When Marcus entered the apartment, he noticed two very unusual things. The first: boxes were stacked by the door; the second: Baird wasn't there to greet him. Normally the blond would make an effort to say something, even if either men weren't exactly big on expressing emotions. Marcus kicked off his boots and went to the back of the apartment towards the master bedroom. If Baird wasn't plopped in front of the TV, he was normally found in bed with his laptop or a magazine complaining about the latest tech news.

The bedroom light was on but Baird wasn't there. Marcus did, however, notice something different. The bedspread was new. Two days ago the bed was decorated with a plain green sheet set; now it was a blue silk set with an exotic comforter on top. What the hell did he buy now?

"Don't touch that!" Baird snapped from the doorway. Marcus turned to find him with a magazine tucked under his arm. "You'll leave fingerprints."

"Are you serious?"

"It's pure Ostrian silk. I had these sheets imported two days ago and if I find your fingerprints on them, I'll skin you. Or at least try. Point is, this shit was expensive so don't touch."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "So now we have a useless bed?"

"Oh no, I can sleep in it after careful decontamination."

"And where will I sleep?"

"The couch?" Baird suggested. He made it sound like the most logical answer in the world.

Suppressing his anger, Marcus took a deep breath and relaxed. He knew what he was getting into with Baird; he had warned Marcus in the beginning that he was a little crazy about certain things. Crazy wasn't the word—anal was surprisingly accurate. Ever since Marcus had moved in, Baird had set careful guidelines about how the apartment was to be used and if anything was out of place, he knew and he would complain about it. It was starting to ride on Marcus's last nerve.

"Is there anything I can touch?" he asked. Out of three bedrooms, two baths, a spacious kitchen and dining area and living room, Marcus had to bargain and work for his place. The first time he was here, Baird wouldn't even let him sit on the couch. He couldn't tell if Baird was obsessive, germaphobic, a perfectionist—or worse, all three.

After a moment of careful consideration Baird replied, "You know those dishes in the back of the cabinet, the one with the red engravings?"

"The Shaoshi set," Marcus said. He actually liked those dishes and wondered why Baird preferred to use a cheap white set.

"Yeah, one-of-a-kind, hand molded and painted. My mother bought them as a housewarming gift. Break 'em for all I care."

Marcus shook his head and went to dig them out of the cabinet. "I was planning to use them for Thursday."

Baird paused in his appreciation of the new sheets and followed Marcus to the kitchen. "Thursday?" he asked, visibly panicked. "What's happening?"

This was one conversation he didn't want to have. Baird had to find out eventually, especially when they showed up at the door, but mentioning it was hard for Marcus. He wasn't even on great terms with his own family; he couldn't imagine the shit on Baird's side. Someone had to be the peace broker if they were going to continue the relationship. As it was, Marcus felt more like a roommate than boyfriend.

"I invited our families for dinner."

"What?"

Marcus turned to face Baird and leaned his backside against the counters. "We're living together now. You've met my mom, I haven't seen any proof your family even exists, and my dad wants to talk to you."

Baird opened and closed his mouth several times,almost speaking but only managing a few strangled noises. Finally he threw his hands up. "Your dad wants to speak to me? Like I'm your degenerate boyfriend that'll poison your perfection? God, you invited my mother behind my back. She'll tell Dad and then—guess what, buddy—you have to deal with the shit storm it brings. You couldn't pay me to touch it with a ten foot pole."

"It'll be fine," Marcus replied and returned to hunting down the fine Shaoshi. "Whatever happens, your ass will be at that table."

"What if I have to work overtime?"

"You're coming to dinner and that's fucking final, got it?"

He felt Baird roll his eyes. "Whatever. Don't expect to sleep in my bed for a long time, asshole."

"Yeah, love you too."

Thursday evening, Marcus had wrangled Baird into the kitchen to prepare the simple dinner Marcus envisioned. He put Baird in charge of deboning the leg of lamb and getting it in the oven while he sliced potatoes. It only took ten minutes for him to realize that Baird had no idea what he was doing.

"What do I put this thing in?" Baird asked.

Marcus set down his knife and potato as Baird hefted the meat in one hand uncertainly. "I thought you knew how to cook."

"Yeah, noodles and shit. I come from a family that hasn't had to cook their own meals for ten generations. Now show me how to do this."

