Super Hot

That was in March. It was now May. Kevin was in town for commencement and to help move Andrew to Cincinnati. Neil and Andrew had kicked their roommate out of the dorm for the week so they could say thank you. They were saying thank you quite enthusiastically, all three of them tangled up on Andrew’s bed, wet open kisses and bare skin on skin, when phones started going off.

First Neil’s. Then Andrew’s. Then Neil’s, again, and then someone started pounding on the dorm room door.

“Something important?” Kevin asked. He only pulled back a fraction, so his words chilled the skin he’d been sucking a moment before.

Andrew shivered, and put his hand on the back of Kevin’s head. “No.” He pulled Kevin down and Kevin’s lips brushed against his collarbone.

There was a flash of light. Neil said, “Hold that for a moment,” and took another picture. He put the camera down, and settled against Kevin’s spine. “Okay, continue,” he said cheerfully, putting his hands on Kevin’s hips.

The knocking continued even louder. Nicky started shouting in counterpoint. “Come on, Neil, you promised!”

Andrew and Kevin looked at Neil. Andrew glared suspiciously over Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin twisted around as best he could. Both of them looked distinctly unimpressed.

Wide-eyed with confusion, Neil shrugged. “I have no idea what he’s talking about. I thought Erik was coming in today.”

“He did,” Andrew said.

“Shouldn’t they be busy, then?” Kevin said.

“We’re busy,” Andrew reminded them. He pulled Kevin back around to kiss him.

Somehow that turned into the three of them at a bowling alley with Nicky, Erik, and Aaron.

(“Go away, Nicky.”)

(“Oh, I didn’t know Kevin was in town. The teams will be uneven. Maybe Aaron’s free?”)

(“Neil, I’m going to disembowel you and use your intestines to gag him.”)

(“This is why I should have gotten a hotel.”

(“Andrew, he’s moving to Germany. This might be the last time you see him in years.”)

(“If only I was that lucky.”)

It only got worse from there. In the middle of exam week, the bowling alley was deserted except for employees. All the lanes looked sad and empty. There was dust in the corners, and the floor was slightly sticky. The six of them approached the rental counter with varying degrees of trepidation.

“What do you mean, we need to rent shoes?” Kevin demanded. He looked at Neil, as though Neil had any idea what he was doing.

“It might be a joke?” Neil looked to Andrew for more information. It was a fool’s hope.

Andrew ignored them both in favor of staring at his phone. He must have been texting Renee, since everyone else he talked to was in the building with him.

Nicky said, “Don’t tell me neither of you have been bowling.” He was holding hands with Erik and smiling hard enough his face looked like it might crack in half. He kept calling Erik obnoxious pet names every thirty seconds or so. Neil kept half an eye on his watch; right on time, Nicky batted his eyelashes at Erik and said, “Little Bear of Love, tell me at least you’ve been bowling?”

Neil choked. Nicky didn’t notice, too busy staring adoringly up at Erik, but Kevin thoughtfully pounded his back. It sent Neil staggering into Andrew. Andrew didn’t bother looking up from his phone, though he did put out a hand to steady Neil.

“Can we get on with this?” Aaron asked from the back of the group. “I have an actual date tonight.”

“You could have invited Katelyn,” Nicky said, pulling away from Erik to look at Aaron.

Aaron (and Andrew, for that matter) looked disgusted at the very idea. He would have been better off sneaking out the door behind their backs, but Nicky was leaving the country. Even Aaron might miss him. That was Neil’s theory, anyway, as to why Aaron was crashing what was likely to be the worst and most awkward double date in history.

“They have a bar,” Kevin said quietly, his eyes lighting upon the far wall. An exhausted bartender was attacking a six inch thick textbook with a highlighter.

Neil and Andrew each reached out and grabbed one of Kevin’s hands.

“No,” said Andrew.

“We have plans for tonight,” Neil pointed out.

“Are you telling me you don’t need a drink to get through this farce?” Kevin appealed directly to Andrew.

Andrew let go of Kevin’s hand.

“Traitor,” Neil muttered, as Kevin pulled free of him and made a beeline for the bar.

“Thank God,” Aaron said, and followed after Kevin.

“I still need your shoe sizes,” the woman behind the counter reminded them.

Things Neil learned: Andrew and Aaron took children’s shoe sizes, which pissed Aaron off, but Andrew didn’t care; even with Erik standing right there, Nicky was incapable of not making a dick joke about Kevin’s size 13’s; Erik thought dick jokes were super funny; bowling alleys wouldn’t let you rent shoes unless you gave them another pair as collateral; bowling shoes were weird and uncomfortable; and Erik thought Kevin was dating Aaron, not Andrew and Neil.

“They are very cute together,” Erik confided in Neil as they sat on a bench changing their shoes. “I was surprised when Nicky mentioned that they had found each other. I know Aaron made life difficult for Nicky a few years ago. I suppose it was just fear of himself.”

He was speaking in English, since Nicky had explained that not everyone was fluent in German. For a long moment, Neil thought he’d mixed his own languages up. He looked again at Kevin and Aaron at the bar. Kevin had his Public Face on as he chatted, and Aaron was staring intently as the bartender put together their tray. They barely looked like they knew each other.

Neil started to correct him, but Nicky stole Erik’s attention by dropping into his lap and kissing him.

“Huggy Berry Pie,” Nicky said.

Neil hasted to his feet and crossed to the lanes. Andrew fell into step beside him. Their matching clown shoes were slippery on the floor.

“Nicky told Erik that Kevin’s dating Aaron,” Neil said, sliding into the scorekeeper’s seat at the furthest end of the room. There was a table directly behind him that Aaron claimed by virtue of sitting on top of it and slumping against the wall with his feet dangling over the edge. It gave him an almost unimpeded view of the alley, including the bar.

Andrew blinked slowly. “Kevin can date whoever he wants,” he said, but he looked at where Kevin and Aaron were bringing back two trays of alcohol and frowned.

“I don’t think Kevin wants to date Aaron,” Neil said meditatively. “We could ask?”

“Kevin,” Andrew said, as Kevin and Aaron put the drinks on the next closest table. “Do you want to date Aaron?”

“What?!” Aaron sputtered. “No! Not ever!” He crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

“Katelyn will be glad to hear that,” Neil said, looking over his shoulder at the two of them. “Kevin?”

Kevin had already drank half a glass of beer. He said, “I’ve had nightmares where I mixed the two of them up.” He drained the rest of the beer and put the empty mug back on the table.

“Hey!” Aaron glared at Kevin.

Neil grinned. “Really?”

“No,” Kevin said, leaning over Neil’s shoulder to see what he was doing. “But now I might.”

Aaron sat down at the table and glowered down into his beer.

“Relax, Aaron, I think we’ve settled it that Kevin has no interest in you,” Andrew smirked.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Kevin asked Neil.

Neil looked back to the screen in front of him “Not really,” he admitted. “But it seems to be pretty self explanatory. Teams. Names. Bumpers?” He looked up Kevin. Kevin looked back.

“Stop right now!” Nicky yelled, dragging Erik toward them by the hand. “We are two-times division one champions! We don’t need bumpers!”

Kevin automatically corrected him. “Three times.”

“Ravens don’t count,” Neil and Nicky chorused.

Nicky held out his free hand to Neil for a high five. Neil stared at him until he put it away. He hadn’t forgotten the Andrew-Aaron-Kevin mix-up.

Nicky pouted. “And you two. Go get your shoes,” he commanded Aaron and Kevin. “You aren’t supposed to be on the alley floor without bowling shoes.”

After looking at Neil’s feet, Kevin said “I’ll pass.”

Andrew cleared his throat. Kevin rolled his eyes and muttered something unkind under his breath, but he went and got the shoes. Aaron followed after. While they were busy, Nicky looked at what Neil had done with the scorecard.

“Oh, that’s boring. Haven’t you at least seen movies?” Nicky asked.

“Boring?” Neil asked blankly.

“The names! You’re supposed to put in something funny, not just normal things.” Nicky looked at Erik for support.

“This is your show, sweetheart,” Erik said.

Nicky blinked. “Oh,” he said, “This is fun, though. Right, Honey Bunny Buckles?”

Erik put his arms around Nicky. “I’m glad I get to spend time with you and your family,” he murmured.

Then they were kissing again. Andrew tapped Neil’s shoulder and nodded at the rack of bowling balls. Neil followed him, grateful for some distance. Nicky was a lot to deal with on a good day. Today, bubbly and effusive from Erik’s visit, he was worse than usual. Neil could use a distraction.

The bowling balls shone under the flourescent lights. Neil picked up the first one he saw.

“Which one are you supposed to pick?” he asked Andrew, as Andrew was carefully going through the balls.

Andrew hefted a blue and gold ball a couple times in his right hand. “One you can throw.”

Neil looked at the rack, and then at Andrew. “I thought they rolled down the lane?”

“Underhand throw that ends in a roll,” Andrew said.

Something he could throw. Neil had pretty good aim, but it might be good to go for something a little lighter than the sparkly green one he was holding. He traded it for a bright red ball and considered it carefully. It wasn’t like he couldn’t change it out later, right? He replaced it on the rack.

“Made up your mind?” Andrew asked.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Neil said.

“It’s not rocket science.”

Neil stuck his tongue out at Andrew. Andrew’s gaze darkened, and just for a moment Neil thought he might lean in and kiss him. He dismissed the thought immediately. He didn’t actually want the kind of PDA Nicky seemed to crave, and Andrew knew that. It was just that it had been 6 weeks since the three of them were together, and the sudden nearness was a little overpowering. Neil understood why Nicky had dragged them all out, but it really would have been nice if he’d waited another hour.

“We should head back,” Andrew said abruptly.

Neil dragged his eyes away from Andrew’s mouth. “Yeah.” he agreed, slightly hoarse.

Andrew’s fingers were white knuckles on the ball in his hand. He turned away. Neil couldn’t blame him. He grabbed the first ball he saw off the rack and followed Andrew back to their tables.

Aaron and Kevin had returned and sat down at the second table. They appeared to be dividing up all the drinks they had bought between them. Neil dropped into the seat beside Kevin and held out his purple bowling ball for inspection.

“We have to throw it,” Neil told Kevin. He took the diet coke can that lay abandoned in the center of the table. Kevin at the ball, shrugged, and took another sip of beer.

“You’re going to be awful at this,” Aaron predicted.

“It’s bowling,” Kevin objected. “It’s not like it matters.”

“It isn’t Exy,” Neil said to tease Kevin, but Kevin just nodded seriously.

“Exactly,” Kevin said. “Which reminds me -”

“No!” Aaron and Andrew and Nicky all chorused.

“Nicky banned work talk,” Erik said. He grinned at Kevin. Kevin glared back so coldly even Erik faltered.

It was going to be a long night.

The first game was a disaster for Neil’s team. Andrew, to no one’s surprise, either got a strike or utterly failed to knock over a single pin. The handful of drinks Kevin downed plus his very Andrew-like apathy about the game meant most of his throws ended up in the gutter. Neil was more interested in getting Andrew to open up about his previous bowling experiences than his own current experience, so he didn’t even notice if he knocked a pin over or threw a gutterball.

(“When did you bowl before?”)

(“There were programs for troubled children.”)

(“Were you on a team? There are bowling teams, right?”)

(“Go take your turn before Nicky explodes.”)

(“Did you like it? Bowling, I mean.”)

(“942%”)

(“I’ll take that as a yes.”)

Nicky, Aaron, and Erik, on the other hand, did much better. It came out that Nicky used to bowl with his church group in high school. Aaron never got a strike, but he also never left more than three pins standing. And Erik was better than both of them.

“Great game!” Nicky said, once the final scores were tallied. “Butterfly Baby Heart, you’re really good at this. Why didn’t I know that?”

Aaron edged away from them. “I was promised pizza,” he said, looking from Nicky to Andrew. “I didn’t agree to come just for free drinks.”

“You would have, though,” Kevin pointed out.

“But I didn’t,” Aaron said.

Andrew tossed Aaron his wallet. “Take Nicky and order enough for all of us,” he said. “Kevin, Neil, pick out heavier weights. I’ve seen toddlers get higher scores.”

Neil stared at that unusual display of interest, but Kevin grabbed his hand and dragged him back to the ball rack. As Aaron hooked an arm through Nicky’s and dragged him away, he got it.

“I didn’t think he had a problem with Erik,” Neil said. He put the purple ball back and started going through the rest of them. It was a little easier to understand what he was looking for, now that he’d actually bowled.

