This wasn’t in the script. Not that we had a script. But if we’d had one, this would not have been in it.

John kneeled before me and for once his amber eyes looked up into mine. My hands shook and he gave them a little squeeze. I was aware of how very quiet the room was. I shrugged and Specter sat down, releasing his too-tight grip on the back of my neck, but still keeping his leg against mine.

“Tommy, I love you.”

“John–”

“I do. I love you,” he said, and I believed him. “I think I’ve loved you since the moment we met, and I fall more in love with you with every minute we spend together.”

“John–” His name was apparently the only word I could say.

“I have a lot of groveling to do. And I know you have better options out there,” he said. My date grumbled something under his breath, catching John’s attention. “But not this guy. He may seem great on paper, but I think you’ll have to return him to the store and ask for a refund because he has to be defective. Your guard dog hasn’t cracked a smile all night.”

“John–” I admonished. But when Specter growled, I had to work hard to hold back my giggle. John’s lips twitched as well. ‘Guard Dog’ definitely fit him better than ‘Security Dude,’ which was what the Moore teens called Julian’s coworkers.

“I love you. You’re brilliant and caring and funny and sweet and you make everyone’s day better just by coming into the room and smiling and being yourself. I don’t deserve you, but I will spend every single day–”

People started whispering all around us: “Moooove! I can’t see!” “Oh my god, is he actually proposing at your cousin’s wedding?” “Does he have a ring?”

“Noooo! He isn’t proposing!” I said to the room at large in a ‘duh-of-course-not’ teenager tone of voice. Because this was just over-the-top drama, as the groom requested. Wasn’t it? “Oh god, I’m sorry. You’re not proposing, are you?”

“Umm… no?” he said hesitantly. “Do you want me to?”

“What?” Was that a real question?

“I will, but it’s a little early. Well, not for me. You’re it for me. The one. But for you it probably is,” he said, thrown completely off his game and baffling me with every word out of his mouth. He stared at our joined hands, absently rubbing my palms with his thumbs as he once did whenever there was something on his mind. He kept rambling, “I mean, I don’t know for sure what the future holds and hopefully one day you’ll agree to marry me. But every day that you wake up and decide to be with me will be a gift that I will cherish for the rest–”

“Yes!” I shouted, and the room gasped. Wow, this was like being in a movie. I was pretty sure John and I were even more shocked than anyone else in the room, but that didn’t change how I felt or what I wanted. “Yes, John. I’ll marry you.”

“You– you will?” he asked, a huge grin lighting up his face. He didn’t smile nearly enough — I’d have to fix that.

“Yes, I will. I love you, John. I don’t know what the future holds, either, although I can guess. I’m pretty good at guessing. But whatever happens —good or bad or just kinda meh— I want to face it together.”

John nodded. Probably. His face was getting blurry. God, sometimes I hated being a crier. I bent down and kissed him, trapping our hands between us which would have been awkward enough, but then people around us cheered and we realized where we were and then I felt even more awkward.

“I love you,” I whispered against his lips, and I could feel him smile. “But no more secrets, okay? We’re in this together.”

“Oh come on,” Specter grumbled behind me. “You’re just going to marry him and completely forget about how he–”

“Spec,” his boss said. “Shut it. It’s his life to screw up however he wants to screw it up.”

“Sorry, the Guard Dogs are having a rough night. Only one of them’s getting laid,” I explained to John. A couple of them made a Scooby-Doo-like questiony noises, like ‘urrrRR?’ and I amended the statement, “Unless, you know, someone jumps on that grenade and invites another to a threesome, or–”

“We get it, we get it,” Specter said. “Go. Have fun.”

The show was officially over. People started to talk to each other again. I took John’s hand in mine and laced our fingers together. “Come on. You drove here, right? Or I can call an U–”

“You want to go now?” John asked. “What about the cake?”

At that, Greg shoved a Moore Delicious pastry box into my hands. Because that was what omniscient best friends were for: supplying you with go-get-laid cake. We went and hugged the grooms goodbye. John apologized for stealing their thunder, but they assured us that this was exactly the kind of drama Logan had hoped for and they were very happy for us. Although I couldn’t tell how happy my mother was with this development, my parents hugged us both and my mother invited my fiancé to dinner next weekend, insisting he bring his sister’s family with him, along with her new fur-grandbabies.