"You haven't even trimmed the fat."

"What does that mean?"

In all honesty, Marcus was surprised that Baird had deboned it so well. For a man to have a Master of Engineering yet so little common sense still amused Marcus. Set him down with a circuit board, a steering wheel, and a small pile of scrap and Baird could create the next luxury vehicle; anything outside his career was deemed insignificant. Marcus often wondered if Baird was sheltered more than he let on. No, he just never cared to pay attention to something besides himself.

"Step away from the meat and go cut tomatoes," Marcus growled. "You know how to do that, right?"

Baird set down the meat and knife, exasperated. "No, I've never seen one in my entire life. Of course I can cut tomatoes. In fact, I'll make precision cuts that'll blow your mind—uh, where are they?"

"Check the drawer in the fridge, genius."

It didn't matter how long Baird had lived here, the kitchen was completely foreign territory for him. Although Marcus had grown up in a household where someone else made the meals, his mother made sure he had enough knowledge to survive on his own; then he gained interest in watching the chef prepare meals and often helped in the kitchen when he was younger. Cooking had become a passion, a way for him to relax. After moving in with Baird, he had taken up cooking duties most nights without complaining. It was better than eating out every night.

He had marinated the lamb yesterday with rosemary, thyme, and garlic before he made the tapenade, which he now smothered on the inside of the meat before setting it in the oven. The trimming and dressing took all of five minutes and he thought Baird would be finished with the tomatoes, but when Marcus turned around, Baird was still fussing over the third tomato.

"What the hell are you doing?" Marcus asked.

"What's it look like? Slicing tomatoes like you asked," Baird replied, bent over the red fruit in concentration. "Damn, when did you get so bossy?"

"When I decided to get involved with you."

"Regret it yet?"

"Funny you ask—yeah, I'm starting to. You were supposed to cut six tomatoes. It's not rocket science."

"Yeah, I know, I'm working on it. Some people like to take their time and get it right, not attack like a savage. Look, if I keep each slice to half a millimeter, I can get twenty slices from one tomato."

Marcus grabbed a knife from the block and sliced up the remaining three tomatoes to Baird's protests. "Our folks will be here in an hour. You still have to pick up the place and do something with those damn boxes."

"Tripped over them again, huh?" Baird grinned. The boxes his Ostrian silk sheets had arrived in had found their way all around the apartment in the past two days, and each time Marcus ran into them. Marcus was sure Baird was purposely putting them in the way. It was the type of passive aggressive crap he'd pull.

"If you're keeping the sheets then get rid of the boxes."

Baird pulled the large salad bowl out of the fridge and added the tomato slices on top in a circular pattern. "Well you hate the sheets. Might as well keep the boxes for now. I have thirty days to ship them back. I want to enjoy every second possible before I get rid of them."

"I don't hate those stupid sheets. I haven't even touched them, remember?"

"Yeah, because you hate them."

Marcus punched Baird in the shoulder, jolting his careful placement. "Go get your porn out of the living room."

Pouting, Baird laid down his last tomato and marched out of the kitchen. "Just so you know, Seran Scientist Today is a great conversation starter and I'm sure your old man would appreciate seeing my journals from The Tyran Institute of Electronics and Engineering."

"And your parents?"

"We wouldn't have that problem if you had left them out of this."

"Welcome to the real world, pal."

"So, Damon, Marcus tells me you're a nuclear engineer at TIEE. How is that going for you?" Professor Adam Fenix asked before taking a sip of his scotch.

"Yes, Damon, I'd like to hear that, as well," Elinor Baird chimed. "What were you working on, weapons of mass destruction? Nuclear warfare is always such a cheery topic. You'd know a little about that, wouldn't you, Professor Fenix?"

Baird wanted to sink into the floor. It had only been thirty minutes since the Fenixes and Bairds arrived and already he wanted to strangle Marcus for ever suggesting this meeting. Elinor had entered the apartment with Jocelin in tow, took one disinterested look around and instantly decided it wasn't good enough for her son. Nothing was good enough for Damon Baird unless he was tucked safely away at home obeying her orders. Adam and Elain Fenix had a much nicer reunion with their son. They actually complimented him on the apartment. Now both families were spread around the living room for drinks as the lamb finished cooking.

