Writing Challenge: 150 stories. Go.

[Fifi Hart]

#112. Steel

Hate was a very strong word, and Sabine could honestly say she’d heard it plenty of times. She wasn’t sure how many times she had ever felt like it was perfectly true, but she generally let it roll off her back. No pain, no gain, and her students were more successful for her troubles. Most of them anyway.

With Rixon? It was like pulling teeth.

----

“Again.”

“Christ, I hate you!”

“If you would talk less and concentrate more you could probably have done this weeks ago.”

“Well maybe if you would stop bullying me I’d be able to fucking concentrate!”

Sabine shielded herself from the rising flames, throwing a heat blanket over the target. Smoke rose out from under it, wreathing her form and blowing across her hard expression.

“Go home, Rixon. Get your head together and try again tomorrow.”

----

“Christ, I hate her.”

“She’s hard, man. And I don’t mean like hard like…difficult? I mean like hard ass. Like fuckin’ steel man. That’s a bad bitch.”

“Fuckin’ tell me about it.”

----

She had noticed him sneezing in the hallway, but hadn’t noticed how terrible he looked until he’d arrived for training. Strangely, his attendance had improved. It didn’t say anything for his grades, but baby steps were still steps.

She looked him over appraisingly, her icey eyes catching the heavy circles under his eyes. Even his cheeks looked sunken.

“ You’re sick.” She conclulded.

“ M’fine. Let’s do this.”

He turned to light the target. She caught his wrist in a vicegrip, staring down into his defiant glare.

“No.”

“You don’t think I can!” He accused, the shout devolving into a cough. Her face said it all: grim, harsh, and vaguely disapproving.
Like trying to communicate with cold steel.

“No.” she repeated, turning from him to pack up her things.
“I think that you are sick. You need to rest or you will injure yourself. Perhaps permanently.”

If he didn’t know better, he might have thought she cared.

Then again, Sabine made a living off being impossible to read.

----

Sabine did not think she would actually ever see the day that Rixon would graduate. He was barely graduating (and at 21, no less), but it was happening. She was proud of him.
She sat that the back of the ceremony with the same flat steel expression on her face as she usually had, but she was proud of him.

[JD Paerson]

19. Email

Dear Mom,

Thank you for your care package. It got here safe and sound, though Josef stole most of the cookies before I could get to them. Maybe next time we should each get a box? Don’t worry, it’s a joke. Everything went well. I think Josef did something to make it get here fast—it arrived in only three days through some sort of fluke. Gotta love that kid sometimes.

It doesn’t look like I’ll be able to make it home for spring break. I’m going to be going to New York. There is some research I’d like to do in order to finish off my senior year, and I will be traveling with some of the other seniors here, so I can’t let them down. I’m sorry. Don’t worry, once I graduate I’ll be able to come home for a summer before going to college.

That’s some other news, by the way. I got my acceptance letters, and I’ve decided to go to Harvard. They have a program that will allow me to work with MIT and graduate with an engineering degree. That should give me a lot of job opportunities. You can let Dad know that I have done a lot of thinking about this, and I really feel like this is the best career option for me.

You expressed concern about my health problems, but I wanted to let you know that this time it was just a sprained ankle. I haven’t broken any bones for years now. The flu is going around—I hope I don’t catch it, but we’ll see. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful and wash my hands a lot, but it’s a little hard. We live in such a close space here. It’s not always so bad, but it does mean that illnesses can sweep through. Dr. Prideaux has said that I have a higher chance of getting sick based on my power and the fact that my body is working so hard just to keep moving, but that doesn’t mean that it’s guaranteed for me to get sick. There are a lot of guesses we can make, but nothing is really guaranteed. It mostly depends on how much I use my power at this point, I think.

Band is going well, and the track team is shaping up well again. We’re not really allowed to compete against other schools, since most places are concerned we will cheat, but we can still run against one another. I’m getting really good, and especially good at not falling into super speed all the time. It takes a little extra work sometimes, but I’m still running at a level with the rest of the team. It’s good for my concentration. And the band is really helping my air control, not to mention I’m getting a lot better. We’re going to have a concert someday soon. Maybe you could come up to see?

If you do come up, there are some people I’d like you to meet. I’ve talked to you about Zac and Robbie before, so you already know a lot about them, but I’ve also met a really nice girl. Her name is Jalen, and she’s really funny and smart and beautiful. I went to the Valentine’s Day dance with her, and we decided recently to start dating. I think you’d really like her if you met her. She goes to Hammel with me, so she does have a power—she can manipulate sound waves. Isn’t that so interesting?

How have you and Dad been recently? Has he been to the doctor about that ulcer yet? And did you ever get in for an eye exam? I know you were saying you were getting headaches, but when I talked to the nurse here she said it was probably just that you were having problems seeing. Take care of yourself.

I guess Dad was pretty happy when the Giants won the big game, huh? I know he’s never really been a Patriot fan. I love you, Mom. Tell Dad I love him, too. Maybe I’ll be home soon, and then we can talk again. Just keep me updated on how you and Dad are. If he’s feeling a lot better about everything, maybe I can bring Jay by, too. I just wouldn’t want to impose, you know. It wouldn’t be good for anyone.

Anyway, thanks for everything, and I’ll call you sometime this week.

Love,
Jonah

[Samuel Rixon]

29. Haunt

Knuckles rapping against the classroom door disturbed Sabine’s attention from her grading. The stern woman glanced towards the entrance, hoping whoever it was had a good reason for distracting her.

The person standing there caused her to arch a slender eyebrow.

“Mr. Rixon. What are you doing here?” With a little smile, Sam stopped leaning against the door, unfolding his arms. At twenty one, he was likely one of the oldest students to be graduating – certainly the oldest in this year’s graduating class, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He just smiled that lazy, easy smile as he approached her desk. Sabine kept a wary eye on him. Of all her students she had ever taught, he’d been the most frustrating. “... Shouldn’t you be packing your things?”

“I’m pretty much done. I just came to say goodbye.”

“You don’t need to do that,” she pointed out. She wasn’t exactly known for being warm, so this was surprising to her. What would possess Samuel Rixon of all people to come to her like this? Sam just shrugged.

