy tilted his head in thought. "She certainly sleeps at convenient times, doesn't she?"

"Wow," said Adam with a smile. "This baby thing is going to be easy!"

Audrey side-eyed Adam slightly before continuing. "So, everybody takes a pad of scratch paper," she said, plunking fresh rectangles of white and pencils in front of each couple. She placed several stacks of cards and a multi-colored die in the center of the table. "Now, we go around the table and each couple takes turns rolling the dice. The color tells you which card to draw, the card tells you what to do."

"Sounds easy enough," boasted Adam with a smug smile, rubbing his palms together. "Okay, I think we've got this in the bag, come on, let's play!"

"Okay, that settled it then," said Audrey, securing herself back down next to Jeff. "Jen and Adam go first."

For all his boasting, Adam's reluctance came through in the form of childish mockery. "Well, I mean, yeah, we're...gonna totally kick ass and everything, but Russell and Timmy started this whole thing, I think they should have to go first."

"Oh, man, come on!" protested Russell.

Audrey thrust the die in Russell's direction, pulling back her growing frustration. "Glad you're all having such a good time."

Timmy was the one to willingly role the die and pull the appropriately color-coordinated card, Russell looking positively bored with the whole scenario as it played out.

"Question and Answer," read Timmy. "Ahhh, old familiar territory, couples trivia. What say we show this group what for?" He looked to Audrey, exchanging a friendly competitive nod; the least he could do was show a touch of enthusiasm for her efforts. "We're going to take you all down." He prompted Russell with a light pat to the arm.

"Whateverrrr." Not helping.

Timmy sighed shortly. "Yes, well. The card reads: 'Partner one, write down your answer to the question. Partner two, try to guess partner one's answer.' Well, who's partner one and--"

"That'd be me, always number one," came Russell's curt reply.

Timmy withheld comment. Jen's eye roll and audible gag were less suppressed.

"Okay, fine. 'If you were to take a second honeymoon right now, where would you want to go?'"

Russell hunched over his paper, secretly writing out an answer, taking a touch longer than necessary with elaborately thoughtful faces and mutterings. Pencil placed finally down, he turned to Timmy with a smile. "Done."

"Very well, then. Now, first of all, and despite the fact we have yet to take a first honeymoon, I know he'd be inclined to write down something stupid. He'd probably want to go on that asinine Caribbean Stripper Cruise I've read so much about...the pamphlet's been lying casually about at home for weeks, don't think I haven't noticed."

"Wait," chimed in Jeff, suddenly awoken from a mild slumber. "That's a thing?"

"How does that work?" asked Adam.

"Are we talking a cruise for strippers?" asked Jeff. "Or is it..."

A grin crept over Russell's face as he leaned towards the men. "Pole runs straight through the center of the ship...the stage is just--" He spread his arms wide, indicating the scope of the Ship of Strip before Timmy promptly put an end to this demonstration, nonchalantly swiping down an arm.

"Anyway," continued Timmy, "I believe he's come to his senses and will have written a more sensible response. We've discussed perhaps going to visit my family who still reside in India. Not much there in the way of ogling naked women, but..."

Russell held his paper up with a whistle; it was Adam who snatched it from his hand and read, nodding in confirmation. "Yeah, he wrote India."

"Boom!" Russell shot both fists in the air. "Who's the thoughtful, considerate husband?!" He pointed to himself. "And you all doubted me, admit it."

"He scratched out his first answer," Adam was quick to add. "...Caribbean Stripper Cruise."

"Who crossed out the first answer? This guy."

"Yes," Timmy conceded flatly. "Considerate to no end. At any rate, I believe we get the point?"

"You got both my answers, technically I believe that's two points?"

Audrey tsk-tsk'd Russell as she jotted down the score quickly. "One point."

"Well, now, let's not be so hasty," Timmy countered. "After all, I did suggest that--"

"That's ONE point...somehow," Audrey insisted, pulling back her rising irritation towards the Dunbar-Patel-Dunbars.

"Yeah, well," Adam snapped in, snatching up the die. "I'll see your two points and raise you, like, a million."

"One point!!" came Audrey's voice, practically a yell. "Everybody gets one, just one, what, do you think I'm the point fairy, am I just MADE of points, here?!"

To her side, Jeff placed gentle hands, easing her down with strokes to the back. "Shhh...shhh. Our friends are all idiots, I know, it's okay."

Adam, cautiously side-eyeing Audrey, carried on taking his turn. Card in hand, he read aloud: "Uh, okay: 'Charades'...Ooh, fun!"

"Ohh, no." Jen was less inspired.

"'Partner one, reenact an important moment from the history of your relationship for partner two to try and guess.' I wanna do it, let me do it, I've got this!"