“I don’t know if they’ve ever met for more than a few minutes,” Kevin said, also studying the selection.

“What’s he saying?” Neil asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“At a guess?” Kevin shrugged. “He’s probably not actually holding a knife on him.”

“If he is, I get to sit in your lap on the way home,” Neil said. He was going to either way. The drive over had been twenty minutes of pure misery. Andrew was rewarding Kevin’s visit with passenger seat privileges. That left four people to squash themselves into the three seater bench in the back. Even with Aaron and Neil as two of the four, it was awful.

Kevin smiled down at him. “Agreed,” he said. They shook on it.

Instead of pulling his hand away, Neil squeezed it tightly. “I’m glad you’re here,” Neil told him.

“I miss you, too,” Kevin said. He tucked a lock of hair behind Neil’s ear.

“You completely misunderstand me,” Neil said, stroking his thumb over the scars on the back of Kevin’s captured hand. “I’m glad you’re around so I’m not the worst bowler here.”

“Is that a challenge, Neil?” Kevin asked, his voice going slow and deep.

Neil snorted. “When are you ever a challenge?”

Kevin sneered. “You’re on,” was all he said.

They returned to the balls, comically intense.

When they finally made their way back to the tables, it was to a pale and slightly hollow-eyed Erik. Andrew had joined Nicky and Aaron at the bar to supervise or take his wallet back; it was unclear which. Erik kept giving him nervous glances over his shoulder. When Neil and Kevin sat down across from him, he jumped.

“Oh!” Erik said. “You’re back.” He swallowed twice.

Neil pushed one of the remaining beers toward him. “You look like you need this,” he said neutrally.

Erik took the glass in shaking fingers. “Is Andrew always so -” he groped for the word. Neil didn’t know if he was trying to remember the correct English, or just had no idea how to finish that sentence without being massively insulting. He tried to help.

“Unsettling?” Neil offered.

“Terrifying,” Kevin supplied.

“Overprotective,” Neil tried.

“Violent,” Kevin suggested.

“Violent’s good,” Neil said. “Do you mean violent?”

“He’s carrying a knife!” Erik said, wild-eyed.

Neil leaned back in his seat, satisfied. “Ha!” he said to Kevin. “I win.”

Kevin grumbled, but there was no heat to it.

“And the two of you know about the knife,” Erik said. He muttered, “Dammit, Nicky said they were all crazy,” in German.

“It’s true,” Neil said. “But if you want Nicky, you’re going to have to deal with it.”

Erik’s eyes snapped to Neil’s. “I see,” he said slowly. A hesitant smile broke across his face. “Did I pass?”

“It wasn’t a test,” Neil protested.

Erik gave him a look.

“It wasn’t,” Kevin said firmly. “If you think it was, you should leave now.”

“I’m not going to do that,” Erik said, almost before Kevin finished speaking. “Never.”

“Good,” said Neil.

Kevin rolled his eyes. “You’d be better off running,” he informed Erik, but he was holding Neil’s hand under the table.

Though second game was another rout, this time it was in Neil, Kevin, and Andrew’s favor. Kevin had switched to soda. Neil spent minutes lining up each swing. Andrew didn’t do anything differently, and got exactly the same score. With Kevin and Neil actually trying, it was no contest.

Nicky frowned the second time Kevin scored a strike. “Did you hustle us?”

Kevin didn’t even look at him, just centered himself on the lane and repeated the trick.

Nicky looked at Andrew. “Did you put him up to this?”

Andrew also ignored him. He was halfway through his third slice of pizza, and showed no signs of slowing down.

Nicky turned to Neil. Before he could say anything, Neil cut him off.

“Don’t tell me you made a bet on this game?” Neil smirked over his own pizza.

Nicky nodded unhappily. “Whoever wins this game has to get the car detailed this week.”

Neil looked at the score. “That was really stupid of you,” he said.

“I hate you,” Nicky told him.

Erik put his arm around Nicky. “They did pay for dinner,” he pointed out.

“You’ve never seen Andrew’s standards for car care,” Nicky said, and put his face against Erik’s shoulder. Erik started petting him and whispering German endearments. They were almost as bad as Nicky’s.

The final score was approximately 10 zillion to 1. Andrew seemed pleased. Nicky was less so. Neil didn’t care about the team score; he was more concerned with his competition with Kevin. That one had ended in a tie.

“Rematch?” Kevin asked doubtfully.

“Maybe on court tonight,” Neil said.

Kevin grinned like a shark. “Perfect,” he said.

Andrew grabbed both of them by the back of their necks. “No,” he said firmly.

“Maybe tomorrow night,” Neil amended.

“Stop flirting,” Aaron called at them. “No one wants to see that.”

Neil flipped him off. Andrew dragged them both off to get their shoes back. The bowling alley had not, as Kevin darkly whispered might happen, lost their shoes. The woman in charge of shoe rentals did mention that they had a bin of lost and unmatched sneakers customers could look through, in the event someone’s shoes did go missing. The look of horror on Kevin’s face at this precious gem of information caused Neil to collapse into laughter.

Andrew kicked him gently in the side. “I’m fairly certain you don’t want to be rolling around on the floor, here.”

Kevin looked sick. “I’m absolutely certain you aren’t getting near me tonight without showering.”

“We washed the floors last month!” The employee looked affronted.

Neil scrambled to his feet, wiping his eyes and still grinning. He tried to lean against Kevin, but Kevin backed away and put Aaron between them.

“Don’t even think about it,” Kevin said.

“Are we all set?” Nicky asked. He and Erik had been lagging behind because they kept stopping to kiss. Nicky had his arm around Erik’s waist, and even now Erik was looking down at him was a soppy smile on his face.

Neil was 90% sure he never looked at Kevin or Andrew that way. 85% sure. Maybe 70%. At least, not in public.

“We were all set three hours ago,” Aaron muttered.

Nicky hit Aaron on the back of the head. “Shut up. You had fun. I caught you smiling twice.”

“Smirking,” Aaron objected. “I was laughing at Neil.”

“See? You had fun!” Nicky said. He turned appealing eyes to Neil. “Group photo before we go?”

“Bastard,” Kevin said. Neil might have gone a bit photo happy this last year, trying to make sure he’d have something of his friends next year. A collage of amateur photographs might not actually be Andrew smoking on the roof, or Matt playing Super Mario on the couch, or Allison braiding Renee’s hair, but it was something.

Also, Nicky had informed Neil he needed to decorate his own dorm room next year, because Nicky and Andrew weren’t going to be around to do it for him.

Neil pulled his camera out of his pocket. He looked at the shoe rental woman. “Would you mind?” he asked, holding out his camera.

The woman (her name tag said Joan) took the camera with a long suffering sigh. “Alright,” she said, and gestured that they should huddle up.

Neil grabbed Andrew. Nicky grabbed Aaron and Kevin. Erik followed easily enough.

“Twins and Neil in front!” Nicky said, pushing people around to arrange them.

“Kevin should stand behind Aaron,” Erik said.

“What? Why -” Aaron started to say, but Nicky paid no heed and shoved him next to Neil.

“I hate all of you,” Andrew mentioned conversationally, but he allowed Neil to position him in front of Kevin.

Nicky linked arms with Erik and Kevin in the back row. “Okay, we’re ready!” he said.

“Say ‘cheese’,” Joan said unenthusiastically.

“Are your cousins in the right spot?” Erik whispered to Nicky.

“Cheese,” the rest of the group chorused with varying degrees of energy.

The second Joan lowered the camera, their carefully organized group dissolved into chaos. Andrew broke for the car. Kevin’s phone rang and he wandered a few feet away to answer it. Neil went to thank Joan and get his camera back. Aaron damned all of them to hell and went after Andrew. And Nicky wrapped his arms around Erik’s neck and kissed him until they were both breathless.

When they didn’t come up for air or decency, Neil hastily escaped out the door. Andrew and Aaron were leaning against the car, talking quietly. Neil slowed down to watch them for a few moments. Aaron’s usual annoyed expression was gone, replaced by something almost warm as he spoke. Andrew’s own face was practically impassive except for a tiny tilt to his eyes that was a smile.

Neil thoughtlessly brought his camera back out and took a picture. The flash interrupted the moment, sending both men scowling at Neil, but Neil was hopeful that he had a physical record of that quiet moment.

“You’re going to blind someone with that,” Andrew said.

Neil made a face. “I like my camera,” he defended. “And you’re the one that gave it to me.”

“This entire last year was your fault,” Aaron told Andrew. “I’m going to get the rest of them before someone tries to arrest Nicky for lewd behavior. The last thing we need it to miss graduation because of a brawl at a bowling alley. Not even you could live that one down.” He pushed off the car and went back inside.

Neil took his spot next to Andrew. “Thanks for coming,” he said, and snapped a picture of Andrew watching him.

Andrew stole the camera and slid it into his pocket. “You’ve lost all photography privileges,” he said.

Neil grinned like a fiend. “I don’t take enough pictures of myself, do I?”

Andrew glowered.

Neil laughed. “It’s not like Kevin won’t figure it out when you start taking pictures with my camera.”

“Figure out what?” Kevin said, joining them by the car. He slung one arm around Neil’s shoulders. Neil obligingly leaned into him. His vow not to touch Neil hadn’t lasted very long. It wasn’t unexpected; Kevin lived too far away to waste what time they had together.

“He wants pictures of me,” Neil said, looking up at Kevin.

Kevin snorted. “I already knew that,” he said. “Why do you think he visited last month without you? He was -”

Andrew’s hand slapped over Kevin’s mouth.

Neil laughed again, muffling the sound in Kevin’s t-shirt so it wouldn’t attract attention from anyone else.

Andrew said, “My hatred for both of you grows by leaps and bounds every second I’m in your company.”

Neil smiled harder. “Can we ditch the rest of them?” he asked. “It’s not like there’s really enough room in the car for all of us. It’s a nice night. They could walk back to the dorms.”

“You can’t leave up behind! You love us,” Nicky said, Erik in tow.

Aaron looked at the group of them, and then at Andrew’s car. “Walking might be a better idea,” he said, memory of their ride from campus fresh in his dead eyes.

Kevin got in the front passenger seat without waiting for further debate. Neil followed him and crawled into his lap. Andrew looked at them like he was in pain, but it wasn’t much worse than being crammed into the bench in back with Erik, Nicky, and Aaron. Also, a chance to cuddle Kevin should never be passed up.

“Shouldn’t that be -” Erik sounded confused.

“Get in the car before I leave all of you behind,” Andrew said irritably, dropping into the driver’s seat.

The rest of them scrambled into the car.

Neil relaxed against Kevin. Kevin’s arms were wrapped loosely around his waist, and his heartbeat thudded steadily under his ear. Neil folded his own arms over Kevin’s. After they had pulled out of the parking lot, Andrew put his right hand on Neil’s knee while he drove.

“You know, Nicky, this really wasn’t that bad,” Neil admitted. He felt more relaxed than he had been all year.

“Shut up, Neil,” Kevin said.

“I knew it!” Nicky’s joyful whoop was too loud for the small vehicle. Aaron smacked him in the shoulder to show how much he appreciated his pained eardrums.

“No, seriously,” Neil squirmed around until he could see Nicky’s face. “We should do it again. It was fun.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Erik said. “I was a little nervous going out with all of you, but I am glad we did this.”

“I would rather have walked barefoot over hot coals,” Aaron said.

“Aaron liked it, too,” Neil translated.

Aaron said, “No, I didn’t,” but Neil didn’t believe a word of it.

“Next time we take two cars,” Andrew said, putting an end to all debate and discussion, and making Nicky shine brighter than he had all evening. It was quite the feat. “And next time,” Andrew added, looking at Nicky through the rearview mirror. “You’re going to explain using small words that Kevin is not dating Aaron.”

Aaron looked murderous.

Kevin said, “Is that what was going on?”

Neil snickered. “They’re drinking buddies, not fuck buddies.”

Nicky said, “What? No, of course Kevin isn’t dating Aaron, they’d kill each other inside a week.” He turned to face Erik. “Sweet Sugar Pea?”

“If Kevin isn’t dating Aaron, then who - oh. Oh!” Erik said, staring from Neil and Kevin to Andrew and back. “Congratulations!”

“You are all dead to me,” Andrew told them, and drove them home.

She walked, and then ran, down the dock and to the airlock. It took endless seconds for the seal to open, and for a moment she thought it would stay locked, but Miranda was as good as her word. The interface flashed green, and Kelly slipped back onto the Normandy.