"Actually I don't do much with nuclear fission anymore. I've moved onto medicine," Baird replied, his answer directed towards Adam. "Instead of splitting atoms, I'm creating compounds through unstable atoms. And recently I lectured at LaCroix about the effects of radionuclide in the human body. The students really ate it up."

Adam chuckled. "I always found LaCroix to have bright and willing minds. They're flexible, if you will. They want to learn but normal lectures make them restless. I'm sure your teaching methods were something to see."

"So instead of killing others you're trying to save them through the same materials?" Elinor asked.

"It's an honorable career, Elinor," Elain said.

"Says the evolution theorist."

"Morphology, experimental morphology. It was part of my studies as an embryologist and I found it much more exhilarating than I imagined. Breaking down the body to cells and seeing how they interact with one another to blink an eye or flex a finger, and how the body is created—there's nothing like it."

Elinor gave a haughty scoff. She was a socialite; she would never understand science. For Baird, well, he was starting to like Marcus's parents. Why couldn't he be born into the Fenix family? He glanced at Marcus who gave him an unreadable yet peaceful look. Never mind. I don't want to think about it. It's fucking annoying, but I'm okay with being a Baird.

Unable to stand the tension rising between the mothers, Baird downed his scotch and stood suddenly. He was beyond uncomfortable. "I'm gonna check on the food. Try not to behead anyone while I'm gone, Mother."

He disappeared into the kitchen and leaned on the counter, sighing. This was pure torture. His father hadn't said a damn word since they arrived and Elinor had taken up her usual role as a snippy bitch. He thought she would at least try to be civil in front of company; she was at her own soirees. Didn't he deserve some respect? He rubbed his hand down his face. I don't know if I can take this. I have to ask them to leave.

"Baird? You feeling okay?" Marcus asked. He leaned against the counter beside him.

Baird wanted to lie—Yeah, everything's fine. Great. I'm not stressed out by my parents presence or anything—but he didn't have it in him. "No. Shit, this really sucks. I should have told you sooner but I haven't spoken to my parents in three years. I can't bring myself to acknowledge them. They make me physically ill."

"You seemed to do just fine when they got here."

"Shock. It's a hell of a drug."

Marcus touched his arm. "I don't care if we can't talk about emotions and all that shit, but you should have told me about this. I thought you just had a falling out."

"Yeah, it's, uh, three years of falling out. I don't even remember what the fight was about. It was a big blow up, I stormed out and never looked back."

"Why don't you use tonight to fix that?"

Baird shrugged his hand away. "There is no fixing in the Baird family. Jeez, when did you become so emotional? It's freaky."

"When I decided to get involved with you," Marcus replied with a small grin. God, did Baird love that smile. It was rare and every time it popped up, he wanted to go nuts and take pictures as if he just discovered a new exotic breed. "I'll handle your parents, okay? They seem civil. Enough."

Baird laughed. "I hope you brought a poncho then, 'cause Elinor isn't afraid to turn any situation into a blood bath."

Marcus made a noncommittal noise as he pulled a pan from the oven. The meat smelled delicious and Marcus had even made some kind of roasted potato. I love a man that can cook, Baird thought as he took a deep breath of rosemary.

Marcus didn't know it but he was definitely the only good thing in Baird's life at that moment.

Dinner progressed as smoothly as Baird imagined. His father continued to remain tight lipped, despite Adam's best attempts to talk about politics, and Elinor kept up her barrage of backhanded compliments and poorly disguised insults. Thankfully Elain had picked up on the tense situation and commanded most of the conversation. The topics jumped from the scientific world to cross the socialite border about celebrities. Elinor had a few tense words to say about the newest breakout movie star she'd spotted downtown or about the actions of an ambassador's hormonal son. Then there were the topics that Elain steered in Marcus's direction—small things that he was passionate about, like architecture and music, and the latest episode of a comedy show they'd watched for years.

Baird hardly had room for his meal amongst all the replies he ate up. He had never seen Marcus talk so much. He was actively engaging with both sets of parents, and Baird thought it was kind of cute to watch him try to maneuver his way to Elinor's good side. I've been trying that shit for twenty-seven years and she still thinks I'm a nuisance.

Finally Elain brought the conversation in his direction. "So Damon, tell us a little more about yourself. Where did you grow up?"