Neither of us were big on public displays of affection, but we found ourselves stopping every few yards to kiss each other very thoroughly along the way between the reception and the parking lot. Once we got into the car and were on the road, alone together, it really hit me. “Oh my god. We’re getting married.”

“Right now?” John asked, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “I don’t think the courthouse is open tonight, and it’s a long flight to Vegas.”

I laughed. I knew he was only half-kidding, and I considered teasing him by saying we were definitely dressed for the occasion. But I was worried the half of John that wasn’t kidding actually would have driven us to the courthouse, had it been open.

“I should text my sister when we get home,” he said instead. As if he wasn’t eager to tear our clothes off the minute we were alone. Maybe he wasn’t — although we were kissing, I’d been the only one doing any groping.

“Why don’t you wait,” I suggested. “If you tell her when you pick him up in the morning, Frankie won’t accidentally overhear before you tell him the good news.”

“Good idea. He’d want to hear it directly from us,” he said, grinning. He caressed my thigh with the back of his hand and I could feel myself growing hard again. “Oh, and Greg put a bag in my back seat. I’m hoping it’s just clothes or something.”

“Or something,” I said. I could guess what was in that bag. “I bet there are toiletries and a change of clothes. Probably scrubs, just in case I didn’t go home with you tonight.”

After a moment, John decided, “Nope. Given Greg’s hubris, there’s probably regular clothes and your sparkly pink flip-flops.”

“Aaaand a box of condoms and some lube,” I added. Because Greg was thoughtful like that. “Ooo! Think they’re lightsaber condoms?”

“Are there really lightsaber condoms?! How did Logan not know that? That would have completely circumvented the whole blue dye fiasco!” John exclaimed.

“They must exist. They probably come in blue and red and glow in the dark. Now you have to tell me everything you know about the blue dye fiasco. I need details.”

“Nobody volunteered this information willingly,” he warned. It was the perfect distraction. John was probably as nervous and excited as I was and we were several miles from his apartment. “One day Chance walked into work with a bright blue mouth. He told everybody who asked and several people who didn’t that it he’d been taste-testing some brightly-dyed icing.” I snorted at that. Chance was a terrible liar. In fact, both men were. “Of course, Xander didn’t buy it, so we teased him until he told us the truth. Chance didn’t tell us all that many details except that they’d had an epic lightsaber battle complete with sound effects, movie quotes, and liberal use of The Force because they’re total dorks.”

“Says the guy with the fairy dragon dildo,” I teased.

John gave me some side-eye. “Aaanyway, the end result was semi-permanently dyed skin. Their mouths and hands they could scrub, but… well, it took over a month for the dye to wash off other parts.”

I could imagine Greg’s huge, former football player brother hopping around the bedroom hurling quotes, insisting his fiancé stay in character, and having the time of his life. Logan had completely come out of his shell ever since he’d —metaphorically— jumped out of the closet and onto his five-year-long crush.

“Your friends and my friends have come together to make the most adorable couples ever,” I sighed. Weddings and surprise engagements didn’t happen every day, so I took a moment to bask in the romance of it all. “Seven years ago, a pixie with cherry-red hair spilled coffee all over my best friend. She claims they only exchanged numbers so she could replace his ruined textbook. Who knew a long, uncomfortably-damp train ride would lead to so many people being this happy?”

Even me.

A few months ago, I would have laughed in Greg’s face if he’d suggested I’d be coupled back up with John. Was ‘coupled up’ a thing? Whatever. It worked and I could have weird idioms in the privacy of my own head if I wanted to.

“I’m pretty sure every single one of us would have been willing to dump hot coffee in Greg’s lap, to have this,” John agreed. His grin widened as he added, “In fact, maybe that’s the good luck charm. And it’s been seven years. What if we have to refresh the luck?”

“And dump hot coffee in Greg’s lap?” I asked, trying not to laugh because it was almost plausible. “You know, if we tell the kids, they’d get right on it. Oh! Nonononono — we should ask Frankie! He’d rope the other dogs into the scheme and it would look completely accidental.”

“You’re right. There’s no way he’d trace it back to us. Frankie will probably play along if we explain our reasoning and assure him nobody will get bad-dogged.”