“I was a pain in your ass, and I’m kinda sorry about that. Besides, I wanted to thank you, too. It’s only because of you that I’m graduating at all.” She’d pushed him, and pushed him, until he didn’t think he could take any more of training. And now, he had incredible control. He hadn’t set an unintentional fire in months, and he could extinguish anything he created. To prove his point, he held out his hand. A tiny flame sparked up and danced in his hand, swirling in pretty patterns, spiralling up his arm, across his shoulders, and down the other arm into the other hand, where he only had to concentrate before it went out again.

Sabine looked suitably impressed, though she wouldn’t voice it. “You might not believe me, but I’m proud of you.” Sam stared at her. She was right. He wasn’t going to believe her. “Behave yourself in the real world, Samuel.” He grinned, gave her a little salute, and, because he couldn’t leave her with that kind of image of their parting, he darted around the desk to give her a quick hug. Sabine scowled slightly, leaning away. “Thank you, Samuel. Now go. I have grading to do.”

“Anything you say,” Sam chirped as he let go. He made it to the door before glancing back. “Hey. Miss Sippycup?” His eyes danced with the spark of real mischief. Not everything had changed in three years. Sabine just stared at him, waiting for his point to be made. “... Seriously. Thanks.” And with that he scampered away to finish packing.

Sabine shook her head. There was one pain she was finally rid of.

Eighteen Years Later...

The trainer slipped the new training roster from her mailbox. A new influx of students looked like they would be starting soon. There were new names, all matched with their powers, so she’d know what to expect. A small stack of files accompanied the roster, one for each of the new recruits.

She scanned the list, pausing at one in particular.

Anthony Rixon – Shapeshifting

She arched an eyebrow. No. That boy was not going to haunt her forever. Rixon was a common enough name.

... Then again, she hadn’t had a good challenge in a long time. And who knew? The boy might have potential.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

135. Fortitude

John had avoided pacing for the majority of the night, but as the hours grew thin, so did his resolve. He was worried. Worried. Occasionally he would move to the large window to peek in at his tiny son in the cradle, his heart momentarily soothed by the sight of his jet black hair.
But then his stomach would tie in knots again. What of his mother?

She had lost consciousness shortly after the effects of the power suppressor had faded.
John finally broke down, pacing just a few rows in front of her room. He was asked not to go in, not to go in to hold his own wife’s hand. Preposterous.

When he married Clarisse, he had never thought this would happen. They were just set on adopting. The shock that had overcome them with the news had been bittersweet. Through the fear and uncertainty, Clarisse had been the rock. Somehow, whenever John questioned, she had the answer.

Not that he strength was gone, he couldn’t even be there to be strong for her. He owed her that much. Her fortitude deserved a reward, or at least a hand to hold.

Just as he had taken his seat again, his mouth set in a glower, a nurse appeared.

“Mister Thornton?” She asked gingerly. He looked to her with steely eyes and she swallowed, managing a tight smile.

“Your wife is awa—“

He blustered past her and into Clarisse’s room, where the woman’s moonlit skin was sickly with exhaustion and her bright eyes dim with stress. They sparked when she caught sight of her husband. She reached a trembling hand for him and managed a smile.

“How is he? How is he?” She murmured a few times over against John’s cheek as he bent to kiss her.

“…he’s strong. Like his Mother.”

[Vincent Verax]

5. Swear

"Are you sure we can trust him, Sam?" Spencer looked worried as she spoke quietly with Sam in the kitchen of their cozy little home, ignoring the loud noises and laughing coming from the living room.

"Totally! He ain't gunna do nothing bad. He's got a kid of his own, anyways." Sam put his arm around her reassuringly. "Tony'll be fine."

"I hope you're right." But one peek through the breakfast nook revealed Vincent and Tony playing with the ridiculously large stuffed animals that Vin had brought as presents for his godchild. And Tony was smiling from ear to ear as the lion and the tiger had a "fight to the death" on the living room carpet. Surely he'd be safe to trust with Tony for a couple hours, it had been a while since she'd had a date night with just her husband.

"I'm always right." Sam boasted, but the look that he got from Spencer suggested otherwise. "Uh, I mean, you're always right?" He quickly corrected, but she just laughed and grabbed his hand, leading him to standing in front of the pair of young (and not-so-young) boys.

"You have both of our numbers if you need anything, right?" Of course it was time for the motherly checklist, which Vincent sat through while occasionally nodding his head and grunting. After Spencer was finished, Vin stood up and clapped them both on the shoulder.

"Don'cha get yer panties 'n a bunch, I got this. Ain' nothin' bad gunna happen, I swear. Me an' Tony're gunna be good an' shit." He gave them both a little shove towards the door. "Now go an' have wild sex 'r whatever it is y'wanna do."

"We'll be back around 10. Make sure he's in bed by then." Spencer reminded, but Sam had taken over from there, and guided her out to the car.

Vincent returned to the floor with Tony once they were gone, the boy looking at him with bright eyes. "Mommy and Daddy are gone now?"

"Yeah, now s'time ta really party!" Vin's eyes gleamed impishly, hinting at all the trouble they were going to cause tonight.

And oh the messes that they made.

By 7, toys were strewn across the entire house. Stuffed animals were tossed on nearly every piece of furniture, action figures were sprawled across the counter top and one was apparently attempting suicide, halfway down the drain in the sink, and Lego blocks covered the floor. There was also an amazing Hot Wheels track that they had set up that went into practically every room and Nerf darts stuck to every possible flat surface.

By 8, they had gorged themselves on pizza and ice cream, then ran around the house screaming like banshees to help wind down from the sugar rush. Then they played zombie apocalypse, where they took turns messing with Spencer's makeup and tried to make each other look like horrifying undead monsters.

Around 8:30, they'd pushed the Lego mess into a corner and delved into the collection of video games, playing dozens of rounds of shoot-em-ups, fighting games, and Vin's favorite: MarioKart. In fact, they were so wound up in their gaming, that Vincent lost track of time. Spencer had told him to have Tony in bed before they got home, and when Vin finally caught a glance of the clock.

9:45

"Oh fuck!" Vin swore, dropping the controller and grabbing Tony around the middle. "We gotta get ya in bed before yer lame parents come home!"

"But I was winning!" Tony squealed, wiggling in his hold but to no avail. Uncle Vin was just too strong.

"An' we gunna get 'n trouble!" Vin warned as he plopped Tony down onto his bed, the boy going wide eyed at the prospect of getting scolded by Spencer. He wiggled his way under the covers, pulling them up to his chin and peering up at Vincent.

"Now we can't! I'm in bed!"