Personal questions? Shit, the interrogation's begun. Why couldn't she just keep asking about my education? "I grew up here in Tollen, about an hour away towards Halley County. As far as I know, the family estate is still there."

"How quaint. I've heard it's a nice neighborhood."

"Eh, it was okay, I guess. If you don't mind your closest neighbor being three miles away."

"It's better than trying to fit a neighborhood around a large house," said Adam. "In Jacinto, the city is so packed and noisy even in the gated neighborhoods. There are more apartment complexes appearing each day."

"I've heard Jacinto is one of the best cities to live in," Elinor interrupted. "The crime rate is nonexistent, they say."

"Thanks to the presence of the military, of course. We have the best academy—somewhere I had hoped my son would one day attend."

Marcus shrugged. "I tried it and didn't like it. Police work suits me better."

"Police work?" Elinor asked, a haughty look to her shining eyes. "Don't tell me you try to be like those cop dramas. It's nothing like TV leads you to believe."

Baird cringed. So she still watched the ridiculous police dramas. She used to marathon entire series when she wasn't busy thinking of new ways to ruin his life. At least, that's what he always assumed she did with her free time.

"I know that," Marcus replied. "I've been on the force for five years now and I don't do it because I liked what I saw on TV. I do it to save lives."

"Yes, Marcus was always adamant about getting his way," Elain said to Elinor. "He's polite about it, though. In fact, the night he told Adam and I, he looked so disappointed because he knew we expected another scientist in the family. I told him to do whatever makes him happy."

"Damon's lucky to pursue his own career choices. He was supposed to attend the General Maldonado Military Institute and follow our family tradition," Elinor replied. He didn't miss the cold glare in his direction. "But thankfully I'm an understanding mother."

Baird scoffed. The table fell silent as his mother turned her green eyes onto him. Shit, that was louder than I expected.

"You sound as if you don't agree with your mother." It was Jocelin. His first real sentence of the night. Baird focused on the plate in front of him, memorizing the swirling design as he bit the inside of his cheek.

I'm twenty-seven years old. I should be able to stand up and tell him to fu—

Marcus squeezed his knee under the table at the same moment Adam steered the conversation down another path. "How did you two meet, anyway? Marcus simply mentioned a scientist and the rest is history. How long have you been together now—two or three years?"

"Two and six months," Marcus answered. Baird wondered how he knew it off the top of his head; the blond had trouble remembering their anniversary. "And I think Bai—Damon should tell the story."

All eyes turned on him and for a moment Baird's mind was blank. How did they meet? Was he running a diagnostic with a lab partner when Marcus interrupted? No, maybe he was walking down the street and Marcus bumped into him, spilling coffee on him. Was it a bookstore?

I'm not fit for relationships.

"Uh." He cast a quick look at Marcus. Their parents waited—the Fenixes smiling pleasantly while the Bairds glowered.

"Doesn't surprise me. You were busy with all your work from Elliot."

Now he remembered. "Oh, yeah. That crazy old frog. I had an internship with Professor Josiah Elliot at LaCroix. Marcus was working . . . security?" he guessed, and received a nod from the other man. "Right, security. I think I had to stay late one night and he came into the lab spitting fire about something."

"I wanted to go home," Marcus interjected. "I'd been at the lab early that morning because I covered a guy's shift then did my own."

"And I wasn't done with the workload Elliot had given me. But he was stomping around, trying to get me to speed up my work. I told him it wasn't gonna happen. Tests take time."

"Well then he started to get an attitude and explained why it was taking so long, but I told him I couldn't leave until he was gone. He wasn't listening, of course."

"Hey, I had better things to do than listen to you complain about some guy ditching his shift. Anyway, a couple minutes after he shuts up, I realize thing's had gotten too quiet and when I looked over, he was sound asleep in Elliot's chair. And that was the first time I met Marcus."

Baird noticed Elinor's white knuckles wrapped around the stem of her glass but before she could get a word in, Elain asked, "And what happened after that? You can't leave it on a cliffhanger!"

"Mom, please," Marcus said, his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink, much to Baird's surprise. "We met a couple of times after that and now we're here. That's all."

"A couple of times?" Elinor spat. "When you attended that university, Damon, it was a gift from your father and I. Now I learn you were sleeping around—and with a security guard, no less!"

"Elinor, please, I'm sure Damon made responsible choices. He graduated from TIEE, after all. Not many can boast about that," Elain said.