“I like how you don’t think we need to reassure him that Greg won’t get burned,” I said, laughing. My best friend was going to hate me so much for this, but it was totally going to happen.

“Hmmm… who will the next couple will be? Maybe one of the guard dogs…” he mused.

“Guard dogs?” I asked, before it clicked. “Nope. None of those guys will be next.”

“Why not?” John seemed genuinely surprised.

“Max isn’t in the relationship he thinks he’s in. Quinn and Buzzard live on different coasts and it’s definitely just a friends-with-benefits dealie. And Specter is a loner.”

“I don’t buy it. Maybe he has stronger feelings than you know.” John took his hand off my leg, but it was hopefully just so he could park the car properly.

“Who, Specter? Nope. I think he sees me as Julian Moore Lite. So he was a little protective,” I assured him. Because after that chemistry-less kiss, there was no way that guy saw himself as anything more than my older, wiser brother. In fact…

I turned my phone off and opened the door. I knew I’d get concerned texts from somebody, and I didn’t want to overthink this. Not tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough to start stressing my ass off. I had better things to do with my ass tonight.

“What are you laughing about?” John asked as he rounded the car.

It wasn’t even funny, but I wound up laughing outright. The only intelligible thing I said between giggles was, “Ass off.” And then he was laughing.

“Umm… is this like a dance fight, only with asses? Because… what?”

He held me up as I laughed harder because, for once, John could not follow my insanity well enough to play along. When I could breathe, I tilted my head up so he could kiss me, and then all thoughts of ass-dancing contests disappeared. We raced each other up the stairs, him walking two steps below me so he could ogle and grope my ass — which definitely was what my ass was for tonight.

When we reached his apartment he pushed me hard against the door, and then proceeded to rain silly little kisses all over my face and neck while he tried to shove his key into the lock. Those kisses weren’t working for me, and his attempts at unlocking his door weren’t working for either of us. I wanted more. Needed more. He was too close for me to open his belt so I reached under his jacket and slipped my fingers under the waistband of his pants —his waistbands were always a little loose on him, even with a belt— I slid my fingers back and forth around the band teasingly. As soon as I heard the key slide into the lock, he claimed my mouth in a fierce triumphant kiss and I slid one finger lower, between his cheeks. Or, it would have been between his cheeks, if there weren’t layers of tucked-in-shirt and underwear protecting his assly virtue.

The door opened and I fell backwards, until strong arms wrapped around me. For a moment, I was sure I was about to pull him down on top of me, but John won the battle and managed to keep us upright.

“I forgot, you’ve been working out,” I said, although I wasn’t sure how I could’ve forgotten. John had taken his doctors’ advice and started exercising more. He’d go first thing in the morning three times a week, while I watched the kiddos, and then came back all sexy and disheveled. And then I’d go home and masturbate. I squeezed his bicep appreciatively. “I must say, I find you and your body sexy regardless, but it’s definitely hot that we didn’t wind up in a pile of awkward on the floor.”

“Have I mentioned how gorgeous you look tonight?” John asked, pushing my tuxedo jacket off my shoulders. “It made me wish we’d known each other as teenagers and you’d asked me to your senior prom and our parents had taken a million pictures. Then we’d eat with a bunch of friends and dance two slow dances before we snuck out early and… you know.”

“Do I know?” I teased.

“We’re about to you know all over the entryway if we don’t get to the bedroom soon.” He gave my ass one last squeeze and nipped my earlobe before taking my hand in his and dragging me into the bedroom.

We stood there staring at each other for a moment, and I could feel the tension building. So I ruffled his hair thoroughly and grinned at my masterpiece. My haughty math professor looked so intimidatingly immaculate in his three-piece suit that, every time he’d glared at me and Specter, I’d fantasized about messing him up until he looked as agitated as I felt. It just made him look sexier, dammit, but at least now he looked approachable. He looked like mine.

John leaned down and poked my cheek with the tip of his tongue. The goof did that sometimes —licked my dimples— and I’d missed that bizarre gesture of affection. “I love it when you smile, and that’s one smile I haven’t seen in far too long. What are you thinking about?”