Vincent laughed. "Nope, now we're safe." Vincent fetched the giant tiger he'd brought and set it on the bed next to Tony, his small arms wrapping eagerly around his neck as he cuddled it.

"Uncle Vinvin, tell me a story?" It was obvious that all the activity from the night was finally catching up to the six year old, who yawned and rubbed at his face.

"Huh... well... did I ever tell ya that I tried ta get yer parents ta name ya Yoshi?" Vin asked, grinning.

"Really?!"

"Yeah, when y'was still in yer mom's belly. I tol' 'em it was a cool freakin' name an' they dinnit listen." He shook his head. No one understood how awesome of a baby name it was. Well, no one but little Tony.

"Why didn't they?" Tony pouted a little, burying his face against the tiger.

"Unno. Prolly 'cause yer dad's gay." Vin giggled to himself.

"Gay? What's that?"

"S'what yer dad is." He affectionately messed Tony's hair.

Neither of them heard the car pull into the driveway, nor the door opening, nor the shocked gasps from Spencer as she saw the state that her house was in. Nope, Vin was too busy telling Tony about the stupid things he and Sam had done when they were in school, and Tony despite being tired, was listening raptly and giggling at all the right moments.

Sam had such a cool kid. Really.

But Tony spied his parents over Vin's shoulder and eagerly waved. "Hi Momma! Guess what?"

Spencer looked a little exasperated, but she wasn't going to show it around her son. "What is it, honey?"

"Daddy's gay!"

"Anthony Michael Rixon!" Sam spluttered while Vincent dissolved into a fit of laughter, collapsing on the floor and holding his stomach.

"He is! Uncle Vin said so!"

Sam kicked his best friend while Spencer just facepalmed.

She was never leaving Tony alone with Vincent again. Ever.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#64 - Model

The medical student’s hands shook as he tried to shove the key into the lock in the front door. That was the problem with December in Manhattan; it was snowing, and he was freezing. He didn’t feel Josh nearby, so he couldn’t rely on his boyfriend to get the door for him. However, teeth chattering, he finally managed to steady his fingers long enough to fit key to lock and turn. He shoved the door open and ducked inside.

Packages were dropped on the floor as he immediately went to turn on the heater. The telepath hunched over the radiator, rubbing his hands together in a vain attempt to warm them. If he could only recover sensation, then he wouldn’t need to stop off at the emergency room and could instead enjoy the present he’d bought for Josh and himself.

Since the room wouldn’t heat quickly enough, he went to brew some coffee while he waited.

Between the coffee and patience, he eventually felt warm enough. Warmth was important; if he wasn’t warm, they would have to put the kibosh on his plans, and that meant his shopping trip this afternoon was a complete waste.

Coffee mug drained, feeling regained in his fingers, and his entire body feeling the right temperature, he disappeared into the bedroom to change.

Thankfully, everything fit.

Half an hour later, Josh returned to the apartment, teeth also chattering; his hair was flecked with white because it had begun to snow and he didn’t have a hat. The college student was relieved to find 1) the door unlocked, 2) coffee on to brew, and 3) that the apartment was warm and he wouldn’t have to wait. Sean was so thoughtful.

Speaking of the telepath. “Sean?” He called out, searching for his boyfriend. He had to be in, since nobody would leave coffee on without staying home. Well, Sean wouldn’t; Josh had done that before but he didn’t intend to do it.

In the bedroom. Josh smiled to himself, feeling the familiar tingle in his mind that came from his boyfriend’s mental “voice.”

“I’ll be in in a minute!” He promised, tearing off his gloves, jacket, and boots with alacrity. He didn’t want to track snow into the bedroom, after all.

When he had, he pushed open the bedroom door and found Sean lying across the bed. He wore a white robe styled to be a toga with a gilded pattern around the hem, with a red cape. In his hair was a crown of laurel leaves, or what appeared to be laurel leaves. Sandals were on his feet.

Beside the bed were a pile of props, including a trident, a net, and a shield, bought from the costume shop a few blocks over. Another pair of sandals, a pair of shorts.

Josh looked from the pile of props to Sean, back to the pile, before settling on his boyfriend again. He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s,” the telepath replied with an expression that could only be described as wicked.

Josh didn’t need to be told twice. He stripped down and reached for the toga.

[Aaron Walker]

80. “What’s wrong?”

“Hey um…Uncle Josef?”

“Hello…Harmony? What’s wrong?”

“Yeah..I…uh…you busy?”

The pause Harmony received from the other end of the phone wasn’t a welcome noise. Especially with the officer who had arrested her still scowling at her and rubbing the calf from where she had kicked him earlier that night. But really she figured it was more his fault than hers. After all, shoplifting wasn’t really that big of a deal as long as it was under thirty dollars. And it was totally the cops fault that the flat screen TV display got knocked over when he tried to chase her. She hoped he had a nice bruise in the morning.

“Harmony. It’s one thirty in the morning.”

“So?”

“I have…company over.”

“So?” Harmony said, starting to get a little frustrated. Calling her uncle, or anyone else, to ask for help wasn’t her idea of a fun time. And he wasn’t making it any easier on her. “Who couldn’t be more important than your own flesh and blood?” She hated herself for repeating one of her mother’s favorite lines, but maybe it would work.

“A friend.”

Harmony could hear music coming from the other end of the phone. And laughter. She glared around the police station. Great, she thought. He’s havin a merry ol’ time while I’m here with the scum of Pilot Ridge.

“Harmony? Hello? You there?”

“Stop yelling,” she yelled, even though Josef had barley risen his voice. “I’m not deaf.”

“I asked where you are.”

“Oh…I’m…in the main part of town,” she said. “And I need a ride back to campus.” For about the millionth time that night, she cursed the fact that her powers control was still lacking. She wanted nothing more than to teleport back to Hammel. But the odds of her actual ending up there were not very high.

“Are particular street?”

Harmony took a deep breath. She could hear the slight strain in her uncle’s voice already. “The…police station?”

“You’re mother is going to kill me.”

“Yeah…right after she’s buried me. How about we don’t tell her?”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#54 – Screwdriver

Sean didn’t have many skills, but he had watched his father with some of the other creations, and he had studied everything the man had done. Sean had looked up to his father, had wanted to be just like him, to the extent that was possible given that he wasn’t flesh and blood. That meant he was good with tools; not enough to create but enough to do regular repairs.