"And they're both grown men," Adam continued. "Damon's certainly old enough to make his own choices, including who he's seeing."

Baird's face turned hot. Two strangers are defending me against my own parents. How much more embarrassing can this get? Not for the first, or even the second or third, time tonight, he wanted to floor to open and swallow him whole. There was a reason he never mentioned his parents and this was just one of them. He had a relationship once before Marcus. When his mother caught wind of it, Baird became the estranged son, the bastard child, and lived with his grandparents for a year. He was thirteen. He was embarrassed by just how batshit insane Elinor became when she couldn't control a situation.

"Are you telling me how to parent my own child?" Elinor stood, her shoulders squared and nostrils flared. Baird knew that look. She was going to cause a scene.

Insulting the Fenixes, insulting him—insisting she was his mother. As far as he was concerned, she gave birth to him and that was all. She had never been a mother. He couldn't take another second.

Baird stood across the table from her. His chair clattering against the floor brought the room to a surprised standstill. "Get out," he said quietly. "Get the fuck out of my house. I'm not your fucking child and I never have been. I'm twenty-seven and can make my own decisions, and I've decided I don't want you near me."

Her lips pressed into a hard line and the green of her eyes darkened with her fury. Jocelin continued to sit next to her, quiet but observing, and made no motion to restrain his wife as she reached across the table. Baird didn't expect the slap—no matter how much she yelled and screamed, she never raised a hand against him—and the sting hurt that much worse. Adam and Marcus jumped up from their seats.

At a leisurely pace, Jocelin stood and took his wife's arm, her face now red with anger. "I think we've overstayed our welcome," he said.

Jocelin led her to the door but Elinor wasn't finished. "Fine, if that's how you talk to the woman who raised you, you can rot in hell—you and your friends! And you can forget your inheritance—you will never get a cent from us, Damon!"

He could still hear her yelling even after the door slammed.

His stomach turned in tight knots, his cheek throbbed, and he was officially mortified. He wanted nothing more than to tell Elinor exactly where to shove that inheritance; he wanted to yell and embarrass her by telling the Fenixes what a horrible mother she was, but there was one thing his father taught him that, unfortunately, stuck. Never raise your voice, especially towards a woman. Damn it.

Baird fisted his hands, steeling himself for the looks of terror on the faces of his guests, and turned to Adam and Elain. "I'm sorry you had to see that—"

"No, I'm sorry," Marcus interrupted. He touched Baird's arm. "You tried to warn me. I should have listened."

"Maybe she'll change her mind in a few days," said Elain. There was no terror or surprise from the outburst. There was something he hated even more. She pitied him.

"I really don't want her to. She's been nothing but poison. Look, can we just… pretend it never happened?"

Marcus was always quick to change the subject. He moved towards the kitchen. "I made dessert."

Elain stood and went after him. "Let me help you, honey."

They're gonna go in there and feel sorry for me. I've been kicked out of the Baird family two times already. I'm done with the shock of it all. I just want to live my own fucking life.

Adam gave him a look that Baird was used to seeing on Marcus's face. He wanted to ask but he wasn't sure how or if he was overstepping his boundaries. Did Baird really want to unload to his boyfriend's father? No, he couldn't even talk about this shit with his boyfriend of two years.

"I'm okay with it," Baird said, simply because the silence was getting to him. "She's disowned me before. I've made my own life and I'm not looking for her approval or help."

"No child should have to go through such a relationship. I admit I was never… fully open with Marcus, but I could never imagine speaking so carelessly to him."

"Yeah, well, the Bairds aren't known for being great speakers. We tend to spout off a lot of hot air and think about the consequences later. And she's said so much to me that none of it bothers me anymore. She's just an annoying fly by my ear."

"Nonsense. She's your mother—"

"She's a woman who claims she's my mother. Sir, she never raised me."

"I see." Adam ran his thumb and forefinger over his impeccably groomed beard.

Baird gathered the plates and stacked them on one end of the table. Marcus was taking a damn long time with dessert. "Can I be frank with you?"

"Of course, Damon."