In the week since she had been on board, everything had changed. Smooth bulkheads had been pulled out to reveal the guts of the ship, wires and cords were everywhere, and the door to the armory had been removed. It was dark, the only light was from the emergency runners, and Kelly activated her omnitool to keep from tripping over the clutter on her way to the elevator.

The main lights came on suddenly, and Kelly jumped. She whirled around furiously, looking for some sign of an Alliance tech or guard still at their post, but there was nothing.

"Hello, Kelly," EDI said. "What brings you back here? I thought you went to Illium with the majority of the crew."

"EDI!" Kelly gasped, putting one hand to her chest. "You startled me! Miranda said this place would be deserted, and I was scared --" she could not finish the sentence.

"We are alone," EDI said. "There was an unexpected fire safety drill. The Alliance crew was forced to head to prepared stations. Some of the more diligent technicians did not want to interrupt their work, but their coworkers dragged them off."

"It worked, then," Kelly said, and started walking again, headed to the CIC and the elevator. "Miranda said she could get me on board for a few minutes. I just need to grab something."

"Did you forget something, Yeoman?" EDI asked.

Kelly said, "Sort of," and stood in front of the elevator. Her hands were shaking, and her chest was still tight with adrenaline. The elevator door opened. Kelly swallowed.

"Kelly?" EDI asked. "Your pulse has increased by 150%, and your breathing has changed. Are you well?"

Kelly swallowed. "This is where it happened," she said. "I was trying to forget."

She stood for too long, staring at the open elevator and seeing Collectors, their grabbing hands and nasty insect faces.

"Kelly. Kelly, breathe to my count. One and in and two and out and three and in and four and out...."

Kelly gasped and tried to follow EDI’s pattern, forcing her lungs to work in and out. She was ... was she having a panic attack? Yes, this was a panic attack. Kelly dropped to the floor and put her head between her knees, trying to control something, anything, breath or heartbeat or the visions on the back of her eyelids.

"It wasn't this bad, before," she whispered, when she could talk again.

"Do you want me to call someone?" EDI asked.

"No," Kelly said, and pushed herself to her feet. She wrapped her arms around herself. There was no one to call, and she had a mission. "I just need to get up to Shepard's cabin, and then leave. It shouldn't take long."

How long had she spent panicking? Kelly forced herself to take the two steps into the elevator, but could not bring herself to check the countdown on her omnitool. She was still shaking.

"Did you leave something Shepard's cabin?" EDI asked, as the elevator hummed and Kelly felt it rising, moving. Kelly bit her lip hard and felt blood well up under her teeth.

"Just the fish," Kelly said. "I saw the news report. She won't be able to take care of them in prison. I told her I'd take care of them when she couldn't." The door opened to the top floor, not the shuttle deck. She could do this. Kelly took one step, and then another, and another, through the open door and into the cabin.

The cabin was dim and a little dusty, not yet touched by the Alliance crew. Shepard's model ships were still in the display case, the bed was still covered in a pale lavender blanket, and there were Shepard's dog tags in a frame on the desk. The fish were still floating in their tank. Kelly walked over to it, breathing a sigh of relief. "Hey, little guys," she said. She knelt down and pulled off her backpack. Inside the pack were small plastic traveling cases for the fish. Kelly dragged the desk chair over to the tank and stood on it so she could reach down into the tank and scoop fish and water into the traveling case.

Once the tank was empty of fish, Kelly stacked the traveling cases carefully in her backpack, and then turned to the bookshelves by the desk. The hamster cage was gone. "Where's Squeaker?" she asked EDI.

"Squeaker escaped when the security technician who was working on Shepard's computer dropped her cage," EDI said. "She's been running around the ship ever since. I do not mind, as long as she does not nibble on any wires."

There was no way Kelly had the time to track a tiny little space hamster all over the ship. "Okay," she said. "Then let's get out of here."

"You should leave via the shuttle deck," EDI said suddenly. "Some of the crew has started to return. I will make sure the shuttle deck is clear."

Kelly froze. She had not been back to the shuttle deck since the Omega-4 relay. "The shuttle deck?" she whispered.

"You must hurry, Yeoman," EDI urged.

Kelly's knees shook as she stood and put the backpack over her shoulders. "Okay," she said, trying and failing her keep her voice steady. "Let's go."

EDI guided her over to the maintenance tunnels instead of the elevator. Kelly crawled through the ship and tried not to bump into walls with her fish or fall off from nerves. Once, she had to stay huddled in the corner of the engineering room while EDI herded men away from her hatch. When she finally made it to the shuttle deck, she found herself in a dark corner, trying to get up the nerve to slip out and onto the dock while a man in Alliance blues crouched next to the shuttle, whistling while he worked on something inside the open door panel. Kelly took a deep breath, then another, then another. She could do this. She had to do this. She was so close, all she had to do was cross a few hundred feet of open space and she would be free.

When the Collector's put her in the stasis pod, she had been so grateful to get away from their hands that she had pressed herself into the pod and cried with relief when the pod closed. She had not fought it at all. Then all the lights had vanished and she could not feel anything except smooth surface around her and she had been terrified, all over again. She had shouted and begged and pleaded for someone, anyone, to let her out. To save her.

When the lights came back, she wished she had stayed stuck in the darkness. She still saw the colonists around her, dissolving into black slime. She still felt the horror and sickening realization that she would come to the same end. No one would come for her.

Kelly knew, in a vague, shadowy way, that she was curled up on the floor and crying. Most of her was back in the Collector pod, though, hopeless and helpless and completely alone.

"Hey, calm down. It's okay. Just breathe. Here, fell my heartbeat. Can you feel it? It's okay, you're safe, no one's going to hurt you. Its okay, you're okay. No one's hurting you."

Gradually, Kelly's vision cleared. Someone was holding her hand, pressing it to a broad chest, and she could feel a comforting and stable heartbeat. She gasped and tried to pace her breathing, in and out, in and out, in and out.

"Are you with me?" the man said.

Kelly shifted to get her knees under her, careful not to dislodge her hand. It felt like the only lifeline she had, a tether to reality.

"Sorry," she said, once she could speak without sobbing. "I'm sorry."

"It's no problem," the man said. He had bright blue eyes and he was smiling very gently down at her. "I'm Steve. Who are you?"

That's right. She was trespassing on Alliance Military property. Also, technically, she was stealing.

"Kelly," she said. "Kelly Chambers. I was part of Shepard's crew for -- for the colonies."

Steve's eyes widened. "The Collector Base?" he asked. "And the Omega-4 Relay?"

Kelly nodded.

Steve's heart stuttered under her fingers, and then sped up. Kelly took her hand away before her own heart could follow.

"Then I can guess why you're here," he said. "Rescuing the fish, were you?" He gestured at the backpack that was no longer on her back, but instead beside here with its fishy boxes stacked all around it.

Kelly flushed, and looked away. "Shepard loved those fish," she mumbled. "But sometimes she didn't have time to take care of them. I started doing it for her, when she was gone too long."

"I never thought of Shepard as a fish person," Steve said.

"She has a hamster, too," Kelly told him. "I couldn't find her, though."

"Really?" Steve looked interested. "Some of the guys have complained about chewed wires and small animal noises."

"Don't hurt her!" Kelly said.

"I don't think anyone will find her," Steve said. "There are a lot of places to hide, on this ship."

Kelly sighed in relief. "Good," she said. She looked at her knees. "What are you going to do, now that you've found me?"

She heard Steve shift around until he could sit next to her. "Do you know what happened to the colonists?" he asked, instead of answering her questions,

Kelly's breath froze in her throat. "I can't talk about it," she said. "I can't. I can't."

"Was it ...painful?" Steve sounded like he had been punched.

Kelly shook her head. "Please don't ask any questions," she begged.

"I'm sorry," Steve said. "It's just -- my husband was on Ferris Fields when ..." his own breath stuttered.

Kelly wiped fresh tears from her eyes, and swallowed back the rest of them. "It was bad," she finally said. "Shepard came as fast as she could. She was only hours behind us. I still have nightmares."

Steve's brow furrowed. "You were taken?"

"Collector's boarded the ship." Kelly recited the report she had sent to the Illusive Man. "Shepard was on the shuttle in another system. She came as soon as Joker told her what happened. She saved us."

Kelly had felt helpless and hopeless and so alone on the Collector Base, terrified and resigned to dying. Then Shepard had stormed in and rescued her, rescued all of them, and brought them all home. The least Kelly could do was rescue her fish.

Steve said, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

Kelly shrugged, but did not have the words to say it was alright, because it was not, or rebuke him, because Shepard had not managed to save his husband. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked, again.

Steve started putting the fish back in the bag. "I'll walk you out of here," he said. "We shouldn't have any trouble. Lots have guys have brought people around to show them this ship. I'll get you somewhere safe. Do you have somewhere you can go?"

Kelly nodded. "Yes," she said. "Thanks."

Steve handed her the backpack. "No problem," he said. "It's the least I can do."

Kelly followed him, and left the Normandy for the last time.

Shepard smoothed her hands over the blankets, and then tugged at the corners until they fell in a crisp line. She pushed the pillows so they were directly parallel the foot of the bed, twitched the corner of the flat sheet straighter, and then, satisfied, stood. Everything was ready.

"Alright," Shepard said. "I think it's time."

"Yes, Commander," EDI replied. "Will you head down to the Galaxy map to set our course?"

"In a moment," Shepard said. "I wanted to talk to you, first."

There was an almost imperceptible pause before EDI responded, "What can I do for you, Commander?"

"Nothing," Shepard said. "I just wanted to say it was an honor to serve on you, EDI. I know I was hesitant at first, but you've more than proven yourself. You're a good friend."

When she replied, EDI'S voice was warm. "Thank you, Commander. You have been an excellent captain."

Chaya smiled crookedly. "I had a good team," she said. "You all make it easy. Listen, EDI. I don't know if I'll ever be back on the Normandy. There will be a trial, Hackett's already told me that. People don't believe the Reapers are coming. They don't know why we did this. I don't know if I'll be able to fight this war that's coming." Shepard took a deep breath. "But Hackett and the Alliance would be fools not to see your value. They'll probably assign someone else to captain you."

"I understand," EDI said.

"Just give them some slack," Shepard said. "It might take them some time to figure things out and get comfortable. Try not to be too hasty if they have a hard time adjusting, ok?"

EDI said, "Of course, Shepard."

“But not too much slack,” Shepard cautioned. “Don’t let them get away with abusing you or the old girl.”

“I will make a note,” EDI said.

Shepard nodded. "Okay, then," she said, and saluted the little virtual interface in the corner. "Godspeed."

End 17.

Monday:

Blaine woke up a little before 7, with the sunshine brilliant in his face because they had forgotten to close the curtains. To avoid waking Sebastian, he got out of bed carefully, and then shut the curtains slowly. Sebastian murmured quietly in his sleep, and rolled into the warm spot Blaine had left behind. Blaine smiled down at him, tucked the blankets about him, and left a sticky note on the pillow asking for Sebastian to join Blaine for breakfast when he woke. Blaine pulled sweats on over his briefs and crept downstairs to the kitchen.

He brought the notepad with him. Yesterday they had spent an awful lot of time wandering around the kitchen, trying to find things, and today, he was going to fix that.

Breakfast was pancakes, sausage, and eggs, with toast and juice to round it out. Every time he opened a drawer or cabinet or door, he left a sheet of note paper attached to it, labeling what was inside.

Silverware

Baking supplies

Plates & Cups & Bowls

Blaine had just finished labeling the pots and pans when he saw Sebastian was standing by the island, evaluating his work.

"Getting a head start on exploring?" Sebastian asked. There was a platter with sausage and pancakes on the counter closest to the stove, so that Blaine could stack the pancakes as they came off the griddle. Though his tone was deliberately casual, Sebastian’s eyes were intent on the steaming sausages.

Blaine said, "There are only so many times I can look for the measuring cups before I start to go crazy. These will work until I've got the layout down." He put down his pen and paper, and moved back to the stove to check if his pancakes were ready to be flipped. None of them were, but the eggs were almost done, so he turned off the heat and let them settle.

Sebastian came into the room and pried his eyes off the links to look at the coffee maker. Blaine had not yet started the pot, though he had found beans while digging through the fridge for butter.

"No coffee?" Sebastian asked, sadness dripping from every word.