This was a blessing because he couldn’t wait for the repairmen to come by; he couldn’t call the repairmen over this problem.

It was embarrassing; it was private.

Joshua had an image to maintain, and Sean didn’t want to undermine that. Thankfully, they had remembered to lock the door.

The flat looked like any other flat. Not like Hopkins’ workshop, but that had been a full house, and his father had space to spare. Joshua’s apartment was smaller, but it was nicely furnished, with all of the furniture that flesh and blood men might need: a table and chairs, a sofa, a dresser and closet full of clothing, beds to sleep on.

The clockwork man knelt by the bed in the main bedroom, with some salvaged tools beside him. Joshua lay prone, unmoving. If only this had required simple winding, the task would be over and done with. Unfortunately, his key was stuck, and Sean blamed himself.

Sean blamed himself, because he was bigger than Joshua and heavier than Joshua was, and he had been the one pressing the other mechanical man into the mattress. He had been the one forcing Joshua to exert himself at a faster pace than he was used to, causing his gears to unwind faster than he calculated for. He was the one putting pressure on Joshua’s key when it had grinded to a halt.

Joshua’s eyes had closed and his face had disconcertingly gone slack; then he had stopped moving. Sean had, at first, flashbacked to when his father hadn’t woken the morning he had left his father’s home, the morning of the day that Joshua had found him and taken him into his home. It took him a moment to calm himself, to remind himself that Joshua wasn’t dead and couldn’t die; that he merely required winding.

Rolling him over had been the easy part. Then the key wouldn’t budge.

As Sean dug the screwdriver into the wind-up man’s back for leverage, he was silently grateful to his father, yet again, for giving him perpetual machinations. His father had been the wisest man to ever live.

Digging the screwdriver in deep, Sean tried to give the key a spin, but it still wouldn’t move even an inch. The clockwork man sighed in frustration. “Please turn,” he whispered to the key. “Just one turn.”

Negotiating and pleading with the key was not an effective strategy.

“I’m sorry,” Sean apologized, as he dug the screwdriver in ever deeper. If only apologies were sufficient to make the key budge. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Or to force the windup man into anything harmful.

The clockwork man had only wanted to be close to someone, now that his father was no longer alive. It was unreasonable to think he was cursed and that everyone he cared about would be hurt; unreasonable for no other reason than for the fact that his father didn’t make mistakes and was incapable of doing anything less than perfectly. Robert Hopkins wouldn’t have created a mechanical man only capable of bringing about doom; he had been incapable of even the slightest bit of cruelty or even amoral fascination.

Which meant that the clockwork man was being overly emotional. Quite possible, since his father had imbued him with the ability to experience the full spectrum of emotions, imagination, and thought processes. Quite possible, since his father had made him fully human inside of these clockwork machinations and metallic exterior.

Then Sean pressed a little too hard and the screwdriver broke off, leaving the metal rod jammed beside the key.

The clockwork man blinked in disbelief at the screwdriver handle he still gripped, and then at the jagged makeshift wedge clogging the area around Joshua’s key. He began to doubt that tonight could get any worse.

The clockwork man turned toward the pile of tools, searching for a pair of pliers. When he emerged triumphantly, he brought the tips to the broken part of the screwdriver, clamped down tightly and tugged. After two firm yanks, the rod was no longer stuck.

Which meant that he was back to square one.

Sean examined the remaining tools, searching for a sturdier wedge, but none was available. Anything sturdier than the screwdriver had been also was too thick to fit. Tools were out, it seemed, unless he wanted to try to remove the key entirely, wind using an artificial substitute, and then reattach Joshua’s key once all was said and done.

Considering how well every other endeavor this evening had been, he decided against it. With his luck, he would have broken Joshua forever.

Sean couldn’t bear that thought.

The clockwork man looked around the flat for inspiration, hoping to spark another idea. Some sort of lubricant might work, to grease the key enough to make it budge. If it would just budge, winding the other man would be easy enough.

He pat Joshua’s unmoving arm and rose from the bed. “This is not how I had wanted to repay you,” he said apologetically. Then he went to search for an oil can.

He had to turn the flat almost inside out, but he found an oil can, one that was half-full (unlike the first two which had been devastatingly empty). Sean brought it back to the bed and squirted a bit under Joshua’s key. Then the clockwork man hoped this would work. Carefully, he grasped the windup man’s key and gave it a turn.

Miracle of miracles, it moved. It actually moved. Ecstatic, Sean made short work of turning the key repeatedly, over and over until it would turn no more because Joshua was wound completely. Then he rolled the other man onto his side.

Slowly, Joshua’s eyes fluttered open, his slack expression returning to the one of excitement his face had held before this disaster. Joshua took in the position curiously, and then looked into the clockwork man’s worried features. “Is something wrong?” He queried.

Sean smiled at him and leaned in to brush their foreheads together. “Not anymore,” he promised.

They would be more careful in the future.

[Mia Keystone]

38. Common Sense,

or

the texts Mia sent to her roommate/friend Jonah after he walked out of their apartment having almost eaten a frozen mouse because someone had forgotten to label them,

or

the texts Mia sent her roommate/friend Jonah after he left and she got chest pains.

or

why people should listen to their big brothers


Come back to the apartment.

I need you. Critically important

I realize my actions may have caused you some distress.

Please respond.

Where are you?

Why do you persist in ignoring my texts?

We're out of milk.

The land lady gave us some nondairy creamer.

And orange shortbreads.

I don’t like shortbreads but I will keep them.

Do you like shortbreads?

I have a new theory.

To test it, I will need your assistance.

I called the garage twice. You're not there.

Your sister's on a date.

She's not nearly as understanding about interruptions as she used to
be.

The average car is made up of 5 to 7 thousand parts.

I suppose you already knew that.

Your mother is at a conference in LA. She insists you have not contacted her.

Your sister is eating the lamb. She told me to stop texting.

How does one define a fluttery feeling in the heart?

All of these websites are unconscionably vague.

Ollie says I am not suffering a heart attack.

A trained medical perspective would be helpful.

My brother is not a doctor, or even CPR trained.

How does a heart differ from a motor?

I miss your voice.

What are you doing now?

I Will Always Love you keeps playing on the radio.

It’s because Whitney Huston died.

Did you know she’d died?

This song is seriously hurting my head.

I turned off the radio.

I made more coffee

Silence is even more boring without you.

How much space do you need?

This is my fourth standard drink.