“Dirty, naughty, filthy things to do to you, Professor. In fact, I don’t think I can hold back any more. C’mere!” I ripped at his tie with one hand, the other working the buttons of his vest, while John got to work on my tuxedo. We kissed and wrestled each other out of our clothes.

John’s beanpole body had developed muscles since I’d last seen him naked, and he had a hint of a six-pack. I had a moment of insecurity —I was compact and trim, but not nearly as defined— until I caught the undisguised, raw hunger swirling in his amber eyes.

He hooked his thumbs into his waistband. I cheered and hopped backwards onto the bed. When they dropped onto the floor, I cheered even louder… until someone thumped on the wall. So I stroked myself lightly and stage-whispered, “Woooooo!”

He juggled a beeper-shaped device in his hand, eyes focused on the movement of my hand on my cock. Crossing to the nightstand and pulled out a lace garter, which he proceeded to put on until it reached his thigh. John clipped his insulin pump to it, his smile self-conscious and wavering. “Frankie caught it at Xander and Julian’s wedding, and I promised to keep it somewhere safe. I’ll find something more suitable online tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother — it’s perfect,” I reassured him, continuing to stroke myself. John batted my hand away from my cock and covered my body with his.

“Tonight, I want to pleasure you. I want to watch you come apart under my hands.” His words rumbled through my chest, his breath hot against my neck.

“But what do you want for yourself?” I asked.

“That is for myself.” His beard rasped against my skin as he kissed, licked, nibbled, and sucked his way up my neck before capturing my mouth with a playful growl. I moaned at his sloppy, passionate, domineering kiss.

“Hmmm. I suppose I can let you pleasure me, just this once.” I sighed dramatically, as if put upon.

He moved against me, his hard cock rutting against my thighs, his chest hair rubbing against me deliciously and catching lightly on my nipple rings. I hummed in pleasure at the sensation. Although I had to wear an extra layer of clothing to hide the piercings, they were so very worth it. John smiled against my lips and rolled to the side, bringing a hand between us to play with one nipple then the other, alternating between teasingly soothing caresses and more inflammatory tugging, twisting, pinching, and flicking. All the while, he devoured my mouth.

My hips pumped helplessly, searching for contact. He drank in my whimpers and pleas, and murmured, “So sensitive… Do you suppose I can make you come, just from this?”

“We– You– Umm– Save for next tomorrow week?” Incoherent, I prayed he understood the gist of my babbling.

“I’ll pencil it into my planner for next tomorrow week,” he agreed. I took the hand that had momentarily released my piercing and brought it to my cock. “Really? You want me to touch you down there?”

Despite his teasing, John was anything but calm. I wrapped my fingers around his cock — its head and my thigh were wet with pre-cum and he shuddered at my touch. I wanted him to fuck me, but didn’t have the patience for the prep required to make it happen. He ran his hand lightly up and down my length, driving me out of my mind. I stroked John’s cock with a firm grip. When I added a twist to the top, he gasped and pulled away.

“I’m not done with you, yet.” He nipped my lips and kissed down my body, raising a brow when I hesitated to release him from my grasp. I pouted, but loosened my grip enough that he could slide out. He thrust his hips one last time, then continued to kiss downward. When he settled between my thighs and looked up at me, I caught my breath at the sight of my cock so close to his full, kiss-swollen lips. He nuzzled me and I shivered at the sensation of his prickly, soft beard against my sensitive skin. Then his tongue darted out and swirled around the mushroom head. “Mmm.”

He licked my cock as if it were an ice cream cone and, just as I thought he was going to take me in his mouth, he diverted his attention to my balls. He lapped at them, took one into his mouth, then the other. I ran my fingers through his chestnut hair lightly, loving the feel of it in my hand but also desperately wanting to guide his mouth. But I was a gentleman and would be passive under his ministrations. For now.

John laughed as though hearing my thoughts and raised his hand to place two fingers at my lips. The moment I sucked them down as if fellating him, he swallowed me to the root. I moaned around his fingers and sucked harder. His head bobbed and tongue undulated. He pulled his fingers from my mouth and began to swirl them around my trembling, extremely eager hole. One entered, soon followed by the other as he hummed around me. His looked up at me, full lips wrapped around my cock, eyes full of love and heat and promise…

“Oh, John–” I screamed when he sucked his cheeks in and firmly massaged my gland, and arched off the bed, my world blissfully on fire.