Jen groaned in apprehension, but failed to put up a fight. "Okay..."

Adam stood, arms stretched wide, preparing to act out his clue. "Eh-eh-hem...okay, you ready?"

"Ready..."

Adam took a deep breath, grounding, preparing for his role. Then..... "Really ready?"

"Adam!"

A nod; it was time.

But the longer Jen watched, the longer Adam went about with his elaborate pantomiming, the more her face pulled into a confused sneer. What the hell, Adam? What...the...hell?

He had tucked his hands into his armpits and taken to flapping. Like a bird. A bird. He had lifted one leg, and stuck out his head. He had mistakenly began to make a gentle "caw"-ing noise and chuckled at himself. "Oops, can't talk during charades...crap, forget I just said that. Crap! Forget I said that too."

"What are you doing, Adam??"

Adam unfurled his arms, put down his leg. "Charades..."

"I mean, what are you doing?"

"Silly. I can't just give you the answer, then we don't get the point."

"We're not gonna get the point, Adam, I forfeit. How is you acting like a chicken in the middle of Jeff and Audrey's living room an important moment from our relationship?"

Adam looked downright offended. "Mambo is not a chicken, he is a beautiful, proud, white cockatoo...no offense, Timmy."

Timmy voiced a baffled, "Uhm..." and nothing more.

Jen could no longer hold back her frustration, taking to her feet. "The bird?? This was supposed to be about your stupid bird?"

"Hey, we both brought him home that day, Jen, he is our bird."

"You could have acted out so many things, you chose the bird?!"

Tempers rising on both sides, Adam responded smugly, "Well, fine, if you're so great at this, what would you have done?"

Without a word, Jen dropped to one knee in front of Adam. Having supposedly made her point, she gestured towards herself with a wave of her arms.

"Well, what's that supposed to be?"

"The night you proposed to me!!"

"Well, c'mon Jen, that could be anything. You could be looking for a contact lens, or--"

"I don't even wear contacts!"

Audrey rose her voice above the couple. "So no point, then!!"

Russell elbowed Timmy in the ribs with a light chuckle. "We're winning, dude." Audrey's silent glare was enough to set Russell into submission. "Oh my god, scary pregnant lady," he murmured, gripping at Timmy for protection.

As Jen and Adam begrudgingly righted themselves, aggressively sitting back at the table...loudly...Audrey began to work on Jeff. Jeff, who had taken to mindlessly staring forward in an attempt to escape the madness surrounding him, beer cemented firmly in hand.

"Jeff...JEFF."

"Wha--?"

"Roll the dice, pull a card."

"Oh, yeah, the thing with the cards and the...the game. Fun, this is fun!" He did as instructed. With a smile on his face. FUN! "Let's see, we got...'Sharing is Caring'...oh, boy. Says 'Each partner has one minute to write down five words relating to the couple's relationship together. Match at least one word to get the point. Words must start with the following letter: M.' Why M?"

"Letter M, words about our relationship, got it," said Audrey, readying her paper and pencil.

"I'll keep time," offered Timmy, looking to his watch.

Jeff grunted lightly over his paper as the couple began writing.

For one boring minute, Adam tried to bring back around a steaming Jen. "Seriously, I thought you wore contacts."

"Yeah, well, one of these nights the bird will probably peck my eyes out and then--"

"He would never!"

Russell attempted once more to secure a beer, deeming Jeff adequately distracted, only to have his hand slapped swiftly away.

"Time!" announced Timmy.

"What, seriously?" Jeff moaned. "I've got like three words here."

"Well, they'd better be good ones then," said Audrey with a smile. "Let's see what ya got."

But as Audrey snatched Jeff's paper, her smile slowly began to slip away. Jeff's face remained ever locked in a cautionary grimace; he knew he was done for before he'd ever started. No sense in pushing the panic button this late in the game.

"The Mets, Jeff? Your first thought was to put down the Mets?"

"We've gone to Mets games together. At...Shea Stadium, which is...what we named our child, huh? Huh, doesn't get much more about our relationship than that, does it?"

Audrey groaned out long and low. "I...will give you that one, I guess. If I have to."

"Did you put--"

"No, I didn't put the Mets."

Audrey read Jeff's second word with a frustrated tilt of her head. "Meat? Seriously Jeff, meat?"

"We eat a lot of meat."

Audrey shoved Jeff's paper away.

"Are you even gonna look at my third--"

"Don't need to."

"But we might have a match."

"Seriously doubt it."

"You didn't even read off any of your answers, though..."

"I believe it's Russell and Timmy's turn?"

Jeff picked up his paper, looking it over silently for a moment as Russell carried on rolling the die and pulling another card. Jeff, still hyper-focused, turned his paper around for the group. "Wrote down 'Mad Max'--seen that movie so many times now..."