My hypothesis may require a fifth to parse.

Please be careful.

If you were to die of a myocardial infarction or through other means, I
think I would lose my ability to function.

I can't focus.

Alcohol isn't helping.

Would you be disappointed if I tried something stronger?

Yes, you certainly would.

Well what with the heart palpitations it is not a good idea anyway.

Your coffee is grown cold.

Again.

Perhaps you are ignoring me because I don't compliment you enough?

My brother says I should say nicer things to you.

You aren't nearly as idiotic as most people.

And you are an excellent mechanic.

You have a very expressive face.

Ollie supports my assertion that your smile is significantly more
appealing than the average.

He also says hi.

I find every part of you to be attractive to varying degrees, though this is merely an uncorroborated opinion unsupported by data and thus meaningless.

Are you planning to move out?

You are the only flatmate for me.

Cable can't adjust to any more new people.

I understand you're angry, just please, don't leave.

I went to the pub, Mia. That doesn’t mean I’m moving out.

On my way back now. In a cab.

JONAH!

The second sentence of your second text lacked a pronoun but I accept it anyway.

You speak mostly in numbers.

An astute observation. My brother thinks I’m in love with you. What are your thoughts?

In order to test this theory, he suggests we go to a restaurant or appropriate venue.

Unless a new bounty comes up, of course.

You are not working on Thursday night, correct?

Jonah?

I’m here, How about we talk about this at the apartment?

Acceptable. I made coffee.

[Gregory Strickland]

39. Goodnight

It was springtime. Greg and Nate had just moved to Pilot Ridge. After Sean said how much he liked being here, the people, the job, Greg just had to check it out. He and Nate were getting up there in years, and while they had plenty of friends in New York, they had better friends here.

“Yes, I think this will do just fine,” Nate said, unlocking the doors to the house, letting the fresh air pass through.

Greg didn’t like the new house, but Nate did. The shingles were all wrong, it looked structurally sound though, and that was the important part.

Picking up the newspaper left on their front doorstep, Greg picked through the ads, the headlines, and then grinned.

“I’m feeling a little bit rambunctious today,” he said, tossing the paper on the kitchen table. “There’s a fair in town today, maybe we could check it out? I know how much you love roller coasters,” he said. Nate smiled softly. He was afraid of the things.

“I thought we could unpack first,” he said. Always the sensible one. Greg rifled through a few boxes without taking anything out, until he opened a box labelled ‘Kitchen’ and grinned. “Jackpot,” he said, taking out the coffee maker, and setting it on the kitchen counter. Just how long would it be before every square inch of this space was taken up? The coffee maker needed to be the first thing up.

Nate looked at Greg and shook his head. “We don’t have coffee grounds,” he said, unpacking a box with the toaster in it. Greg sighed. “We’ll have to make a list of things we need,” he said, staring at the boxes now. There were many of them. Some had more kitchen utensils, others had random things like vases and picture frames.

Greg wondered if he was getting a headache though. Everything seemed fuzzy, and like he was moving in fast forward. Suddenly they were leaving the house, and walking through the fair grounds, hand in hand. Greg smiled, gripping Nate tighter. He wouldn’t complain that his husband abandoned being neat and tidy to go have some fun.

“Only the merry go round, I promise,” Greg said, holding his hand to his heart in a solemn oath. Nate smiled back at him and they shared a kiss.

Fast forward.

They were entering the house now. The kitchen was on the opposite end of the house, the counter tops made of grey steel instead of marble. Greg panicked, holding onto the doorknob.

“What’s wrong?” Nate asked.

“Nothing, I must be tired.”

And just like that, they were heading to bed. The fair must have made him lightheaded. The coffee maker was still exactly where he had left it on the counter top. Greg lay on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling. Confused, Nate switched off the light and Greg found himself plunging through the darkness.

“Goodnight,” came Nate’s soft, far away voice.

Greg scrambled to his feet from the floor, hitting his head on the bed frame in the process. He peeked over the bed, no one was there. He squinted through the sunlight as he crawled back into the bed in Josh’s house, touching the spot where Nate used to be.

[Levi Xu]

52. Encore

"Can you give him more of....whatever he's on?" Nomi spoke quietly to the doctor, glancing inside the room where her brother was trying to sleep. He was propped up on his side, and kept shifting. "It hurts him to move, and it hurts when he stays still. He says the button isn't helping."

"He's on a metered medication; the button is actually a placebo."

Evan finally spoke up, having kept quiet through the whole discussion so far. Despite their engagement, Nomi was the only one able make decisions. "Can you give him a real button then? I had one when I lost my arm."

"No, I can't. We can try giving him something to help him sleep soon though. And he really is lucky; he's in pain because his nerves weren't destroyed." The doctor checked his clipboard, then added, "I'll be back in about twenty minutes. We'll give him something then so he can sleep."

The other two nodded, and said nothing to each other as they entered Levi's room. A few nights earlier, they'd declared an uneasy, unspoken truce when they'd both headed to the interpreter's apartment. Nomi had taken one look at her little brother's bedroom before claiming the couch, and Evan hadn't argued. For Levi, they were not going to fight.

Nomi came and sat on the edge of the bed. "Levi, do you want to talk to Noah? We can call now before he leaves for school." She reached for his uninjured hand--the one with the ring--and held it. "He wants to hear from you."

"No, jie jie. Not now." Levi murmured, and didn't even open his eyes. "Everything hurts."

"I know. The doctor said he'll give you something so you can sleep."

Evan had a hard time watching the scene in front of him. It was his fault Levi was here. If he had just understood what had happened the year before, they'd both be in New York right now, safe and happy. He stuck his hand in his pocket, nervously waiting for a good time to speak. But when he touched the mp3 player in his jacket, he had an idea. "Hey, I uh. I've got this." The architect pulled it out by the headphones. "Do you want to listen to some music until the doctor comes?"

Levi turned his head slightly, but kept his eyes closed. "Okay, Evan. But my ears are ringing."

"Maybe it will help." Over the years, he'd collected a ton of playlists, always adding more and carrying the songs over from computer to computer and player to player. He hadn't listened to the "Feel Better" playlist since Hammel, when he'd been in physical therapy. He stuck one earbud in his fiancé's ear and after making sure it was set low enough it wouldn't hurt him, and pressed play.

Levi smiled slightly as the music came on. He vaguely recognized the song playing, even if he hadn't heard it in years. It actually did help, at least until the doctor came.