As I settled back down to Earth, he lapped up the drops he missed and joined me on the bed. I kissed him thoroughly, tasting myself on his tongue. Skin-to-skin with my Dr. Watson, I felt at peace for the first time in months. With our height difference, our bodies did not line up, but we still fit perfectly together… as if we were two halves of a whole we’d never imagined until we met.

“I thought I’d imagined this,” I whispered against his lips, and he breathed in my words. “But it’s always been this way.”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“It feels a little like a dream. Maybe those crazy blue Light-Side cocktails were full of the happiest hallucinatory drugs known to man,” I mused, my cheeks getting tired from all the smiling I couldn’t contain.

He grinned and brushed his lips over mine. “If that is true, well… despite my nickname, I think this is the first time I’m happy to be tripping my ass off.”

“Hmmm… let me see…” I pulled my hands from his and reached around to grope his ass, then winked. “Nope, that amazing ass is still here, thank goodness!”

I began to reach for his member, but he pulled away.

“But you haven’t–”

“Rest. We can go again and again, all night long. We have at least ten hours before we have to get Frankie and Izzy.” For all his talk, he began to tease my nipples again.

“John, you are going to kill me!” I groaned. He just snickered and tugged on a ring. “Right here is my will and testament. I, Thomas Powers, being of sound mind and body–”

“Very sound body.”

“…duly declare that I love Doctor John Watson and would have married him, but he swallowed my cock in full knowledge that it would be the death of me. I therefore leave all my worldly possessions to Dizzy Izzy and her father, Sir Francis Bacon, to be dispensed of as they see fit.” I then dramatically let my head flop to the side and my tongue loll out of my mouth.

John chuckled and I continued to play dead, so that he had to manhandle my limp body onto its side so he could curl up behind me. The last thing I remember is him nuzzling my cheek and whispering in my ear, “I love you so frakking much.”

I woke up in the morning. After a year of night-work, that was a pretty weird way to wake up. But it was even weirder because I wasn’t in my own bed, I wasn’t alone, and my head was full of questions and regrets.

I didn’t regret sleeping with John —I’d assumed that would happen— but I did regret the fact that we didn’t do much more than literally sleep. We didn’t even talk. And we definitely needed to talk.

Had John meant to ask me to marry him? Scratch that. I knew he hadn’t intended to ask, as did everyone else in that room. And I knew he was being honest when he said he wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. But he’d spent the entire fall and winter letting me believe that his love had just been a figment of my imagination.

The real question was whether he actually intended to marry me one day. Would we really face life’s challenges together, or was he going to wake up this morning or next week or next year and give in to his fears? Would he break things off because another doctor gave him bad news? Or even just after a bad dream or some jerk’s snide remark about who knew what?

No, he ‘knew what.’ The problem was, I didn’t. There was something specific going on, and I had a feeling he would stay vague until forced to do otherwise. And staying vague meant hiding symptoms and keeping worries to himself. It meant hiding important information about himself and how he saw our future together.

Oh god, what if he got it in his head that… maybe his dog was the one reason I was really with him, and if Frankie got sick or hurt or ran away, all the benefits of being together were outweighed by the problems… and then he’d hide information about Frankie’s health and happiness, or his job, or his fr–

“Shhh. You’re thinking too loud,” John said, his arm tightening around me. “Sixty seconds freaking out is plenty. You don’t have to marry me. It’s not like you signed on the dotted line and now I own your soul, all because you want to be an award-winning actor. But now you realized too late that you needed to specify that you didn't want to become a household name for that thing you can do with your tongue. You can change your mind.”

“What thing that I do with my tongue?” I asked, trying to find a way to respond to his question in a non-needy way.

“I don’t know. I was hoping you’d show me,” he said in a rare lecherous tone, and I tried to laugh. “But seriously, Tommy. You don’t have to marry me. I’ll understand. And we can laugh it off as a dramatic scene worthy of Susan Lucci or we can just never plan a wedding and eventually break up or whatever. Regardless of what your dad said, it isn’t all-or-nothing with us. We can have something in-between.”