"Ohh," said Adam. "I love that one!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," shot in Russell. "Mel Gibson, that is a classic."

"Ohh!" Jeff gasped in realization, head turning slowly toward Audrey. "And Mel Gibson...starts with M."

"Mel Gibson is not on my list, Jeff!" Audrey began mentally making a list of all her poor life decisions, ending with this stupid game.

"I would totally put Mel Gibson on my list." All eyes turned to Adam, whose broad smile faded slowly down upon realization that the looks he was receiving were slightly crooked in nature. "What...?"

Russell replied casually, "List of men you wanna sleep with, that list?"

"Oh, come on!" But everybody had already set back into regular business with light laughter, looking away from a protesting Adam. "That's not fair...! H-he was good in Braveheart! Freeeedooom!"

Jen patted Adam softly on the back, easing him down. "It's okay, honey."

"He's so mean," Adam snarled in Russell's direction.

"I know."

"So mean."

"I'm sure Timmy will put him in time out when they get home."

Timmy nodded in assurance.

Jeff, still looking over his pathetic attempt of a list, grumbled over his beer: "Shoulda said Manchurian Candidate."

Russell shot up a hand. "Can we take our turn now, huh, it's still our turn, isn't it? Is Adam done fawning over celebrity crushes, are we done with that?"

Adam narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue. "Fine. Take your stupid turn." As Jen carried on patting his back he muttered, "Man, my BFF's a jerk."

Russell, properly bored of heckling Adam, returned to the card in his hand. "Ugggh. Question and Answer again..."

"Oh, come on!" protested Jeff. "Why are these knuckleheads getting all the easy ones?"

"Jerks never play fair." Adam crossed his arms, stewing in the broth of his ever growing, childish hatred for Russell. "And you can't trust them in a zombie apocalypse, either."

"What?" asked both Jeff and Audrey, leading Timmy to promptly shoot down the question.

"Zombies, husbands are idiots, etcetera, ad nauseam, what does the card say?"

"Ah, god, it's like Vietnam flashbacks," Russell groaned. "Thought we were done with this crap, why do we have to know so much stuff about each other?"

"Yes, heaven forbid we become acquainted. The card?"

"Okay, so you answer this one, I guess your answer?"

"Correct."

"It says, uh.....oh. Oh, my god, dude!" Russell thrust his head back in breathless laughter, causing the whole table to stare mindlessly in his direction.

At last Timmy ventured carefully, "What on earth does it say?"

"We get the point," said Russell finally through his laughter, placing the card back upon the table, ignoring the look of pure confusing strewn across Timmy's face.

Jen reached across the table finally, picking up the card and reading. Her shoulders dropped, her eyes rolled, and she spoke with a grumble: "They get the point."

"What's it say?" queried Audrey.

Adam took the card from Jen, and, with a defeated sigh read the words: "'What's the worst job you've ever had?'"

"ME!" Russell proclaimed, pounded his feet excitedly beneath the table. "It's me, I'm the worst, he hates me, we get the point!!"

Timmy had no time to sputter out his lack of rebuttal before Jeff gestured towards the couple in protest. "Oh, come on, now I know this thing is rigged!"

"Yeah," said Adam, "I mean, that's not fair, we can't just give them that one, can we? And Timmy didn't even write it down, Russell just did his little victory yell. Obnoxious, obnoxious victory yell."

"Well...technically, but..." began Audrey. She looked to Timmy, seeking his response.

Timmy looked around the table slowly, all eyes latched to him, faces seeming to grow ever more vexed the longer he lingered on the inevitable response. And finally: "Yes. Yes, he's the worst. Of course he is."

"Yeah!" Russell threw his arms about Timmy, shaking him most victoriously. "Of course I am."

Then, all eyes fell back on Audrey in anticipation. She tapped her pencil against her paper with a slooow breath out. At last, she declared: "Russell and Timmy get the point."

There was an outcry of objections save for a lone, "Woo! Yeah, boy!" from Russell, earning a satisfied fist-bump from Timmy; they had earned the point, after all.

And then, the room fell quiet. Too quiet. At last Timmy suggested the obvious. "Uhm, I believe it's Adam and Jennifer's turn?"

"Actually," interjected Audrey. "I hate to cut this short, but I just heard the baby, so..."

Russell rose a curious brow. "I didn't hear anything."

"I have a mother's ear," she said with a smile.

Timmy shook his head. "Nor did I--"

"MOTHER'S EAR." She stood, walking swiftly in the direction on the baby's room. "Been a great time, let's do it again real soon, see you all at the diner?" And, reaching the nursery, the door closed behind her.