Blaine rolled his eyes and pointed to the fridge with a spatula. "Beans are in there, addict." He liked watching Sebastian, and so split his attention between the griddle and his friend. Sebastian wore yesterday’s jeans and nothing else, and the abs were still on display. Blaine smiled down into his batter.

Sebastian ignored his commentary, and went straight for the coffee beans. Once the percolator was dripping steadily, he turned back to Blaine. "Pancakes," he said, pleased. "And sausage. You're spoiling me." He stole a sausage off the platter and ate it quickly. He always had been a food thief.

Blaine flipped the pancake. "You came all the way out here just to keep me company," he said. "It's the least I can do.”

"I already got ice cream out of this trip," Sebastian mused. "Now pancakes. I may need to move in." Then he stopped speaking, and Blaine had to find his voice.

"Maybe we need to talk?" Blaine finally asked, setting a now cooked pancake on the platter. Sebastian could eat a lot, and so there were a lot of pancakes to be made. He poured more batter on the griddle.

Sebastian sighed, and leaned back against the island. "I don't see why," he said. "We didn't - I didn't let you go because I stopped loving you, B. We were just hurting each other, and ourselves, by what we were doing. It doesn't mean you aren't my best friend."

This was almost exactly what they had said 18 months ago, when they had spoken for the first time in 6 weeks, and only because Anita and Riley had rearranged half their schedules to give them half an hour. Blaine turned his back to the stove and looked at Sebastian, at his earnest eyes and messy hair, and saw the boy he had fallen in love with years ago. He wondered how much of that image was his own memory, and how much was really there.

"I don't want you to be afraid to say things around me," Blaine said, instead.

"Killer," Sebastian said, unmistakably fond. "We slept in the same bed last night. I'm pretty sure you wrapped around me like a limpet. The last thing we need to be worried about is being uncomfortable with each other."

This was probably true. Sebastian was often right, at least about these kinds of things. He saw straight through the emotion and ties that left Blaine reeling and unsure. It was something Blaine had always counted on. He could count on it, again.

"Well, then," Blaine said. "Breakfast is almost ready. Can you heat up the syrup and get us plates?”

Blaine was a good cook. They had learned together, after they had moved in, because Sebastian wanted to be able to give Blaine breakfast in bed, and Blaine could never tell him no. Sheila, Sebastian’s stepmother, had given them a handwritten book of secret family recipes the first Christmas after they moved in together, and Blaine loved that his cooking had that kind of history attached to it. Blaine had no idea who ended up with the cookbook; he would have to go through his library (if he could ever find the library) and give it back to Sebastian if it had ended up in one of his boxes.

That was the problem when someone else packed up your life and moved you somewhere else. You had no idea where anything ended up.

Blaine brought the platter over to the kitchen table, but Sebastian nodded toward the window.

“It looks gorgeous out,” Sebastian said. “Let’s eat on the patio. We can walk around the house and get some idea where your library is before we see how lost we can get.”

“We are not going to have that much trouble.” Blaine rolled his eyes as they moved out the French doors and onto the closest patio. There was a round metal table and two chairs just waiting for the two of them to sit down and eat at. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the house is mostly windows. How would we get lost?” It was brilliantly sunny and already warm. Sebastian put the plates and silverware and cups down, and found an umbrella to shade their table. Blaine brought out the syrup and juice while Sebastian set it up.

“You have a sunken 2nd floor living room,” Sebastian said, locking the umbrella into place.

Blaine pouted up at him. “How would you know? You’re just working off what I told you. I could be wrong.”

Sebastian laughed. “Dev, you are never wrong. Almost never wrong.”

That was not exactly true, but it also was not something Blaine felt he could argue without having it come up again and bite him in the ass. “Just eat,” he commanded, taking a seat. Sebastian laughed at him, but complied.

Sebastian took his food seriously, and Blaine was content to bask in his friend’s presence while they ate, so the two sat companionably and drank orange juice and devoured blueberry vanilla pancakes while the sun climbed higher in sky. The shadows shrank and faded while they dined.

There had been a lot of mornings like this one. Well, almost like this one. When they had been living in Sebastian’s house, they ate in the backyard by the pool, and Blaine would make Sebastian kiss him as payment for every pancake he devoured. That ended up being a lot of kisses, and a few hours upstairs in their room, or in the pool, or in the kitchen, bodies tangled and both of them laughing with how happy they were. Blaine had not missed it until this moment, because there had been no time for laughing sex and lazy mornings these past few years. It was an unexpected ache.

Blaine pulled himself away from his thoughts to see Sebastian watching him with knowing eyes.

“A little different than before,” Sebastian said.

Blaine nodded. “There are still leftovers,” he agreed. “We never had leftovers, before. Are you feeling alright?”

Sebastian threw a piece of sausage at him.

They finished the dishes and cleanup, and moved upstairs to get ready for the day. It was close to noon and it time for a shower and fresh clothes, since Blaine’s pajamas were covered in flour and batter. Sebastian followed him up two flights of stairs to the bedroom, and Blaine could feel him watching as Blaine knelt by the dresser to sort through clothes.

“I’m sure I have something you can change into,” Blaine explained.

“Just how did you know I didn’t pack a bag?” Sebastian asked, a frown audible in his voice.

Blaine giggled. “You haven’t changed that much,” he said, and crowed triumph at finding a too-big Dalton t-shirt at the bottom of the drawer. It read, ‘Class of 2014,’ in red letters on a navy background, and was soft with age. Now he needed jeans, or sweats, or shorts. He was confident he had a pair of 32x34s somewhere. It was just a matter of finding them.

“Are you telling me I’m predictable?” Sebastian asked, though he was thinking about something else. Possibly Blaine’s ass, because Sebastian did like to ogle, or maybe lunch, or whether there really was a sunken room on the 2nd floor.

“Only on days that end in Y,” Blaine lied, because Sebastian was the least predictable person he knew. Blaine had figured out Sebastian had forgotten a bag when the man had messed with the thermostat after breakfast, upping the temperature from 68 to 70. If he had a bag, Sebastian would have gone and grabbed a sweater out of it, not played with central air. That was not predictable, that was just knowing someone more than a decade.

“Liar,” Sebastian accused.

Blaine giggled, and spotted a promising pair of jeans. “I never lie,” he lied again, and pulled out the pants. He added a clean pair of boxers to the pile and walked over to Sebastian. He held out the clothing.

Though Sebastian had been teasing just a few moments before, his eyes were now dark with shadows, and his face was pensive.

“Heavy thoughts?” Blaine asked.

Sebastian blinked, and the shadows fell from his face while he refocused on Blaine. He took the clothes out of Blaine’s hands, and started to grin when he saw the t-shirt. “I was thinking about the tattoo,” Sebastian said. “And now I’m thinking about you in nothing but this shirt with the tattoo. Damn, Killer.”

Asshole, Blaine though fondly, feeling his skin flush with pleasure and embarrassment. He poked Sebastian hard in the shoulder and took a step back. “You! You need to go wash up. Stop making me blush and go.”

Sebastian snickered, looked as though he were about to say something further, thought better of it, and headed downstairs to the bath.

What had Sebastian been about to say?

If Sebastian had asked for company, would Blaine have joined him?

No, Blaine thought, though he was not sure at all. He did not look at what clothing he grabbed for himself, just headed into the free bath and thought about music and movies and anything but his ex-boyfriend singing in the shower down the hall:

Stay. And I'll be loving you for quite some time. No one else is going to love me, when I get mad, mad, mad. So I think that it's best if we both stay

They met up in Blaine’s bedroom, since it was on the top of the house, and there was quite obviously nothing else on the third floor. Blaine stood in the center of the room and watched Sebastian look around, taking in the emptiness and clean lines. He could tell Sebastian liked it from the smile that hovered on his lips and in his eyes.

“Lots of space,” said Sebastian, the dancer.

Blaine said, “It’s kind of empty of anything.” Aside from the bed, a couple bedside tables and dresser, and a small sitting area with couches and a low table, there was almost nothing in the room. There were no shelves or knickknacks to be found, no art on the walls or plants on the floor. That left a lot of wide open space and hardwood floors patterned by shadows from the overhead lights. The curtains were still covering the windows, and they sealed out any natural light.

Sebastian walked over to the light switch. “Dimmable lights, a place to sit, and a bed. What else do you want in your bedroom?” he asked, running his hands over the panel.

“A television?” Blaine suggested as Sebastian flicked the switch for the curtains. The room slowly flooded with sunshine and the sparkling blue of the ocean, and Sebastian’s face filled with wonder and awe at the sight.

“Holy shit, B,” Sebastian breathed. He took a few steps closer to one of the walls of window. “Who would need a television? This is amazing. This is why this room has nothing in it, this is, this is just….” He trailed off and gestured helplessly.

“It is gorgeous,” Blaine admitted, still looking at Sebastian. It had been a long time since he could just look at Sebastian, could watch the play of emotion on his face, his quick hands and mobile mouth. Sebastian put his big hand on a window. He would leave a mark behind, but Blaine was okay with that.

“This is a door,” Sebastian announced. “That balcony is usable.”

Blaine blinked back to attention, and followed Sebastian out the door and onto a small terrace. There was nothing there except for a staircase that led down the larger terrace one floor down, but there was enough space that Blaine could put out a table and chairs, or maybe a lounge. Sebastian went right up to the safety rail and looked around with wonder on his face. Blaine drew closer to Sebastian, putting an arm around his friend’s waist and feeling content perfectly at peace. Sebastian looked down at him and smiled.

“How the hell did you find this place?” Sebastian asked.

Blaine shrugged and said, “Riley,” and Sebastian took a step back from the rail so he could tug Blaine in front of him. Blaine let himself be moved. It was familiar and warm to have Sebastian pull Blaine against his chest and wrap his arms around Blaine. Blaine felt Sebastian kiss his temple and rest his cheek against Blaine’s curls. Blaine put his own arms over Sebastian’s, securing them together, and leaned back into his friend while they watched the water for a long, long time. There had been a time when this, standing with Sebastian, loving Sebastian, being loved by Sebastian, had been the norm. For the first time, Blaine thought that maybe breaking up had been a mistake, because the last two years of accolades and awards were nothing compared to the warmth of Sebastian’s arms around him.

“I’ve missed you,” Sebastian said, his voice rough and sudden in the peace of the moment. “I’ve missed you more than I thought possible, Blaine Devon.”

Blaine held tighter onto Sebastian. “Me, too,” he whispered, and felt Sebastian fold around him, curl his shoulders over Blaine, as though he could envelop Blaine entirely. He melted into the embrace and held on.

Eventually, they had to move. Blaine led the way back into the bedroom, and toward the staircase the led down to the second floor. He felt cold without Sebastian close, and so reached thoughtlessly for his friend’s hand. Sebastian’s fingers tangled with his and they walked together toward the far end of the second floor on Blaine’s house.

Handholding was ok. They had held hands before, when they were Devon and Sebastian, not BlaineandBas, and Sebastian was always holding onto Blaine. It was okay to not let go.

The second floor was filled with rooms and halls, and had sunny nooks here and there to bring light into the space. There was art in the hallway, but no knickknacks, and all the pieces were cool waterscapes, beaches, and ships at sea. Sebastian whistled low when he saw one of the reproductions.

“Nice painting,” he told Blaine. ”Turner is one of my favorites. My grandfather has an original in his collection.”

Blaine looked at the painting. “I know,” he said, and smiled. “You showed me, remember? I must have mentioned that to Riley half a dozen times, and he was so sick of hearing about you showing off for me. He probably told the decorator how much I liked it.” It was a lovely reproduction, with a ship at sea and the light around it looking like magic.

“I wasn’t showing off,” Sebastian said. “I was just –”

“Showing off,” Blaine teased, because Sebastian had been trying to impress Blaine with things, even though he had never needed to try to impress Blaine. It was probably a good thing Sebastian was not aware of how much he stunned Blaine every minute of every day. Sebastian would have teased him for weeks if he knew he could make Blaine breathless just walking across a room. Blaine squeezed Sebastian’s fingers, and Sebastian smiled at him.

Dazzled, Blaine looked away and down the long hall, and tried to decide where to start. Sebastian tugged him down the hallway before them.

“The house is longest this way,” Sebastian said. “Let’s start farthest away from the stairs.”

Blaine said, “Alright. I think we want to go here, then,” and they continued down the hall and around a corner to an arched opening that separated the last room in the house from the hall.

Through the arch was the library, and Blaine bounced in place. “Found the library!” he said, grinning.

“it wasn’t exactly hidden,” Sebastian pointed out.