“Wait, my dad said what?” I knew my dad introduced himself to him, but I hadn’t realized he’d talked about our relationship. But of course, he just had to meddle. Dammit, Dad!

“Don’t be mad at him,” he said, knowing full well I wasn’t. Not really. Well, not much. “Your dad should have told me to back off, considering I hurt you and everyone knows Specter is better husband material. But he didn’t, which could only mean I hadn’t completely blown all my chances at a life with you in it. I can’t help but notice that you haven’t answered my question.”

“Be completely honest. Are you asking because you’re not sure what I want, or you’re not sure what you want?” There. I said it. I braced for his response.

“All of my idiocy for the past several months is based on the simple fact that I got scared and my head was in a bad place and, no matter what I wanted, I made a decision based on what I assumed you needed. So tell me: what do you want?”

It was easier having this discussion while spooned together. We didn’t have to hide our emotions behind a mask, and yet we were still in intimate, reassuring contact. Unfortunately, I didn’t know whether what I wanted was realistic.

“I love you,” I told him. “But I hate secrets and I pride myself on knowing when people are being weird and shifty because when I do notice I’m usually right, but I had absolutely no clue you’d been hiding things from me and I’m not sure I’ll know if you do it again and that scares me a lot.”

“Breathe,” John urged, but his voice was so strangled that it practically took telepathy to understand, and his arm tightened around my chest in such a way that deep breaths were impossible. “I can– I can tell you everything. Anything. Right now, if you want. You– you can ask me questions, or I suppose I can try to guess? After all, you don’t necessarily know what you don’t know and I don’t know what you want to know or need to know. So… I don’t know. Do you know?”

“I know, but that’s a lot of ground to cover in one morning,” I teased, although it wasn’t a joke at all. I should have expected this response. He sounded as desperate not to lose me as I was not to lose him. I couldn’t use his fears as a weapon against him. “You don’t have to tell me every thought in your head and everything that’s ever happened to you or will happen. You’re entitled to privacy.”

“Okay.”

“There are some things I have worked out for myself, so I just need you to fill in some blanks. For now. And after that, I’ll only have one question. No… make that…” I counted in my head, not wanting to leave anything out. “Okay, four more questions. So five altogether.”

He kissed the curve of my neck. “Okay.”

“You said you broke up with me because of some bad news from your doctor, and you didn’t want to give me the option of sacrificing my happiness like a virgin on the John Watson altar. Was that the only reason?”

“Pretty much,” he murmured, and I waited. He didn’t stay silent for long. “My father died shortly after his thirty-second birthday. I believe– No, I know I was feeling my own mortality. And, just to be absolutely clear, that was why Joy and I celebrated our birthday alone together. It had nothing to do with how I felt about you.”

John was able to put a wealth of meaning into a few short sentences, which I would spend time unpacking on my own. I tried to face him, but his arm was still a steel band around my chest.

“Let me turn around. I need to hug you while we talk.” He relaxed his grip and I buried my face against his neck and held him for a moment or ten before I dragged the next question out into the open. “Right now, you don’t have to be specific. Eventually, I need to know, but you can have a little time because I know it’s hard for you, okay?”

“Mmm-ay,” he mumbled.

“While I was driving you to the hospital —which was scary as fuck, by the way— your sister gave me a brief medical history to share with the doctors. Can you just confirm my conclusions or tell me if I’m wrong?” I asked. He mumbled an affirmative again.

“It’s not fatal.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It doesn’t require any medications or surgery.”

“No, it doesn’t. Not right now.”

“It’s definitely diabetes-related.”

“Yes.”

“It’s unavoidable.”

“Yes.” His voice broke and I told him my last conclusions.

“It terrifies you. And it terrifies you that you might become too dependent on me. But that’s because I could actually help you cope.”

He squeezed me tighter, which was answer enough.

“Okay. I’m in,” I told him. “We’ll face it together. We’ll face everything together. And that isn’t an empty promise based on ‘a lack of accurate data,’ as I know you’d put it. I spent time researching my butt off and staring at my ceiling coming up with a lot of extreme possibilities. Some gave me a moment for pause, but none would have scared me away had you given me a choice.”

“It won’t be as easy as it seems right now,” he whispered.

“Nothing worth having is ever easy.”