The next morning, when Evan and Nomi came in, Levi was awake and listening to it again, and crying. "Evan....you kept it? All these years, and you kept it?"

Nomi turned on Evan. "What did you do?"

******

"Evan, I know it hurts. But if you don't keep practicing this, you're not going to be able to use the prosthetic right." The therapist patted the teenager's uninjured shoulder as she guided him through the exercise. Once he finished, she patted him again. "You're going to have to do fourteen more. How about you put on your music again? That helped yesterday."

Evan sullenly nodded as he stood and went over to his sweatshirt to pull his ipod from his pocket. He fumbled to get the earbuds in using only his left hand, but once he did, and pressed play, a familiar voice came on, instantly calming him. It rambled for a little, begged him not to laugh, then started to sing.

"L...is for the way you look at me. O, is for the only one, I see...."

[Midori Hawkins]

33. Sharp

When the doorbell rang, the last person Midori had expected to see was the one responsible for the noise. Looking out the little peep hole, she paused a moment before opening the door. Zachary stood there, looking the same as always. Artfully dishevelled, winsome (and somehow devious at the same time, she’d never figure out how), and...

Wait. Why the hell was he on her doorstep?

“What are you doing here?” Zach grinned and leaned in the doorway.

“Aren’t I allowed to see my favorite sister? And nephew. For chrissakes, kiddo, you’ve got to learn to share.” Without waiting for an invitation, he sauntered in, looking around and letting out a low whistle. “That kidnapping gig must pay well.” Mii closed her eyes. There was a reason she greatly preferred Corbin’s company to Zach’s.

“Recruiting, Zach. Not kidnapping.”

“Whatever. Where’s the kid?”

“Tory’s sleeping.”

“No, not him. The other kid.”

“... Please don’t tell me you mean Eli.” The knowing look in her brother’s eyes made her inwardly cringe. “If you can’t be civil, you’re leaving.”

“I’m not doing anything!” He smiled innocently and ran his hands over a fluffy blanket hanging from the back of the sofa.

“Then why are you here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.” He shrugged, jamming his hands in his pockets. “I had a date in Burlington. Thought I’d stop in to say hi.”

“You could have called,” she muttered, pulling the blanket from under him. “Tory only just went down, and I don’t want to wake him up.”

“That’s fine. I can entertain myself.” Leaning over the back of the sofa, Zach grinned. “And you didn’t answer my question. Where’s the k - ... Eli?”

“He’s walking his dog.” Thankfully. Maybe she could get rid of Zach before they came back. She could hope, anyway.

“That’s too bad. Baby’s sleeping and Eli’s out. Guess it’s just you and me, then.” Again, without any kind of invitation, he flopped down on the sofa. Innocent as ever, he patted the cushion beside him. “C’mon. Come visit with your big brother.”

Midori rolled her eyes before perching on the very edge of the seat, keeping a wary eye on her brother. Things were so different between her siblings. With Corbin, she would have welcomed him with open arms, and wouldn’t have hesitated in sitting close to him, or even letting him into Tory’s nursery. But Zach? Zach was a wild card. And she didn’t always trust him.

“Sooooooo.” The look on his face didn’t bode well. “Y’ got laid recently?” Mii’s cheeks colored.

“Zachary, that is none of your business.” He chuckled.

“That has to be a yes. Who was it? Your babydaddy? Some random guy? Or was it Eeeeli?” The mere suggestion of sleeping with her best friend made her want to throttle her brother.

“Shut up. It wasn’t anyone. And if you’re going to be like this, I should kick you out.”

“But you won’t, because we’re family.”

“I don’t think I care right now.”

“Mii?”

“What?”

“If you got laid more often, you wouldn’t blush so much.”

“Oh my god, Zach. Shut up before you wake Tory up.”

“I’m not going to wake him up!”

“Yes you are.” She was working to keep her voice low, but even she was slowly losing her temper with him. As a consequence, her voice was starting to betray her. “Just. Shut. Up.” And he did, for a few moments. Enough to look like he was behaving when Eli came in from his walk. He blinked, somewhat surprised that they had company. Yes, it was technically Mii’s house, but it felt odd to have someone else there. Especially without warning.

“Look what the dog dragged in! How are you doing, kiddo?” Eli didn’t look pleased at the nickname, but he answered all the same as he took Zero’s leash off.

“Fine, Zachary. Yourself?”

“Good, good. Was in Burlington and figured I should drop in to see how you two were making out.” Mii shot him a sharp glare. This was not the time, or the place, to be cracking those kinds of jokes. It didn’t seem to deter him. “I mean, Mii’s not really known for her virtues, so...” Mii hissed, swinging her fist at his shoulder, not letting him finish that thought.

Eli surprised himself when his jaw clenched. He knew Zach was crude. Mii had told him that, many times. But it didn’t make it any less unpleasant to hear firsthand. Had he always talked that way to his sister?

“Zach, you need to go home,” Mii growled out, only to end up groaning in frustration when the first drawn out sobs came down the hall. “Thanks a lot,” she hissed at him. She wasn’t even thinking about Eli as she bolted down the hall to soothe Tory. In all honesty, she was just a little bit glad to get away from Zach.

Eli would be okay for a few moments on his own, right?

She heard some muffled talking as she rocked Tory back to sleep, but she didn’t pay it much attention. She was so focused on getting Tory back to sleep, and trying to get Zach’s awful words out of her head that she didn’t even notice when things went quiet.

Once Tory was back to sleep, she ventured back out to the living room. Eli was curled at one end of the sofa, Zero at the other, both watching the news. “... Eli? Where’s Zach?”

“He left,” was all her housemate offered. She stared at him.

“He just... left? Like that?” Not that she was complaining. Eli shifted so that there was room for her as well. “What did you say to him?” He shrugged.

“Nothing. He had to go.”

Eli didn’t lie often. He didn’t like it. But even he knew there were some instances where it was far better to cover the truth.

~

Eli didn’t like being angry. But he also didn’t like the older man’s tone. When he decided that Mii was far enough out of earshot, he approached Zachary and pulled himself out of his usual slouch. “I know she’s your sister, but she’s my best friend, and you will not speak about her like that.”

Zachary had looked amused at first. “Yeah? Or what?” Eli’s gaze narrowed just a tiny bit.