Blaine stuck his tongue out at him and dropped Sebastian’s hand so he could explore. Sebastian wandered over to the windows and stared out at the water. Blaine hid a grin and looked around.

The library should have been on a corner, but one end was walled off so only one side of the room was covered in windows. The rest of the space was filled with books. The tall shelves overflowed with hardbacks and paperbacks. Blaine was fairly sure he had not owned this many books before he left for New York, and that the decorator must have done a lot of purchasing to fill the bookcases. There were a couple chairs spaced through the room, and a desk by one wall with a huge book of maps on it. Blaine was tempted to look for his own books, his comics collection, and Sebastian’s cookbook, but he noticed another archway on the far wall. It was where he would have expected another bank of windows to be, so he mentally mapped what he remembered of the first floor to where they stood. He smiled, and crossed the library.

Through the archway, and down four stairs, he found a sunken reading room. There were couches and chairs and a huge television with the latest consoles stored beneath. Here, the two walls of windows he had expected were covered by sheer curtains, which dimmed the afternoon light shining down over the plush carpet. It was a friendly, warm room, and Blaine had a feeling it would be perfect for rainy days when he would rather play video games than be productive. He looked around to tell Sebastian that, but his friend was still in the main library, distracted by the view.

“Sebastian!” Blaine called. “I found the sunken room!”

He heard the sound of Sebastian’s footsteps on the wooden library floor, and then the other man poked his head through the entrance.

“It is sunken,” Sebastian agree, and hopped down into the room. “You should have listened to me. I knew you were right all along.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “I think this part over the dining area downstairs,” he said. “I think the ceiling was different, there.”

“Makes sense,” Sebastian agreed, crossing the room to look at one of two racks of bookshelves in the room. “This would be your personal collection,” he said. “I didn’t see Goosebumps on any of the shelves in the main room.”

“I was wondering how long it would take me to find those,” Blaine said, coming to stand next to Sebastian and look at the shelves. “Not just my Goosebumps books. My Dalton yearbooks are in here, too.”

“Really?” Sebastian asked, and ran his fingers along the shelves until he found all four hardbound books. “I can’t believe you still have all these,” he said, and pulled them out. “Yearbooks are lame.”

“I distinctly remember signing yours,” Blaine said, while Sebastian flipped open the book.

Sebastian ignored the quip. “You were so little back then,” he said, looking at a particular picture of Blaine with the mathlete team. “And the glasses didn’t help. You look like you should still be in grammar school.”

“I was the same height as I am now,” Blaine said, pouting.

“Exactly!” Sebastian enthused, as though that proved his point, and leaned over and rested his chin on top of Blaine’s head. Blaine ticked his side, and Sebastian jerked back. “Hey!” Sebastian pouted. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Anderson.”

“I’m not the one with my hands full,” Blaine said, and tickled him again.

Sebastian sputtered and laughed and dropped the books, hunching protectively away from Blaine, while Blaine backed him up against the shelves until Sebastian fell giggling on the floor to try and escape. Blaine followed after him with quick fingers and his own laugh mingling with his friend’s. The other man tried to back away from Blaine, but Blaine threw an arm around Sebastian’s waist to tug the man back and gain enough leverage to sneak his fingers along Sebastian’s stomach.

“I’ll get you for this!” Sebastian gasped out amidst laughter, and flipped Blaine over his hip so Blaine was suddenly pinned by a much bigger body.

Blaine squeaked with surprise, and then Sebastian was getting his revenge, tickling mercilessly up and down Blaine’s stomach while Blaine shrieked and wriggled and begged for mercy, his own words barely intelligible from the force of his giggling.

Eventually, Sebastian took pity on him, and Blaine, sore and aching from mirth, rolled upright and poked his friend hard in the shoulder. “Jerk,” he muttered, though a smile still brightened his face.

Sebastian raised a brow. “You started it!” he accused, putting himself next to Blaine. “I was just looking at your yearbook. You decided to declare ware.”

Blaine said, “I thought I was always right?”

Sebastian dropped his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “Almost always,” he said.

They spent the hours tucked against each other and the yearbooks, with the sun eventually setting over the ocean, and paused only to heat up a frozen pizza when they realized they had missed dinner. After they finished with the yearbooks, Blaine dug out the scrapbooks he had made over the years and they talked about high school and graduating together and around what it had been like to be so young and in love.

Sebastian had not gone to Dalton until senior year, and his senior portrait was a publicity photo Sheila had sent the school because Sebastian had not been interested in the slightest in making sure there was photographic evidence of his time at the school. Blaine’s own picture had been swapped for a glamour shot, too, but that was because he had some enthusiastic fans in the year book club, and they had vetoed the Cary Grant-esque headshot. Blaine had rather liked the original picture, but his classmates had liked the red leather pants and loose black curls better. His actual senior portrait was in one of the scrapbooks, beside a candid shot of Sebastian bent over his guitar, eyes narrowed as he worked out the melody to a song.

They shared do-you-remembers about those pictures, and found show choir pictures toward the back of the book. Blaine rubbed his thumb over Sebastian smirking over his Regionals trophy.

“You were so smug that you got to join the Warblers,” Blaine said, smiling. Next to the regionals photo, there were candid shots of the 19 Warblers practicing, performing, and goofing off together. In one picture, Sebastian was slow dancing with Blaine. That was from the party after the Regionals win. Sebastian had dragged Blaine with him, whispering teases and bribes in his ear, promising so many things to get Blaine to suffer through hours of being alternatively glared at and schmoozed by Wes. Thad had stolen his camera and taken the picture while Blaine and Sebastian danced.

“I just enjoy working with nobodies and helping them reach their fullest potential,” Sebastian said smoothly. That line was from Anita. The word “nobodies” was from Sebastian.

Blaine giggled and poked Sebastian in the shoulder. “Don’t make me laugh!” he said. “It hurts.”

“Poor Devon,” Sebastian teased, and put his arm around Blaine in mock-sympathy. The heat of his body on Blaine’s pulled Blaine out of his play-sulk, and he reached out and flipped the page to distract himself from Sebastian’s long lines pressed against him.

“Prom!” Sebastian said. “I still cannot believe that I didn’t get asked to sing at prom. Dalton always did love you best.”

“You got to sing!” Blaine pointed out. “And you helped me come up with my setlist. Why are you complaining?”

“I’m not complaining,” Sebastian said with exaggerated patience. “But I bet Dalton is still telling stories about the year they booked Devon as the band.” Sebastian grinned. “Actually, even compared to the years of high school I spent partying, playing, and fucking, instead of going to an actual school, senior year is still my favorite.”

You were the best part of senior year, Blaine thought, because the rest of the time had been stressful, worry about Marina, worry about his career, worry about Sebastian. He said nothing. Sebastian glanced down at him then kissed his forehead in response to whatever he saw on Blaine’s face.

“The first semester was rough,” Sebastian said. “We ended on a high.”

Blaine nodded, but it was not true. The end had been lonely and bitter. Sebastian pulled him closer, and tugged at a curl. “You stopped smiling, B,” he said.

“I just – we were happy, then. I never imagined this,” and Blaine gestured at the room around them, but he meant everything in the last 10 years, “would happen. It’s so different than what I dreamed about in high school.”

“Really?” Sebastian looked surprised. “Opening a show on Broadway, a few more tours, a handful of albums, a New York Times bestselling book – what else did you imagine? Isn’t this everything?”

“I thought,” Blaine swallowed, and tried to look away from Sebastian’s curious eyes, but hiding had never been an option for them. Why did this hurt, now, two years later? He rubbed his hand over the tattoo on his side. “I thought I’d be married.” To you.

Sebastian’s eyes went soft and dark as he looked at Blaine. He said nothing, just cupped Blaine’s cheek in one hand, and Blaine recognized the tender light in Sebastian's eyes, was sure Sebastian recognized the look on his face. Sebastian’s lips parted slightly, and Blaine stared at their curve. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss Sebastian, to ask his best friend to ease the loneliness that had crept up on him yesterday, when he woke up in a huge empty house with no idea where anything was. Blaine let out a breath, and Sebastian slid his hands on Blaine's waist.

"What are we doing?" Blaine whispered, while Sebastian drew him against his body and Blaine wrapped his arms around Sebastian's neck. Sebastian fell backwards, and Blaine followed him down, pulled half onto his friend. There were new planes, new muscle, and Blaine had a flash of memory from the night before, when he had slept with his cheek pressed against freckled skin.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten," Sebastian said back, and it took Blaine a moment to realize Sebastian was answering his question. Blaine huffed a laugh and Sebastian's fingers tightened around him, and Blaine settled above Sebastian, propped up on his elbows and staring down into Sebastian’s green eyes.

Blaine should have replied, because this felt good and right, but their relationship was more important. He could put the brakes on what was going to be truly fantastic sex if it would mess things up between them. Really, he could, he thought, as he leaned in to kiss Sebastian.

His phone interrupted him.

It was the most obnoxious jingle ever created, and it broke the moment entirely. Blaine flailed and rolled off of Sebastian, horror filling his veins. Reluctant fingers found his phone, and the caller ID flashed merrily at him.

It was his brother.

"Fucking asshole," Sebastian spat as Blaine came to his knees, proving he knew exactly what had just happened.

Blaine answered the call with a little too much force. "What do you want, Cooper?" he demanded, in lieu of a kinder greeting.

Sebastian was already heading for the six-pack they had brought to the reading room to go with their pizza, which was the best thing he could do. Blaine stood up and walked across the room so he could glare out the window while Cooper babbled cheerfully in his ear.

"Hi Squirt! How's fame treating you? Have you had a chance to look over any of those scripts I sent you?"

Blaine took a steadying breath. "Cooper, its ten at night. I was in the middle of something. What do you want?"

Cooper paused on the phone, and that was the first sign that something was wrong. Cooper was never hesitant, never without words, and his ability to ignore what Blaine said and cheerfully continue talking about anything from the mold in his fridge to his newest big break was legendary. Blaine used to put the phone on speaker, get a bottle of vodka, and take a shot every time Cooper suggested Blaine set him up with an industry meeting. When Sebastian had found out, he had enthusiastically played along, until one night they got so drunk even Sebastian couldn't remember what happened. That had put an end to that game, just to keep them from alcohol poisoning.

"Do you think we could go get some dinner?" Cooper finally said.

Blaine blinked. "Cooper, it's late. You live on the other side of the city. By the time we get somewhere, it will be almost midnight."

"Right, right," Cooper said. "But you're a partier! The late hour means nothing to a star!"

"Cooper," Blaine groaned.

"Okay, how about breakfast?" Cooper asked brightly.

"I've got plans," Blaine lied. He would make plans. Maybe Sebastian would want to do something.

Maybe that was a bad idea, he thought, and shivered with the memory of Sebastian under him.

"Please, Squirt?" Cooper asked, calling him back to the conversation. Asked, not wheedled, whined, or demanded. Blaine felt himself start to weaken. He looked at Sebastian.

Sebastian handed him a beer, emphatically shaking his head. "Don't do it!" he whispered. "Whatever he wants, you’re better off saying no!"

"Blainers, it's important," Cooper said.

Blaine closed his eyes. "Stop calling me stupid nicknames," he said, "And I'll meet you for breakfast. Do you want me to send a driver?"

"No, I'll be fine," Cooper said. "I have a car."

"Okay," Blaine said. "I'll see you at The Columns at 9?"

Cooper hesitated again. "What about 9:30?" he asked.

Blaine swallowed his groan. "Yeah, okay. I'll make reservations. I'll see you tomorrow, Coop."

"Love you, Squirt."

"Cooper!" Blaine cried, but his brother had already hung up.

Blaine put his phone away, and drained his beer on one long draw. “Do we have more?” he asked, putting the bottle down on an end table.

Sebastian offered his own open bottle, but Blaine sighed and shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I won’t take yours. We’re doing breakfast.”

“So I heard,” Sebastian said. “Pushover. You should have told him ‘no.’”

“I know!” Blaine said. “But he was begging and – well, I haven’t seen Cooper in years.”

Sebastian snorted. “Yes, because he sold pictures of you on EBay because he needed money.”

Sebastian did not like Cooper. Most of the time, Blaine did not like Cooper. When Blaine had been 20, Cooper had gone to their family home in Westerville, collected pictures of Blaine recovering from multiple surgeries (his head shaved from when they had needed to get inside his skull, his entire right leg encased in a cast) and half a dozen original song drafts, and sold them for thousands of dollars. No matter how hard Blaine and Riley had tried, they had not recovered everything. Now, you could Google ‘Devon hospital’ and come up with image after image of vulnerable Blaine.