"I … shit, this is a lot harder to say." He stared at the table and rubbed the back of his neck as he gathered his thoughts. There had to be a way to tell someone, even if Marcus should have been the one to hear it. But he really did suck at relationships. "I just … your son is the best thing to ever happen to me, and I appreciate that you're okay with, well, us. I've been surrounded by judgmental idiots all my life that I started to question if my choice of breakfast would cause more hatred in my house. Is an orange okay, or is it not good enough?" He sighed, struggling to continue to put his emotions in the open. "But with Marcus, I don't have to worry about any of that crap. I can be myself, and it's taken some adjustment to actually be me, but I like the man he's showed me. Even if he doesn't want me a year from now, I know that I want to be with him for a long time. Uh, but I promise not to be a stalker or anything if he does kick me to the curb."

Adam was silent for a matter of seconds. He stared at Baird with a searching gaze that made him squirm. He could imagine Adam quickly dissecting every word, weighing and studying them to find any hidden meaning, but Baird was telling the truth. He meant every word, even about not being a stalker. It would be hard to let Marcus go if he ever wanted to call things off, but he'd do it. I'll just have to learn to suck it up. Maybe drown myself in ice cream.

Finally, unexpectedly, Adam laughed and pulled Baird into a hug. He froze. He'd been hugged before, but somehow this felt different. It was parental and loving.

"You're a good man," he told Baird, pulling away. "I know you make Marcus happy, and I can certainly see how happy you are together. You're a good fit. I'd be happy to call you an honorary Fenix."

"An honorary Fenix? Like—"

"Yes, like my son-in-law. I don't mean to overstep but I'm certain Marcus won't be 'kicking you to the curb' any time soon."

"Are you boys talking shop in here?" asked Elain as she returned, carrying plates from Baird's normal dish collection. "I've told you before, Adam, not everyone needs to work at your facility. It's a lot of pressure to keep secrets of the state."

Adam chuckled and gently took the plates from his wife. "He's happy at the Tyran Institute and I wouldn't think of pulling him away from what he loves."

"We can take this to the living room," Marcus said, carrying a raspberry mousse pie. Moving to the living room was a good idea. He wanted to make Baird more comfortable and leaving behind the awkward scene was more than helpful. Baird appreciated it.

The rest of the evening was informal and comfortable. They sat on the floor around the long coffee table as the Fenixes learned more about Baird, and Baird learned more about Marcus through the eyes of two people who loved him as much as he did. The embarrassing childhood stories were especially his favorite. Unmovable, stoic Marcus had a permanent blush through those stories. Baird laughed, he held Marcus's hand and leaned against him; he was comfortable, and for once, he felt part of a family.

"So, did it kill you to attend dinner?"

"There was a moment I saw my life flash before my eyes, so yeah, almost."

Marcus rolled his eyes and set another glass in the dishwasher. One hiccup excluded, he thought tonight went as well as possible. He wasn't sure what he expected from the Bairds. He wasn't even sure if he'd ever see them after tonight, and that was okay. The blond at his side was more than happy to put it behind him; if he wanted to talk about it, he'd say something. Marcus didn't push.

"I appreciate you being there and not coming up with some half-assed excuse," Marcus said.

"Hey, I worked hard to make that dinner. I had to be there." Baird grinned, goading the other man.

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

"But you love me anyway."

Marcus straightened up, his expression becoming deadly serious. He saw the flash of concern cross Baird's face for a split second. Marcus had the chance tonight to see a different side of Baird—someone relaxed and happy with who he was, comfortable with who was in a relationship with. Marcus didn't feel like a roommate or a secret anymore. He felt like he was part of a real relationship.

"Yeah," he said softly, "I do."

Baird gave him a beaming smile—something real, not his usual self-important smirk. He hoped to see it more often. "Hey, wanna help me break in the Ostrian silk tonight? It gets pretty cold having that big bed to myself."

"Suddenly I'm good enough to lay on your precious silk?"

"You'll always be more than good enough—shit, I don't deserve someone like you. Sometimes… sometimes when I look at you I wonder how I was so lucky."

Marcus set the last glass in and closed the dishwasher. He turned to Baird with a smirk. "Want a private demonstration?"

Baird shook his head and slid an arm around Marcus's waist. "I'm trying to have a serious conversation here and you're bringing sex into it? God, you're a jackass." But his expression said he was thinking about anything other than a serious conversation. He loomed closer, eyes focused on one thing.

"I love you, too," Marcus replied.

And he sealed it with a kiss.