“You don’t want to know about the many different things I could threaten you with. I would suggest you leave, before she comes back and you upset her any further.” He could see in Zach’s face that he was aware of Eli’s meta status. But he was sure neither of Mii’s brothers knew what his power actually was. It took a solid moment of contemplation before Zach seemed to decide that it wasn’t worth it to stick around and battle it out.

Eli was sure that Mii would forgive him. If he actually told her.

[Chase Campbell]

62. Marsupial

After suffering the indignities of being a pregnant man, Chase had honestly been thankful when it was over. Yes, it was what most people were calling an experience, and he’d agree with that completely. Of course, he had his own words for it too. Hell. Humiliating. Insane.

Now that Rhys was born, and a few weeks old, he figured that all the humiliating moments (besides having no idea what Rhys wanted and was bawling his head off, only to have James take him and fix it in moments), were all over.

Apparently not, he came to realize as he opened the package his mother had sent them.

There was the usual stuff she sent every so often. A few new Diamondbacks items, including a replacement for his well-worn hoodie, and a cute little onesie he actually smiled at. Some things for Niko, and James, and then...

He blinked.

What in the hell was it supposed to be? There were straps. And a pouch-y... thing.

“What is that, Chase?” James walked by to investigate (and to make sure Chase wasn’t making too big of a mess.) Chase shrugged and pulled the thing out in all it’s strappy, weird glory.

“I have no idea.” He offered it to his husband. It took James milliseconds to identify it.

“It’s a carrier. For Rhys.” Chase arched an eyebrow.

“A carrier.”

“Yes. Here. Give me your hands.” The trainer obeyed, against his better judgement. Whatever that thing was, he wasn’t sure it would even work. How were you supposed to carry a baby in it? Besides, Rhys had a carrier. The big one that doubled as his car seat. “There.” James smiled at his handiwork and went to get Rhys from his playpen. The baby squealed happily and latched onto his father’s shirt collar.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Chase already felt odd enough with the ‘carrier’ attached to him. But now James was going to test it? Couldn’t they test it with something else? Like Milo? What if it broke? He didn’t want his baby to drop like a rock through fabric.

“You’re going to carry Rhys.” The panicked look Chase gave him earned him a look. “It’s fine. It’s safe, I promise.” Rhys just giggled as James set him snuggly in the pouch. “See?” James grinned and took the baby’s hands. “You’re safe and sound, because your Daddy’s got you.”

Chase still looked uncertain. “... What would anyone actually need this thing for?”

“It’s good for going for walks, so you don’t have to bring his stroller. Or grocery shopping. It keeps your hands free.”

“If you say so.” Quite honestly, Chase wasn’t sure if he’d use the thing. But Rhys seemed content enough to snuggle down in the pouch, watching Milo stroll across the back of the couch.

Niko came barreling out of his room just then, a workbook in his hand. “Daaaaaad. I need help with my home - ... Chase?” He looked up at his father, his head cocked. A little smile spread across his face. “You kind of look like a kangaroo!”

James couldn’t help laughing at that, which caused Rhys to start giggling as well, his little hands waving. Nikki started giggling too, and even Chase had to give in at that point.

Once they were all calmed down again, Chase gently pulled Rhys out of the pouch and managed to get the thing off with one hand. It got banished to the kitchen counter for the moment as he snuggled his son closer to him. “We don’t need a pouchy thing to keep you safe, big guy. Me and your dad can do that all on our own.”

[Samuel Rixon]

31. Dalek

“Tony, it’s just for a few hours. You’ll be fine.”

“But Mom! I had plans today!”

“I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just a few hours, I promise.”

“... Can I at least have a friend over?”

“Yes, fine. Just look after Leah, okay?”

“Fiiiiiine.”

“Tonyyyyyyyyy.” Leah grinned as she toddled his way. “Play with me!” Unwilling to be distracted from the television, Tony tossed her a stuffed animal.

“Play with that.”

“Noooooooooo. Tonyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Play. With. ME!” The six year old tugged on her older brother’s arm.

“Play what, Leah?”

“Puzzles!” He sighed. This was going to be a very, very long few hours. If it was just him, at least.

“Fine, go get a puzzle.” Leah squealed happily and ran back to her room. While she was busy, Tony took out his cell phone and started texting his best friend.

Beeeern. Im bbysitting my lame sister. Come help.

Why should I?

Because ur both girls!

I was raised in a house full of men, Tigerbutt.

So? Lee likes you!

... Fine. I’ll ask Ba to drive me over.

I fucking love u Bern. Ur the best. <3<3<3

I know.

This was the best idea ever. With Bern in the house, watching Leah didn’t seem nearly as daunting. Besides, she seemed really good with the little girl. She helped them do a pony puzzle, and chased her through the house as Tony raced after them as a tiger.

The three of them finally flopped down in front of the television, a pile of girls and fur, all giggling and panting. Tony shifted back just long enough to declare it movie time, and grabbed a DVD from his collection. After choosing a disc and episode at random, he curled back on the couch, one arm around each girl.

Bern was interested in the old episode of Doctor Who (though she had to point out that her Ba still considered Dr Campbell to be an alien), but Leah kept burrowing her face in her brother’s side. He didn’t clue in until she turned to peek at the screen, only to scream and scramble away to her room.

“... What was that about?” He looked to Bern for advice. She gave his arm a little smack.

“She was scared of the Dalek thing.”

“... Oh.”

“Go make it better.”

“Why me?”

“She’s your sister, doofus.”

“Fiiine.”

When Spencer and Sam finally made it home, the two teenagers and the little girl were sitting on the floor amid hundreds of puzzle pieces. Spencer was surprisingly relieved.

“Mama!”

“Hi baby. Did you have a good time with Tony and Bernadette?” Leah nodded eagerly, with no mention of the scary show her brother had put on.

There was a good reason for that.

Toby wasn’t the only one whose silence could be bought with candy.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

((OOC: For the sake of everyone in the universe, this is not canon. That said, I have no further apologies.))

#6 – Graphic

Perhaps it was because Sean Neville felt responsibility for everyone around him, due to the telepathy. Perhaps it was because the telepath believed that everyone should have proper instruction for a honeymoon night, and this was the last possible opportunity to speak alone before the vows. Perhaps it was because the telepath doubted he would ever need to have this conversation with someone else, because of the life decisions in his own family. Perhaps he was used to his conversation between his years at Hammel and the fact that he and Eleanor had discussed this topic in detail since she was young. Perhaps, just perhaps, Sean Neville was far more vindictive than anyone had actually believed, and this was revenge for the years Rhys spent torturing his daughter and her best friend.

