As soon as I walked in the door and saw John, I was flooded with guilt for working two nights in a row. Maybe John would let me take some day shifts with the kitten, so he at least got time off and wasn't the only one losing sleep. At least I managed to trade a few shifts to make sure that it wouldn’t happen again for the next four weeks. By then our little girl should be eating solid food and running around the apartment, wreaking havoc and turning Frankie's muzzle gray.

John passed out halfway through dinner, occasionally gaining consciousness just enough to insist he was awake. It was adorable. But he was going to get a crick in his neck if he kept sleeping like that. As soon as the 8 o'clock commercials came on, I rested the kitten and Frankie in their nest and turned to John.  

"It's time for you to go to bed," I said, rubbing his arm and receiving no response. "John... Johhhnnn..."

His eyes fluttered open and, when they focused, he broke into a wide smile I couldn't help but returning. It happened slowly, yet there didn't seem to be time to stop it. He reached up to cup the back of my head and leaned forward. 

I could have pulled away. Should have. But I was weak. This was John, after all. 

So I watched his lips ascend towards mine and allowed my eyes to flutter shut as our lips met. It was a simple, tender brush of the lips, but I clutched his bicep to ground myself from the electricity that arced between us every time we kissed. 

Then I began to lose my balance and set my knee on the couch to steady myself. If I hadn't maybe we could have pretended this kiss had never happened. John's lips parted at the pressure of my forward movement and, when I gasped in surprise, the kiss turned carnal. He wrapped his free arm around me and pulled me closer. 

Sitting here together, cuddling pets, chatting about nothing... it felt so natural. It always had, which is what had gotten us into trouble last fall. It felt like we'd known each other forever, but we hadn't. Not at all.

John hadn't trusted me with the truth. In fact, he'd gone out of his way to hide it, and I was still angry. And hurt. And being apart was his decision, so he did not get to just kiss me like this -- so casually and lovingly and passionately and a whole lot of other '–ly's that I couldn't recall right now because his lips were searing mine, which they had no right to do!

I allowed myself to enjoy the kiss for a few beats of our hearts, revel in the soft scratch of his beard, the unique scent of him —a combination of 'fragrance free' products and old books full of adventure and pure Johnness— before I pressed my hands to his chest and stumbled back.   

"No. This can't happen again. You can't keep doing this to me," I told him. He broke eye contact, looking down, shame and sadness written all over his face. But I clutched my anger to my chest like a lifeline.

"I– I'm sorry. I didn't... I just... I woke up and you were there and... I forgot where and when I was. I'm sorry," he stammered. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed convulsively. "You're right. I crossed the line and I understand if you... if you... if you need to leave." 

I looked over at Frankie. The pug seemed torn between jumping up and taking part in this conversation and staying with his kitten. His fragile kitten. I took in John's drawn face, bruises beneath his eyes from two sleepless nights. The anger began to drain out of me.

"I'm not going to leave. It was a moment's insanity and you were basically still asleep. But I'm here out of friendship only, because Frankie and the kitten need help and for once my crazy schedule comes in handy."

"You're staying?" he whispered. 

"Yes."

"And I didn't ruin our friendship?"

"No, you didn't. We're still friends," I assured him.

"I really value... I really resp... I don't want to lose you from my life, but it's more important that you're happy. You're important to me, Tommy." John's eyes filled with tears. I reminded myself that lack of sleep tended to heighten emotions, that was all.

"You're important to me, too," I admitted. I moved out of the way so he could stand up. "Now go to your room and get some sleep, pronto!"

"Okay. Thanks," he got up and rubbed behind Frankie’s ear, pet the kitten with one gentle finger, and left the room. I deflated and flopped onto the couch. How could this possibly work?

Then John poked his head out of the bedroom. "Who won?"

"What? When? On Jeopardy?" I asked. "Ethaniel won."

"Which one was he?" John asked, because his name-recall was laughably terrible. Even for names as unusual as Ethaniel.

"He was the guy with the ugly sweater-vest who kept buzzing in on the BB category and getting them wrong."

"Really?" John scrunched up his nose. I hadn't realized he'd even paid attention that long, but I hadn't expected the win either.

"He got a couple biggies right at the end and then was the only one to get the final question right," I explained. He shook his head in disbelief and, without another word, went back into his room. 

Just like that, things were normal again. Well, whatever kind of normal we could strive to have. A weak part of me wanted to storm into his room, strip him bare, and fuck him silly. But I was pretty sure that urge would never fade away completely — I just had to ignore it. Which I could totally do. Really.

Because this friendship was important to me. And, friendship or not, I was needed here. The as-yet-unnamed kitten began to shout for food, as if to drive the point home, and I stood up to do her bidding.

We fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, but we got closer with each passing day. We had dinner and breakfast together most days, played games, chatted about our days, and watched more Supernatural on Netflix. We found ways to include Frankie in kitten-rearing activities — guiding the 'grooming' toothbrush which simulated a momma cat's tongue, testing the temperature of her formula on his nose, and helping us make decisions. Frankie and I continued to improvise a song together for every little milestone. Had we recorded our little ditties, it would have been pure, Grammy-winning gold.

For those few weeks, we were a family. 

John and I shared casual touches and found ourselves sitting closer and closer on the couch — it was nearly impossible not to. We avoided discussion of the future and ignored the more serious issues that hung in the air between us. Our lives revolved around the kitten and we were (mostly) content with that. 

Okay, that was a lie. We weren't content at all, but we were each hoarding these peaceful, loving moments for our emotional spank-banks. I just enjoyed the time I had with John, with absolutely no expectations for the future other than friendship and heartbreak, and ignored my best friend’s concerned looks.

In self-defense and practicality, I focused on my actual future. I texted back and forth with Specter a bit, and discovered he was a pretty funny guy when he actually talked. I was looking forward to our wedding date. It would be fun, pretending we were going to prom with our friends, and I hoped something romantic and real would slowly blossom between myself and the sexy, smart, sarcastic SEAL.