Cooper had not apologized, just said he had thought Blaine would not mind.

Maybe the intervening years had changed things. Things could be different, now. Sebastian had learned how to be a big brother to Marina. Perhaps Cooper had just taken longer.

“I know,” Blaine repeated. He bit his lip. “Come with me?” he asked.

Sebastian looked torn. “I can’t, B,” he said. “I’m picking Marina and her parents up at the airport tomorrow morning.”

Blaine let the thought of Marina, Sheila, and Gilbert in L.A. distract him from tomorrow’s meeting. “Marina’s coming here? Why? And why didn’t you say anything before I kept you out so late!”

“Relax, Killer, it’s barely 10,” Sebastian said, amused. “And we were busy.”

Busy was not quite the word Blaine would have picked. He found himself staring at Sebastian’s mouth again, and dragged his gaze up to his friend’s eyes. “I’ll have to stop in and see her,” Blaine said. “How long is she staying?”

“The summer,” Sebastian said, and looked a little panicked, and a little guilty. “I – her doctor’s thought she was cured a little over a year ago, and there was supposed to be a party, but I was too busy to come home, and she refused to have one without me. Sheila delayed it until now. It was supposed to be next week, since I was still supposed to be in Japan, but – well. Marina.”

Blaine was not sure what to say first, so he started with, “Getting what you want is a Smythe trait.”

“It makes it hard when two Smythes are on opposing sides,” Sebastian said, not even bothering to disagree, and they smiled at each other.

“Why didn’t you take a weekend and go?” Blaine asked. “I’m surprised; it was Marina asking.”

“I was busy,” Sebastian said, but his face closed up, and Blaine drew back, stung from being shut out.

“Oh,” was all Blaine said. He did not ask any of his other questions.

It was awkward for a moment before Sebastian sighed, reached out, and tugged Blaine into a hug. “I should probably head out, now,” Sebastian said. It took a moment for Blaine to let himself accept the hug, and the apology within it. He swallowed hard against the hurt, pushed it down deep, and hugged back.

“Fuck, Blaine,” Sebastian said, and squeezed him too tight. Blaine closed his eyes and let Sebastian hold him while they both buried the words they were not saying. Sebastian cleared his throat. “Sorry we didn’t get much done.”

“Don’t be,” Blaine said, stepping away from him.

“I’ll bring Marina over in a couple days. You can tell me about Cooper, and Marina will possibly want to kill you for not visiting, and also invite you to the party.” Sebastian looked as though he was keeping from saying something further, and it opened up another wound in Blaine. When had Sebastian stopped telling Blaine everything?

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Blaine said.

Maybe at the same time Blaine had stopped asking for everything.

One Show Only (No Encore) 16: Ken and Gabby

"You can't talk us out of it, Commander," Ken said. "We've decided. We're going to Arcturus with you."

"You have got to be kidding me," Shepard said, pausing on the threshold of Engineering. "Why aren't you two on Illium with the rest of the crew? Is this a joke? Didn't I watch you leave?"

"No joke, Commander," Gabby said. "Ken and I have been talking. The rest of the crew might not have been Alliance, but we were."

Shepard groaned, and rubbed her temples. "Is this what mutiny feels like?" she wondered, coming all the way into the room to stand directly in front of the two engineers. "Daniels ... Donnelly ... if you do this, I can't guarantee anything. I'm probably going to be locked up, and won't be able to help you."

She could not even ask Anderson or Hackett to interfere for her remaining crew. They were already doing everything they could to keep her from being tossed in a dark hole and forgotten about. How could she ask for more favors, after what she had done to Alpha Relay?

"We know," Gabby and Ken chorused.

"Maybe we don't like the rules," Gabby said, glancing briefly at Ken, and then staring Shepard directly in the eyes. "But that doesn't mean we should just ignore them."

"Aye," Ken agreed. "We made this bed. We don't get to run away, just because we shit the sheets."

That was - what? Chaya raised an eyebrow. "Uh huh," she said dryly. "And if I made it an order?"

Ken and Gabby shared another glance.

"We can't follow that order," Gabby said. "Alliance soldiers have a responsibility to ignore unethical orders."

"That's right," Ken said. "It seems you’re stuck with us, ma'am."

Chaya sighed. "Well, come on up for our last supper, then," she said. "But hurry. If we wait much longer, Joker will eat all the steak."

End 16.

One Show Only (No Encore) 15: Karin

"It's sad to see the ship so empty," Dr. Chawkas said, pouring herself a fresh cup of coffee. "Was it like this when - well, I suppose it might have been."

Shepard blew gently on her tea before replying, using the pause to try and navigate between acknowledging the horror that the Doctor had gone through and respecting her wishes - indeed, the wishes of the entire crew - not to discuss her kidnapping. "It's less obvious," she replied. "I can almost forget everyone's gone when I'm in here, or up in my cabin. But yesterday I found an old document from one of my thesis drafts that I wanted to talk to Legion about, and I walked straight into AI Core room before I realized Legion wasn't there. And it's crazy to think Garrus isn't spending hours calibrating that damn canon."

The Doctor laughed. “He did spend an awful lot of time with that gun," she said. "But took out that awful ship. He kept the Collectors from taking any more lives. I suppose all the calibrations were worth it, just for that."

Chaya sipped her tea. "I'll never tell him that," she said wryly. "He'd move back in there and I'd never get him out." Her eyes met Chakwas' across the table. "I wonder what he'll do to pass the time on the Citadel. I don't think the station has any giant guns for him. At least, not any he can legally get his hands on."

Chakwas stirred some sugar into her coffee, and hummed in amusement. "I doubt that will stop him. Garrus is very resourceful."

"That he is," Shepard agreed, taking a longer sip now that she would not burn her tongue. "All of them were. The best in the galaxy."

"And you sent them all away," the Doctor said. "We might need them, you know."

"I know," Shepard said, and put her mug down on the table so she could fold her hands together. "And they’ll be there. It will need all of you. Are you sure I can't talk you out of this, Doctor?"

Doctor Chakwas laughed. "I did wonder why you brought me the last of the good coffee," she said. "It was a bribe! No, Commander, you cannot. Like you, I will not regret or deny my actions. I will not run. I cannot change the Alliance, or what they will do to us, but I can live without regrets. I will accompany you to Arcturus. After that ... well, only the dead can know for sure."

Shepard sighed, and then smiled. "I suppose I can't deny you what you feel is your duty," she said. "Very well. It's been an honor, Doctor. Let's hope it's not the last one."

End 15.

Sequel alert! This can probably not be read without having first read Love Story. I mean, you can try, but you might be confused. Will probably be confused.

So a long time ago, my beta demanded to know whether or not Marina died in Love Story, since it was a bit ambiguous. Instead of actually answering her, I stared working on a short tag taking place 10 years later for her. Two and a half years, and 20k+ later, this is the result.

For @boldmistakes, I bet you thought I'd forgotten about this.

And before I forget .... title shamelessly stolen from Taylor Swift. All of Sebastian's songs are stolen from Taylor Swift and tweaked. Anything of Blaine's music belong's to Darren Criss.

Day 01: Sunday

After two years away from home, Blaine Anderson did not even remember walking into his house and falling into bed that first night back. Instead, he woke up bleary-eyed and confused the next day, wondering why his alarm had not gone off, and still in the jeans and cardigan he had traveled in. He blinked at the pillows that were smushed against his face, then managed to flip over to stare up at the ceiling. It was white.

"I don't think I got enough sleep," Blaine said aloud, wincing at the rough and ragged sound of his own voice. He groped around until he knocked his phone off the bed and onto the ground, and held in the whine of despair.

When he finally managed to get his phone back from the hardwood floor, he discovered it was mid afternoon on Sunday. He had been asleep for 17 hours. There were also 18 texts and 2 voice mails. Blaine placed his phone on the nightstand without looking at them. He did not have to look at them. After two years of running around like a maniac, he was going to enjoy lying in bed, staring at the (white) ceiling, with nothing to do.

Three minutes into his lie-about, his stomach rumbled. Blaine scrunched up his nose. When it rumbled again, he sighed, crawled out of the down comforter and Egyptian cotton sheets, and made his way into the rest of the house to start the day.

The bedroom he had crashed when he got in from the airport last night was huge, twice as big as the apartment he had rented in New York. Blaine opened up the blackout curtains with a small control panel helpfully labeled 'curtains' and the room was flooded with light from the midafternoon sun. There were a lot of windows, and through them the ocean sprawled out and glittered in the sunshine. He liked it, liked the panoramic view of the coast on three sides, and that he could turn in any direction and look outside. It did mean he had to go down a flight of stairs to wash up and brush his teeth; the entire top floor was an open bedroom and sitting area.

The first floor had another sunny, open floor plan, with tall windows and more white. Blaine wasn't particularly fond of the color, but it did contribute to general air of wholesome cleanliness in the house. Even the kitchen had a full wall of windows and opened up to a patio.

Though he had owned the place for over a year, Blaine had never stepped foot in the house. He had bought it based on pictures and the recommendation of some friends after he had moved out of Sebastian's place. He had been in New York, then, and did not have time to return to L.A. to go house hunting. Riley had organized the move, a decorator, and taken care of the details, while Blaine worked 20 hour days onstage and in the recording studio. If Blaine had been here for all that, he probably would have used lots of overstuffed cushions and warm colors, but that might have been a mistake. The entire house reminded him of fresh cotton sheets and summer.

Sebastian would like it, Blaine thought.

There were groceries in the cupboard. Riley must have stocked the kitchen, knowing he would be coming back home. He made himself breakfast on the stove, managed not to burn the French toast, and kept from overcooking his eggs. When he was done eating, he left the dishes in the sink to soak. Then he walked outside and looked around his property: at the beach that surrounded the place, at the patios and outdoor entertainment areas, at the sunset over the water. It was good that this little peninsula was so far from any neighbors or road, because his bedroom was clearly visible from here.

Blaine went back into his house up into the bedroom so he could unpack, but his phone was ringing, and he answered that, instead.

"Hey Riley," Blaine greeted. "I just got up. It's gorgeous here."

"It is," Riley said back. "It makes me wish Meggie didn't want to live so close to the city center. Do you have everything you need, Kiddo? How are you doing?"

Blaine laughed. "I'm not 15," he told Riley. "I don't need to be checked up on and entertained every minute. I'm good. I had dinner, and walked around. I was just going to put some stuff away and then have ice cream."

"28, 15, I'll always worry about you," Riley dismissed his claims. "If you need anything, you give me a call. It's no trouble."

"I'll be fine," Blaine said. "I'll call you in a few days, after I get settled in. Enjoy your night, Riley."

"Goodnight, Devon," Riley said, voice bright with cheer, and hung up.

Blaine slid his phone into the pocket of his jeans, and started putting away his luggage. There was not a lot; he had left most of his things in L.A. when he went to New York, and the majority of the stuff he had accumulated while there had been shipped back and already put away by someone. All that was left were from his carry-on: a few changes of clothes, his tablet, a couple books of poetry. He found Sebastian's picture wrapped safely in a hoodie, and set it up on his bedside table.

It was a little weird, he finally admitted to himself, to be living in a place without Sebastian. His time in New York had been a job, and he had only gone to the apartment to sleep. The rest of his days had been running around crazy, recording, writing, practicing, performing. Broadway was amazing, and it had been nothing short of a dream come true to open a musical, but it had cost him any semblance of a personal life. He had barely noticed Sebastian's absence. Now that he was planning on slowing down, he already felt off.

Blaine thought that Sebastian was in Tokyo, though he might have been wrong. They did not keep in contact very well. Between Sebastian filming two movies and having a world tour in the last 2 years, and Blaine's own schedule, they had not even spoken since the breakup. It was not because of hurt feelings. Probably was not because of hurt feelings. Blaine had not had time to cry, and he was not sure he would have if he did. The breakup had been for the best. Trying to juggle them with their individual careers had been impossible. Once they had realized the toll it was taking on them, it had been easier to let each other go than to let their love get poisoned by distance, missed phone calls, and failed expectations.

Which was why Blaine had this gorgeous new house on the coast, filled with sunshine and warmth, and a successful run on Broadway, 6 of the top 10 songs in America, and an LP that had already broken his previous records in sales. It had been the right move.