He pulled back and I felt a moment of concern before his lips found mine in a long, tender kiss that had me gasping for breath against his shoulder.

“God, I love you so much,” he said laughing.

“You can just call me Tommy,” I quipped. “And I love you too, John.”

“You’re adorable,” he said and I groaned. I was doomed to always be adorable. “Don’t groan. Last night you were definitely sexy with an air of mystery swirling about your person. And the only thing that’s changed since then is that you’re way sexier and less intimidating because you’re in my bed and rumpled and have beard burn from me. Three questions left?”

“Ummm. Yes. Actually…” Why was I even making one of them a question? The last one would be enough to break the ice. “No. Only two more. I’m not giving you a choice for one of them because it is my official decree as your newly affianced groom that we are having omelets and wedding cake for breakfast. In bed.”

“A decree, hmmm? Well, I’ll indulge you just this once,” he teased. We both indulged each other’s whims as often as possible —even as ‘just friends’— mostly because we both wound up having oodles of fun. John may have been about to say more, but I was too anxious to get my questions out of the way.

“Would you like to go alone to Joy’s to pick up Frankie and Izzy, or do you want me to come with you? I’m fine with either. Really. I don’t want you to have to censor yourselves,” I told him honestly. I was 99% sure John’s twin (and his pug) would be happy that we were back together, but I was less certain of their response to our engagement. “Holy crap, we’re getting married?!”

“Was that two questions or was the second more of a shrieky exclamation?” he asked, kissing down my neck and along my shoulder. “I’d love it if you came with me to Joy’s. At some point we’ll probably want to talk privately, but I’m sure her husband and the little monsters would love a chance to talk to you alone, as well.”

“Joe, Sammy, and Charlotte,” I said automatically. “And Frankie and Izzy. That sounds great. I still haven’t met Joe, so that will be fun. Get the inside scoop on what it’s really like to be part of your family.”

“I don’t know how you keep everyone straight,” he said, even though I knew he wasn’t as bad with names as he pretended. “But… Joy’s my only family. That’s it. You’re not disappointed, are you?”

“You know your family is much bigger than that. But no, I’m not disappointed. I meant… well, you’re twins,” I explained without actually giving any sort of explanation. But siblings already had their own dynamic, and as twins orphaned at twenty… Talking to another ‘outsider’ would give me insight into my sweet, eccentric, reserved mathematician. “Okay, next question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did clothing suddenly appear on your body as we slept?”

“Umm… My… thingy?” John gestured under the covers, and I realized he’d clipped his insulin pump to the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

“Ohhhhh. I thought it was a nonverbal cue of some sort,” I said lamely. Why did that get me all misty-eyed? Oh yeah, because I was so frakking insecure with him now. I was embarrassed by my assumption and I was still feeling a bit upset even though I knew it wasn’t true and I felt guilty that I brought attention to his pump. He may have heard some of that in my voice, but it was okay. John wrapped his arm back around me and hugged me close, pressing a kiss into my hair.

“Last but not least…” I screwed up my face as though this was going to be a difficult question to ask. “Where can we leave the glow-in-the-dark condoms to soak in some light? Because we’re totally having a lightsaber battle of our own tonight!”

“Leave them on the window ledge in the bathroom,” he suggested. “It’s gets the most light in the evenings and nobody but us will be going in there for the next few days.

“Great! Now, it’s shower time! C’mon — let’s conserve water.” I still had plenty of energy, even though it was definitely still morning, and my brain was overflowing with filthy thoughts that we needed to get very, very clean. He chuckled naughtily and I could feel the vibration in my chest. I felt safe and playful and so very happy here, in his arms. But we had a shower to enjoy and cake and omelets to eat and then pets to fetch. So eventually I let go, smacked him on the butt, and sauntered to the bathroom.

Which was in the hall.

Where I came face-to-face with John’s nephew.

He took one look at my naked body and shouted, “Woohoo! We’ll make our own s’iety!” The little nudist began to struggle out of his t-shirt.

“Do you need to use the potty?” I asked, because I couldn’t disappear into the bathroom if he needed to tinkle. The toddler was trapped inside his t-shirt, which made this a little less awkward. Kinda.

A muffled ‘no’ drifted out.