Huh. Jeff stood slowly, sucking his teeth in thought. He put up a finger, mouth trying to form words. "I....am....going to go. And...help her. With the baby." As he walked, he laughed softly under his breath. Turning as he entered the room, he searched for more words. "It's...been a thing. Don't call us, we'll call you." And with that, he was gone.

Russell and Timmy turned to Jen and Adam, aiming to speak, only to find Adam standing quite abruptly.

"Left the oven on," said Adam quickly.

"What? No, you didn't," said Jen.

"I need to go turn the oven on," he amended, and made a fast dash for the front door. He turned towards Russell and Timmy before leaving. "Y'know, nobody likes a cheater," he said, puffing out his chest.

"We didn't--" began Timmy, but Adam was already gone.

Jen stood from the table with a roll of her eyes. "He hates losing. Never play Candy Land with him, he was stuck for an hour once in the Molasses Swamp and I never heard the end of it. He wouldn't even eat candy for a month. See you guys later."

And so the men watched Jen leave before sitting alone in awkward silence for some time, looking around the Binghams' quiet, lonely apartment.

"Soooo," drawled Russell. "We should...probably leave."

"Yes," Timmy nodded slowly in agreement, smoothing down his sleeves. "Seems the evening's ended on a rather discourteous note, but on the upside, I believe we've won the game."

Russell gave off a singular laugh and a soft pat upon Timmy's back. "Yeah, I believe we did. And our prize..." As Russell stood, he reached towards Jeff's beer on the table.

"I wouldn't do that, Russell."

"Like that gorilla can count?" He had already handed Timmy a beer before he could face further objections.

As Timmy stood, he shrugged in submission. "Well, perhaps he'd understand--" A second bottle was thrust into his other hand. "Really?!"

"One for the road."

"You're going to drink the first one before we even get downstairs?"

"Have to do something in the elevator."

"You know, we could always talk without the addition of alcohol..." Even Timmy had to acknowledge the slight absurdity in his suggestion, lifting the second beer with a nod as Russell contained a laugh.

Russell was already drinking by the time the men exited the apartment.

Not a minute later, Jeff emerged from the nursery; he entered the kitchen...then walked swiftly back out towards the table, grabbing a nearly empty pack of alcohol.

"Assholes stole my beer."

----------

"Do you want a honeymoon?"

Timmy had been practically asleep. He opened his eyes slowly with a very soft sigh, these late-night whisperings quite common territory. He turned on the lamp upon his nightstand and flipped in bed to face Russell, their eyes meeting in the dim light of the bedroom.

"I want sleep, Russell." Timmy aimed to flip back around, and found Russell's arm thrown against him, ensuring he'd stay securely in place.

"Most people go on a honeymoon."

"Yes, well...we're far from most people."

"You could show me all those places you're always yammerin' about, uh...South Africa. India. See your family, huh? Your parents are warming up to me."

"Lukewarm."

"Hey, I'll take lukewarm."

Timmy had a hard time staying irritated, forgetting his desire to escape the present conversation in favor of sleep; his smile came easily, but held an apology on behalf of others. "I'm afraid it's the best you'll get from them."

"Well...I've got you, so. Y'know, the rest is just..." Russell was cut off by a soft kiss. When Timmy retrieved his lips, collapsing back upon the bed in a most satisfyingly casual way, Russell breathed out at the sight of him. "Yeah. Yeah, see, lukewarm is good."

Timmy was pulled from the warmth of Russell's gaze by a soft ringtone. What on earth? He reached for the phone on the nightstand, answering cautiously. "...Hello?"

Jeff's voice came across the line gruff, direct, and a bit threatening. "Don't touch my beer." And Timmy looked to his phone, finding the call having already disconnected.

"Who was it?"

"It was...nothing. It was nothing. Now, back to sleep."

But Russell had already drifted back into his own thoughts. "Y'know, if we did do the honeymoon thing we could have a real wedding over there? A super shindig, back-home style, you could deck it out all--"

"Sleep," Timmy insisted to a grumbling, pouting Russell. "There's time for all of this later, you've work in the morning, you need your rest. Back to sleep."

As Russell pulled the blanket past his chest he rolled his eyes and in a childish voice mocked, "Fine, mom."

"You know, I really hate it when you call me that."

"I really hate when you act like my mom."

As Timmy watched Russell's eyes close down, he reached back toward the lamp upon his nightstand, aiming to turn off the light; his eyes landed for a moment on a piece of paper. A note with three brief words, words from his mother...decidedly warm words: Make new memories.

Timmy's hand fell against the paper, eyes shifting back toward his husband, whose fingers reached for him, begging his touch. And all was well in the still of the bedroom; all was right, as Timmy Patel's fingers brushed those of Russell Dunbar quite softly, quite sincerely.

"Doing my best," he assured the note softly, turning off the light.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of To Be With You