"Maybe I'll give you a call when you're back in town," Blaine told the picture. Sebastian was laughing in the frame, his eyes barely visible and his face shining with joy. That had been a good day. "Maybe we can get dinner, or just hang out."

He finished putting away his clothes, dropping yesterday's crumpled cast offs into the hamper, and arranged his accessories on the dresser. He kicked the now-empty bags behind a sofa, and considered the cleaning done. It was time for ice cream.

Ice cream would have been a lot easier to eat if he had an ice cream scoop. Blaine woefully surveyed his cutlery. He had found the spoons, knives, and forks. He had found the butter dish, the cheese grater, and the baster. He had even found candles for a birthday cake. The ice cream scoop was nowhere.

Blaine had his phone out and was calling before he even knew what was happening. "Do you know if you still have my ice cream scoop?"

There was a startled silence on the phone. Then Sebastian said. "I don't know. Let me check?"

Blaine closed his eyes. "Gosh, sorry Bas, I called without thinking. How's Tokyo? I was just going to celebrate the new house with ice cream and -"

"Slow down, Killer," Sebastian interrupted, voice warming. "You're back in L.A.? Welcome home."

Blaine relaxed once Sebastian started speaking, and sat down at the island. "I just got in yesterday," he confirmed. "I woke up a couple hours ago. When do you come in?"

It was weird that he had caught Sebastian. He had become so used to getting the other man's voicemail; it felt like a luxury to have a conversation.

"I'm back already, actually. I came back last week." There was a shuffling, clattering sound from the phone. "I don't know if I have yourice cream scoop, but I have an ice cream scoop."

"I thought you came back next week?" Blaine asked. "Did you wrap early?"

"Yep," Sebastian said. "Which is shocking, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm still terrified that I'll get another phone call, asking me to come back."

Blaine giggled. "I know the feeling," he confessed. "I've been avoiding of going through my messages. I'm so sick of running around."

"Yeah," Sebastian said, softer. "Yeah, me too. Listen, how about I come over with the ice cream scoop? You can tell me if it's yours, and I'll bring some champagne. We can celebrate in style."

That sounded - "Wonderful," Blaine said. "That would be wonderful. Do you know where I am?"

Another sound, this time of rustling papers and the distinct thud of a shin on the crossbar of the table - Blaine had bruised his shin an awful lot on that table, when he had lived there - and a muffled curse precluded Sebastian's affirmative. "Yeah, I've got it. I'll be there in about a half hour."

"Drive safe," Blaine instructed.

"Put the ice cream back in the freezer before it melts," Sebastian returned.

Blaine laughed out loud as he hung up, and, because Sebastian was right about the ice cream, returned the carton to the freezer before it melted all over the counter.

It took Sebastian almost an hour to get arrive, because, as he put it, "You live in the middle of nowhere, Killer."

Blaine grinned up at him, and pulled the other man down into a hug. "It's nice and quiet," he informed his friend, squeezing tight. He could feel Sebastian relax into his arms, and it was good to know that this had not changed. They were still Blaine and Sebastian, Devon and Sebastian. He kissed Sebastian's cheek, and stepped back. "The hope is that no one else will be able to find the place, either. I took a car from the airport yesterday, and the driver took three wrong turns." He took the bottle of champagne from Sebastian, and the ice cream scoop, and walked into the kitchen to set them down. "You look good, Bas."

Sebastian was a little more buff than he remembered, with blond streaks in his hair and a brown leather jacket. He followed after Blaine and shrugged. "Now that filming is done, I can go back to normal exercise and diet. I've been indulging. Anita's going to kill me when she finds out I haven't been to the gym all week."

Blaine giggled. "You can't tell," he assured the man. "Will you get me the ice cream? Since you took the trouble to bring the scoop, I feel immediate ice cream is needed."

Sebastian took the carton from the freezer, and grabbed up the scoop. "Sit down, relax," he advised. "I'll serve. You must be exhausted. When did you get in?"

Blaine took a seat at the island and rested his chin on a fist he propped on the counter. "Yesterday morning," he admitted. "I slept until this afternoon, and I'm still tired. I think I may have overreached myself. I might be too old to do this anymore." 'This' was his work, his side projects, his relentless need to always be working harder. He knew Sebastian knew what he meant.

"You still have the ass of an 18 year old," Sebastian promised, and Blaine laughed again.

It took going through every single cabinet Blaine owned for Sebastian to find the bowls, and Blaine watched with interest. He had already forgotten where they were stored, which he told Sebastian when his friend asked why he was smirking instead of being useful.

"I don't smirk!" Blaine said, indignant. "You smirk. And I just moved here. I have no idea where anything is. There are supposedly three more bedrooms, a library, a music room, and another two bathrooms I haven't found." At Sebastian's raised brow, Blaine defended himself. "I found the library outside. It's in that corner of the house. I just have no idea how to get there."

Sebastian snickered, and crowed triumph as he plunked to bowls down on the counter. "Success," he said. "What is it with your and twisty old buildings you can't find anything in?"

"This place isn't old!" Blaine said. "And there are more windows than walls. It's just going to take some getting used to the layout. I think there's a sunken room on the second floor, and I'm not sure how that's possible." He took the bowl Sebastian offered him, and ate some ice cream.

Sebastian smiled down into the carton of ice cream as he filled the second bowl. "Crazy architecture follows you around," he said. "Tell you what. We'll eat this, get drunk, and then tomorrow we'll figure out what's the deal with your house. Maybe it's haunted."

"My house," Blaine said, eyes narrowed, "is not haunted."

Sebastian put away the ice cream and joined him at the counter with his own bowl. "I bet in the morning we won't be able to find our car keys."

Blaine gestured threateningly at Sebastian with his spoon. "My house," he repeated, "is not haunted."

Sebastian laughed again, and poured the champagne.

A few drinks and a bowl full of ice cream later, Blaine was ready to call it a night. He was drooping over his ice cream, and his eyelids felt like lead. Maybe something heavier. Black holes were really heavy, right?

"Hey there, Killer, let me take that before you end up covered in chocolate," Sebastian said, quiet and sweet while he took away the used bowl and glass.

Blaine watched him, belatedly realizing his first guest was the one doing all the hosting. Then he decided to ignore it, because it was Sebastian. Sebastian was never a guest.

"You aren't my guest," he told the other man, while Sebastian washed the dishes and left them to dry in the rack.

Sebastian looked amused. "Nope," he agreed. "I think you're stuck with me. Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Are you spending the night?" Blaine asked, letting Sebastian help him up and leaning most of his weight against him.

"We have exploring to do tomorrow, right?" Sebastian asked.

Blaine turned into Sebastian's embrace, nodding his agreement against his friend's collarbone, and breathed in the scents of spice and champagne. He tucked himself into Sebastian's arms, and Sebastian cradled him close.

"Is your bedroom at the top of this glass monstrosity?" Sebastian asked.

"Stairs are that way," Blaine said, gesturing vaguely beyond the kitchen, and sighed and cuddled close when Sebastian swept Blaine up into his arms. "This got easier for you. You have been working out."

Sebastian laughed and kissed his forehead. "Are you telling me I struggled to pick you up before? You're about as big as my thumb, Killer."

"Liar," Blaine said. Sebastian took them up the stairs and into the bedroom. Blaine felt safe, and warm, and let himself drift until Sebastian put him on the bed. Then he rolled over, kicked off his shoes and started to fiddle with his jeans.

"Sexy," Sebastian said, but he was toeing off his own shoes and not watching. Blaine knew that. His lips quirked in a smile anyway.

"Are you sleeping here?" Blaine asked. Before they had dated, they had slept in the same bed, and they had shared a bedroom while they were together, but this was a new situation. Things felt like normal, like they were still themselves (Devastation, he thought to himself), but it had been years. They could not just go back.

"Do you have any idea where your clean sheets are?" Sebastian asked, folding his jeans over the back of a chair. He stripped off his shirt and, wow, he had been working out. Sebastian had always been active, but those abs looked sculpted.

Suddenly mute, Blaine shook his head. He kept his own t-shirt on.

Sebastian slid into bed next to him, and got the blankets around them. "Then yes, I'm sleeping here," Sebastian said, and rolled over and went to sleep.

He was not really asleep, of course, but Sebastian liked to put all his energy into everything he did, and that included sleeping. Blaine smiled at his back, and curled closer until he was spooning his friend.

It was the best night's sleep he had in ages.

One Show Only (No Encore) 14: Garrus

Shepard was used to nightmares.

She would be back on Akuze, standing in a dustbowl, the sky an arc of silver overhead. Old friends would be around her: Hedges, Lopez, Wollner, Asadurian. The captain would be standing by the distress beacon that had called them to the planet, the new tech guy as well. Asadurian would say: "There's no fucking sign of anything on this -" and then the ground would explode into acid, shrapnel, and meat.

In her dreams, Shepard would die a thousand times to Thresher Maw acid, dissolving armor and flesh with equal speed, or blunt trauma, her guts mashed when she was thrown into the rocky cliffs surrounding the plain, or blood loss, when she lost her right arm to a Hedges' panicked shotgun blasts. Shepard would wake up to a mouth full of blood. Back on Akuze, she had bit her tongue clean through to keep from screaming in fear and giving away her position. She tried to do the same thing while she dreamed.

She never dreamed of what really happened. Lopez was the one who lost an arm, Asadurian dissolved in acid, and Wollner hit the cliffs and never got up. Shepard cannibalized medigel from their corpses, broke their fingers to take their guns, and killed 3 Thresher Maws to survive. She never dreamed of surviving.

After the first Normandy died around her, Shepard stopped dreaming of Akuze. Instead, she dreamed of fire. She did not remember her death, but her mind liked to play tricks. While she slept, she felt to skin melt with her armor and fire rained down around her. She burned. She would wake up gasping and clawing her throat, struggling to breathe. Sometimes, she would dream that she was on the floor of the CIC, unable to move from a broken neck and drowning as blood pooled in her lungs. Other times, she floated in the wreckage, pierced all the way through by the shattered bulkheads. Often, she was drifting in space, unable to breathe while the stars went out around her.

After she blew up the Collector base, Shepard figured she would start dreaming of that, instead. She prepared for nightmares of dissolving in a stasis pod and or being carried away by swarms of Seekers. Perhaps she would slide helplessly off the side of a bucking Collector platform, reaching uselessly for Miranda's hand, or she might burn up in the ventilation system, begging for the valves to be opened. She would run and run and dive for the Normandy and miss, her fingers splayed to catch a hand that was not there, and then she would fall.

She was wrong.

Chaya threw herself out of bed, her sight full of blood and her head filled with screams and her heart pounding so fast in her chest she was dizzy. A part of her recognized she was standing beside her own bed, saw her own glowing clock, her models on display, but most of her was still on the Collector base, holding bodies together and begging them to stop bleeding and get up. Her eyes were bleary and bloodshot and all she could see was blue blood coating her like someone had dumped a bucked of paint over her. She heard gunfire.

"-pard! Shepard! Chaya!"

Her head snapped back and forth twice, and then Shepard stiffened. Her eyes focused, and she stepped back. "Garrus?" she said, her voice sounding like she had swallowed broken glass.

Garrus had also left the bed, and now stood on front of her. He stooped to see her better, his eyes brilliant with concern, and his mandibles clicking nervously. "Hey," he said gently. "You with me?"

Chaya rubbed one hand over her face, clearing sleep out of her eyes. She cleared her throat, but her voice was still rough when she said, "Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." She dropped back down onto the edge of the bed, and pushed her hair out of her face. "Sorry," she repeated.

After a careful, scrutinizing glance, Garrus sat down next to her. "Must have been quite the dream," he said, half joking and half worried. "You were screaming my name."

"That explains the sore throat," Shepard muttered. "That makes sense," she said, a little louder. "It was a nightmare and you ... you were there."

Garrus's mandibles flared, and he reached out for a moment, as though to comfort or hold her hand, and then snatched his hand back. It made Chaya smile, just a little, that even after she freaked him out and woke him up in the middle of the night, he still was so worried about intimacy between them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Garrus asked.

Shepard shook her head. "No," she said. "Don't worry about it. I just ... get nightmares."

Garrus made a small, soft sound in the back of his throat. "Okay," he said dubiously, and promptly pushed. "Am I usually a feature of blood-curdling terror when you sleep? Because -- you sounded pretty scared, Shepard."

Shepard closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his shoulder. "Not usually," she said slowly. "There aren't -- people don't -- it's usually just --" she stumbled and stuttered, and this was why she had wanted to say nothing. How could she say anything?