“Okay, then. I’m going to take a shower now,” I told him. Then, a little louder than was necessary given he was a few feet away, I called, “John! We have company! And Sammy’s starting his own society!”

“Sorry, Tommy! John said to come at noon!” Joy called from the kitchen, but she was laughing. “Oh, brother dear! I have questions!”

In the bedroom came a muffled, “Frak, frak, frakkity-frak!”

Just as I was closing the bathroom door, Sammy —still stuck in his shirt— announced, “Tommy! Why don’t you have a hairy chest? My daddy has a hairy chest. Do y–”

“Different people have different bodies, kiddo,” I explained as I closed the door audibly, and then I rushed to turn on the shower before he asked a question I couldn’t handle as easily. It looked like we were each showering alone and there’d be no cake for breakfast, but I couldn’t find it in myself to be too disappointed. After all, we were creating our own society.

After I showered and dressed, I entered the living room to find everyone crying. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. The baby was screaming like a banshee, John looked a little misty-eyed, and his sister had tears streaming down her cheeks. But that was enough crying for one small room. Frankie sat in the far corner staring at everyone wide-eyed and Izzy perched on John’s shoulder, clearly put out that she was not the center of attention.

“Take it off!” little Sammy demanded, outraged.

“It’s not every day that someone shouts that at me,” I joked. All the men in the room and the baby were all bare-chested and Joy wore a camisole —our society was already compromising its values— so I took my shirt off as well.

“And now you’ve heard it twice in one day,” John’s brother-in-law teased as Joy threw herself at me and hugged me tight.

I hugged her back and played dumb. “John refused to share his cake, didn’t he? Don’t cry. We can pick up another tomorrow.”

“You have cake?!” Sammy exclaimed and I realized that I’d have to remember to censor myself in front of him.

“I’m so happy!” John’s sister said, holding me tighter.

“Cake can do that to you.”

“Oh stop it!” she said, then whispered in my ear, “I can’t believe you didn’t make him squirm. But I’m very happy for you both.” Joy released me and, back at normal volume demanded, “Don’t you two dare do one of those quickie weddings like Xander. You need to give me at least six months to work off the rest of my baby weight.”

I gasped dramatically. “Joy! You have a body women would kill for!” She just rolled her eyes and stepped back so her husband could shake my hand and welcome me into their crazy family. When I looked skeptical, he informed me that I was marrying ‘the normal twin.’ In the back of my head, I was still thinking about wedding dates and long engagements and worrying about disappointing Sammy if the relationship didn’t work out and… and… and…

John kissed me on the cheek, handed me the kitten —who would not perch on my bare shoulder no matter how much she complained— and left to take a shower himself. I suggested making us all brunch, but they’d eaten, so we sat down instead. I sat on the floor, Frankie and Izzy in my lap and Sammy next to me, and Joy and her husband sat on the couch. Their daughter sprawled across their laps playing with a squeaky rubber left shoe she’d fallen in love with before it could be gifted to Frankie.

They caught me up on the pet-slumber-party, during which Frankie managed to destroy one adult left shoe and three baby booties, and I told them about the wedding-prom and proposal. John had already shown them a video Greg Moore had posted on YouTube, so I just gave them my take on it and was able to avoid turning my phone back on. We were still in a bubble of happiness and I wasn’t ready to let reality intrude quite yet.

It did anyway, when Joy asked, “Did John finally tell you…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but I knew what she was referring to and wished someone would tell me. I took a deep breath, expelled it, didn’t feel better, and tried it again. “He only confirmed what it isn’t, which set my mind at ease. I have to trust that he’ll tell me the rest when he’s ready. I did my research and I really am prepared to stand by his side facing any and all of the possibilities, but… he needs to tell me eventually.” By the end, my voice was just a shaky whisper and I blinked hard.

John’s nephew stood up and I had a moment of sadness that I lost his little warm body beside me before he hugged me. “Everything will be okay, Uncle Tommy.”

“Group hug? I want in!” John announced from the doorway. He wrapped his arms around us and I actually believed Sammy’s words. After all, I had a two-year-old pug, a six-week-old kitten, a three-year-old boy, and a thirty-two-year-old fiancé giving me warmth and comfort and love. With all this, how could everything not be okay?