However, the sexagenarian psychiatrist had cornered Rhys at his bachelor party, inexplicably since he hadn’t been given serious invitation. Yes, the fathers of the Miracle Babies had all been invited as was custom, but Rhys and Toby hadn’t expected them to actually go. Yet, the telepath had, and with a foreboding “May I have a chat?” had whisked the groom-to-be off to a private room.

“What’s this about?” Rhys Campbell asked, once the psychiatrist had seated himself to spare his knees.

“On the eve of your wedding, your fathers and I agreed it would be beneficial to you to have some advice. They have most everything covered, but for the sake of tradition, I’m here to provide you with the last bit you might need.”

“Which would be?”

“The Birds and the Bees.”

Rhys blanched. “I already know all that stuff. I mean, I sat through your lecture at Hammel.” Not to mention that he and Dani had already-

“I’m aware of the fact that you’re sexually active,” Sean replied, tapping his temple with his forefinger. That was one of the fringe “benefits” of telepathy. “I’m also not here to pass judgment or from some deluded impression that marriage is a prerequisite for sexual activity, enjoyment, or fulfillment. After all, I’ve never been married, and I can assure you that I’ve probably had more sex than you could ever hope to have.”

Rhys stared at his “uncle” in thinly-veiled horror. He didn’t need to know that; he didn’t want to know that. Uncle Sean and Uncle Josh were in their seventies, and oh Dear Lord he couldn’t get it out of his head, make it stop, make it stop.

“Welcome to my world.” The telepath took a sip of the scotch he had grabbed from the open bar on his way to finding the young man; he was unperturbed, utterly serene.

Rhys’s face flushed and he looked down at his feet. He muttered, “Then we really don’t have much to talk about. I mean, since you know...”

The telepath took another sip of his scotch. “I’m not here to discuss mechanics. I would hope that you have a firm grasp of those by now, otherwise you shouldn’t have graduated, and Dani would have every right to be quietly horrified.” Or not, as was the case with Dani’s personality.

“Then what...?” Rhys’s voice trailed off, because, upon reflection, he didn’t actually want to know.

The psychiatrist steadily gazed into the young man’s eyes. “Do you know what the difference between mediocre sex and great sex is?”

“What?”

Sean didn’t flinch; instead, he calmly repeated his question. “Do you know the difference between mediocre sex and great sex?”

Nobody had ever asked Rhys Campbell that question, definitely not somebody who could read his mind and know everything he had done. The confident, sometimes arrogant, young man wouldn’t let that stop him, however, and thus he replied. “Other people have mediocre sex; I have great sex.”

The twitch of the telepath’s lips was far more disconcerting than a frown of disapproval or a lecture would have been. “When Eleanor went off to college, I told her that anyone who thinks he’s God’s gift to women should be avoided at all costs. I know she passed that on to Dani. I also know that she passed my other tidbits of advice on to her.”

“Which would be?” Why did he just ask that? He didn’t really want to know. It was the challenge; it had to be the challenge...

“That oral sex is a two-way street and any hesitation or unwillingness to give while coupled with expectations to receive made one irredeemably dump-worthy. End of story.” Another sip of scotch, and then the telepath swirled the remaining amber liquid in his glass. “That role play is healthy. That certain kinks and fetishes are to be indulged while others are to be rebuffed, and never outside of one’s comfort zone. That said, that if your future wife wants to take you over her knee and spank you until your backside turns as red as your face is right now, I’d recommend indulging her.”

Rhys’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “If she what?”

“I’m making a point.”

“She wants to do what?!” How had this never come up before?

“Rhys Grant Campbell, calm yourself or else people will hear you and undoubtedly want to know what’s gotten you so excited. I’m sure you don’t want Tobias, Tony, or Carwyn to get involved in this.”

Son of a –

“Language.” It was reflexive, and the telepath made no apologies for correcting the young man’s thoughts, given that they were in direct response to the conversation in which they were engaged.

“Great sex comes from a pattern of caring between partners, as well as that genuine pleasure you gain only from your spouse’s pleasure. Great sex comes from willingness to discover together, and the ability to discuss anything with your spouse, even if you don’t actually do it, because nobody should be shunned for being curious. Great sex might not always be spicy, but it remains exciting because nobody excites you the way your spouse does. Great sex is great, because it’s never a chore.” The telepath finished off the rest of the liquor in his glass.

“Why are you telling me this?” Rhys asked, his voice barely audible because he was too horrified.

“Because I believe everyone is capable of having, and deserves to have, great sex. As often as they and their partners want to.” Sean set his glass down and folded his hands in his lap. “I also think that it’s a sin when sex becomes a chore. There are plenty of reasons to not want to have sex; there are no acceptable reasons to have mediocre sex.”

“It isn’t mediocre!” Rhys snapped immediately, and then he stopped himself. Was he really defending his prowess to his telepathic “uncle” at his own bachelor party? Really?

“It isn’t all about you,” the telepath replied steadily. “I expect you know that when you let your ego cool a bit.”

Rhys blinked at the old man, his expression a mixture of horror and defeat. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I care about Dani and about you; as I said, nobody deserves to have mediocre sex.” The telepath tilted his head slightly to the side, his expression one of contemplation. “However it might feel to you right now, this isn’t about humiliation. This is an important, heart-to-heart chat that needs to be done before you and Dani jet off to Hawaii tomorrow night.”

“Yeah, sure.” The psychiatrist was right about one thing: this was completely humiliating. The only upside, if there was an upside, was the fact that Sean Neville was the only telepath in attendance, so after he left, assuming that he left quietly, nobody would know what he’d wanted to discuss with Rhys. The groom-to-be could pretend that it was a question about place setting or something equally trivial.

Sean rose from his chair and reached out to pat Rhys on the shoulder. “Take what I said to heart. If you do, then you’ll make Dani a very happy woman, and both of you will have a long, happy marriage.”

Rhys couldn’t help it; he asked, “And if I don’t?”

“I’ll know about it,” the telepath said in a matter-of-fact tone, reaching up to tape his temple again. “And I’ll come talk to you again. With my charts. I’m sure you don’t want that.”

Rhys didn’t.

“That’s what I thought.” Sean offered Rhys a smile and then walked toward the door. “Have a nice time tonight; I’ll see you at the Church first thing in the morning.”