"Shepard," Garrus said, and put an arm around her, talons resting protectively over her shoulder blade.

"I'm usually the one dying," Chaya finally blurted. She looked up at him. "Sometimes on Akuze. Sometimes on the Normandy. It's always been ... me."

Garrus did the Turian versian of gaping speechlessness: flaring mandibles, dilating irises, silence. Shepard sighed and shuffled forward, relaxing against him and drawing comfort from the live press of his body on hers. He put his other arm around her, too, hugging her close.

"It's always been me," Shepard repeated.

"And this time, it was ... me?" Garrus said.

Shepard nodded. "I'm sorry I woke you," she said.

"Well, I'm not," Garrus said. "So you can see that I'm here, I'm okay ... I'm still alive, Shepard. Right here with you, all the way. And I'll be here, as long as you'll let me."

He would be, Shepard knew, which was why she had to be the one to send him away. People usually walked out or died, but Garrus was loyal to the end. "No one I'd rather walk into hell with," she said, instead. They could talk about it in the morning. Tonight, she'd hold him tight, and try to forget the terrifying vision of him dying in her arms.

End 14.

Next Time:   The Doctor laughed. "He did spend an awful lot of time with that gun," she said. "But it did take out that awful ship. He kept the Collectors from taking any more lives. I suppose all the calibrations were worth it, just for that."

One Show Only (No Encore) 13: Legion

"Middle of Nowhere, Perseus Veil. Well, we're here," Shepard announced, rather pointlessly, to her crew. They made small sounds to show they had been listening, because they were used to her, but no one actually looked up. Shepard glanced around. "Is there anything coming up on the scanners?" she asked.

"Nothing," Hadley said. "All is quiet."

"Okay," Shepard said. "Maybe we're early. Edi, where's Legion?"

"Legion is on its way to see you," Edi said. "The elevator should open ... now."

Shepard turned around on the CIC to see the elevators obligingly open, and Legion step out.

"Shepard-Commander," Legion said. "We have arrived."

"Yes," Shepard said. "But no one is here. I think we have some time to kill."

Legion tilted its head in a familiar way, one it had copied from her, to indicate puzzlement/contemplation. "Noted. Geth should be here within two standard hours. There was a delay."

"Huh," Shepard said, and stepped down. "Well, I'm sure we can figure out something to do, while we wait."

'Something' turned out to be videogames in Shepard's quarters, her model ship collection hidden behind the screen, both of them sitting on her bed. Legion was winning, but they were partying, so that was all right.

And it really was Legion who was winning. The Geth was playing using a healer-support character and still had a higher kill count than Shepard's melee Hanar.

"How do people not hate your guts?" Shepard asked, after they took out a level 13 boss with level 5 characters.

"This platform has no 'guts,'" Legion informed her.

"I'm pretty sure you do that on purpose," Shepard grunted, and dodged to avoid a lurking Krogan Battlemaster’s charge.

"Shepard-Commander," Legion said, "If you activate carnage and incinerate simultaneously, you will place an incendiary explosive inside the Krogan's mouth. There is a 95.383% chance this will kill the Battlemaster."

Shepard, cursing and trying to dodge (again) did as suggested. The Battlemaster exploded, covering her hanar with gore. "You are really very good at this game," Shepard said. “Exactly how much time have you logged?”

"Thank you, Shepard-Commander," Legion said. “This platform is capable of performing multiple tasks at the same time.”

Shepard translated that as, ‘sometimes we get bored,’ and grinned. “I see,” she drawled.

Legion’s eye flaps fluttered. "Geth have arrived. We should exit and go down to the airlock."

“Is this another ‘no data available’ topic?” Shepard asked. Legion unfolded from its crouch beside her, but Edi spoke before it could say anything.

"Shepard, Legion is correct. A Geth fighter just turned up on our sensors," Edi announced. "Estimated time to docking is 5.34 minutes."

"Thanks, Edi," Shepard said, and closed out the game. "Alright, Legion, you’re off the hook. Are you looking forward to going home?"

"That would imply feelings Geth do not have," Legion told her. "Our time on the Normandy has been beneficial. This platform accomplished much while on the Normandy. We ... thank you ... for your acceptance, perspective, and knowledge."

That was probably the closest Legion could come to saying it was going to miss Organics. "You're help was invaluable," Shepard said. "And you taught me a lot. Thank, Legion. I'll miss having you around."

Shepard stood and stretched, while Legion turned to her. "Shepard-Commander," it said, once she had settled. "This platform has analyzed Human farewell rituals. May we give you a hug?" The little metal brow pieces did that puppy-dog-eye thing, the one that had convinced Shepard to add it to her crew.

Shepard said, "Sure," and gingerly hugged Legion. Legion was hard and had no idea how to hug, but it put its arms around her shoulders and held on for precisely 10.231 seconds. Then, it let her go, and saluted.

"Shepard-Commander, it is time," it said.

"Yeah," Shepard said, her throat tightening unexpectedly. "Come on, let's go."

End 13.

One Show Only (No Encore) 12: Mordin

"Omega never changes," Shepard noted, as she entered the filthy space station alongside Mordin. "I always forget how bad it smells."

Mordin said, "Lots of people, lots of odors. Low gross income rates mean low filtration quality, poor waste management, frequent salvage. Also, think Aria pumps fetid air through docks. Gets rid of certain classes of people. Efficient."

"That does sound like Aria," Shepard said, stepping over a rotting ... something. "I almost feel bad leaving you here."

"Normandy filtration much better," Mordin agreed. "Likeliness of ending up in Alliance jail outweighs poor sanitation, however.”

“I don’t know,” Chaya said, wrinkling her nose, “At least the Alliance jail will be cleaner.”

Mordin chuckled. “Good that you came this far. Time of parting. Things to say. Thank you for helping. Saved Daniel, helped with student. Helped me. True friend, Shepard."

Shepard smiled, and held out her hand. Mordin shook it gently. Shepard said, "You did just as much for me, Mordin. I couldn't have fought the Collector's without you. I know we had our differences, but I consider you my friend, as well."

Mordin nodded sharply. "Excellent!" he said. "Now, heading toward clinic. Got to check Daniel, patients. Might need to reinforce territory. Jack and Zaeed offered help."

"They told me," Shepard said. "They seem pretty excited about it."

"Yes," Mordin agreed. "Thrive on adrenaline. Gang fights satisfy need for violence, also need to do good. Second part because of you," he added, nodding seriously. "Bring out better person. Very interesting to watch. Hope effect lasts."

"Uh, thanks," Shepard said, and promptly changed the subject. "But anyway, before you go, I have something for you." She unclipped the M-100 Granade Launcher from her back, and held it out. "I gave Jack and Zaeed the Avalanche and Firestorm, so I figured it was only fair to arm you, too."

Mordin took it from her, careful and precise, looking the weapon up and down. "Unneeded, but appreciated. Like symmetry. Meet you, give you Carnifex. Leave you, get Grenade Launcher. Thank you, Shepard."

Shepard clapped him on the shoulder. "No problem, Professor. Take care of yourself."

Mordin nodded, and slung the launcher onto his back. "You, too, Commander," he said, and vanished into the crowds.

End 12.

One Show Only (No Encore) 11: Tali

"You got everything you need?" Shepard asked, holding the lid to the crate shut so Tali could latch it. Tali might have come on board with little more than a spare exosuit and some dextro rations, but over the last month she had managed to acquire a surprising amount of stuff.Technology, half-finished projects, an astonishing assortment of tools; all of it had to be carted back to the Neema. Shepard had been forced to search out a few extra storage pods for her. Hopefully the Migrant Fleet would appreciate four large crates full of mechanical tinkerings.

"I think so," Tali said, slapping the top of the crate to endure it was secure. "Garrus did not want the dextro food we had left, so Gardner is packing that up for me, too, but we can get that on our way out."

"Was there a lot left over?" Shepard asked. The past week had been a constant going-away feast, and Gardner had outdone himself again and again. There were multiple courses, little pastries, and, according to Garrus, actually palatable dextro food. Both Tali and Garrus had been eating more than usual.

"Mostly gourmet spices," Tali said. "I'm sure the Neema will appreciate the upgrade. The kind of decadent ingredients you sprang for aren't usually a priority for the Fleet."

"I'm just the bank," Shepard protested. "Gardner's the one who makes the shopping list!"

"And Gardner was the one to buy us Turnian chocolates?" Tali teased.

"Well, everyone deserves chocolate," Shepard said.

Tali laughed. "It was very good," she admitted, and leaned against the central control panel, looking around. “It’s strange, how quickly you get used to the clutter. It looks so empty in here.”

Shepard followed her gaze. Engineering was vacant, other than the two of them. Ken and Gabby had cleared out as soon as they had seen the size of the boxes Shepard had brought in. They had said they did not want to be in the way, but Shepard had overheard them whispering about not wanting to be roped into helping pack delicate equipment.

“We aren’t putting everything back,” Shepard teased. “I’m sure the ship will survive with an actually clean and organized Engineering bay.”

“I knew where everything was! It’s just nice to be able to spread out,” Tali protested. “Even with all the Cerberus crew, the Normandy still has more square meters per person than any other ship I’ve lived on.”

“That’s my ship, the lap of luxury,” Shepard said.

"She is a very good ship," Tali agreed. "I'm going to miss her."

"Are you going to change your name back?" Shepard asked. "Now that you've been transferred back to the Neema, and since the Collector base has been destroyed, I thought you might want to go back to 'Tali'Zorah vas Neema.'"

Tali shook her head sharply. "No!" she said. "The Admiralty Board changed my name, and -- well, this ship is home, too. It was the Normandy that let me complete my Pilgrimage, and it was the Normandy's Captain that saved me and my father. I will remain Tali'Zorah vas Normandy." She hesitated, but before Shepard could say anything, continued: "That is ... as long as you do not mind? Since the Alliance will very likely be taking your ship away, and --"

Shepard threw an arm around her shoulder and squeezed in a one handed hug. Tali tucked her head against Chaya’s shoulder and hugged back.

"I would be honored, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy," Shepard said.

"Thank you, Captain," Tali murmured.

End 11

The day before they entered Tuchanka's atmosphere, Shepard found Grunt hunched over the small screen of a datapad in the mess hall. "Grunt," she greeted, and slid into the seat beside him.

"Shepard!" Grunt looked up and grinned. It was a terrifying smile.

Shepard smiled back. "What are you doing?" she asked, looking around the mess. It was empty, though it was just a little while before dinner. Even Gardner was nowhere to be seen. Shepard hoped the pot on the stove did not need to be stirred or the heat adjusted or … whatever else one did when cooking food for a mixed species crew.

"I was looking at human historical disasters," Grunt said, gesturing at a datapad propped up before him. "I'm watching documentaries about human naval craft disasters. There’s a lot of water on Earth. Wonder why your continents don’t just float away." He glanced at Shepard. “Join me?”

"Uh," Shepard said, about to decline, but then caught sight of Grunt's blue eyes. Huge, pleading blue eyes. And he was trying to be polite, too. Dammit. "Sure. What's this one about?"

"Some civilian cruiser called the Titanic," Grunt said. "Ooh, this part's good. He's been chained up and the is water rising. His mate ran off to find the key, but she keeps falling over. Also, she might get shot."

Chaya tilted her head. "This is a documentary?" she asked. "I didn't think they had vid cameras back in the early 20th century."

Grunt said, "Maybe it's a dramatic reenactment. Shhh, just watch."

An hour and a half later, Shepard furiously blinked her eyes. "Fuck," she said. "He died? What kind of ending is that?"

"What a moron," Grunt said. "Don't they know basic physics?"

"And she gave up everything to remember him," Shepard continued.

"Are humans really so weak a little cold will kill them?"

"That necklace was really hideous, though."

"Yeah."

Shepard sniffed, and cleared her throat. "Good vid, Grunt."

"I was hoping for more explosions," Grunt confessed.

Chaya laughed. "Ok, okay. I am starving. Wow, it's late. Shouldn’t people be eating?"

"I believe the crew is waiting for you to finish your documentary," Edi offered. "Hawthorne in particular has been most vocal about the delay. Though some other members of the crew members have told him they would be happy to give him their supply of nutrient paste if he doesn't feel like waiting."

Shepard snorted. "I'm done, I'm done. Tell them we’re clearing out. Hey, Grunt, want to grab snacks and marathon the Blasto vids in my cabin?"

"Yes," Grunt said, and followed her to the elevator.

END 10