A/N: I really don't know what to say here.

This is kinda-sorta a sequel to another fic I wrote called "Never Leave," but that one's M-rated and this one can stand alone, so you don't have to read that one first.

Kevin/Rolf/Nazz. OT3. I'm a little obsessed. :P

I hope you enjoy! Please R&R!

There were six heaping bags of garbage out on the front lawn, waiting to be mashed up and fed to the pigs. The most efficient way to bring them to the back yard, of course, was three at a time – one thrown over a shoulder, the other two dragging the ground. Rolf was not the best at math, but he figured that would mean two trips with three bags each trip. When he came back from the first to find only two bags remaining, he knew immediately that something was wrong.

"What horsefeathers is this?" he roared, tugging at the grass where the third bag had been, as if it were playing hide-and-seek. "Mama, there is a thief on the loose! Bring the rolling pin!"

"Hey, don't freak, dude! I brought it out back for you." Nazz stepped out from behind the garage, grinning brightly enough to blind a rabbit and perspiring profusely enough to drown a duck. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a chalky smudge of mascara under her eyebrow.

Rolf scowled as he stormed towards her. "Nazz-girl! What bamboozles you to think you can interfere with Rolf's work?"

Nazz looked at her sandaled foot as it traced circles in the dirt. "You work so hard, Rolf," she said. "I wanted to help you out. Lift your burden for the day, you know?"

"No. You wish much more than to 'help Rolf.'" He hunched down to her level and aimed an accusatory finger at her nose. "But he is here to tell you that he is not a marionette! He cannot and will not be manipulated to your desires and he demands in all courtesy that Nazz-girl leaves!"

Startled, Nazz backed up against the wall so hard that the shingles on the roof shook. "A marionette?"

Rolf threw his hands in exasperation. "Do you have cabbages growing in your ear canals? Leave!"

Nazz flinched. "But . . . "

"Before I feed you to the pigs for lunch! They are very ravenous!" Having given his final word, he trudged away, grabbed the two remaining bags and heaved them easily over his shoulders. He didn't so much as glance at her as he left for the backyard.

Rolf's mind had been plagued by thoughts of her for weeks. He dreamed about making her fall in love with him – not because he wanted her, but because he wanted her and Kevin broken up so he could have the boy he loved all to himself. He'd realized how sick and selfish he was, but after that, it had only gotten worse. Now he was imagining the three of them on cordial terms and doing unmentionable nude things together. The only things that could distract him were chores, and he thanked the gods that he had one now to keep him from having to look her in the eye.

Nazz's thoughts were not quite as ambitious, but they were no less lecherous or guilty. They played through her mind on loop as she softly rounded the corner to watch him.

He was elbow-deep in a triple-strength garbage bag with Double D's last name written neatly on the bottom. He reached to get as much out as he could in one armful and came out up to his ears in apple cores and citrus rinds and half-eaten pieces of cake, with which he filled the empty trough by the pigpen. Unfazed by the food scraps decorating his white undershirt, he turned back to the five remaining bags and frowned.

"Rolf's neighbors are too generous," he muttered, rubbing his chin in frustration. "The pigs do not have the gut capacity to consume all of their moldy leftovers before they decompose."

There was a moment of suspense as he thought it over. Nazz waited with bated breath, hoping he would take off his shirt and praying for her own sanity that he wouldn't.

Nuts to her sanity – he did.

Even the sight of just his back as it was unveiled elicited a sharp involuntary gasp from Nazz. She would have been afraid of him hearing, but he had a one-track mind. Toes curled, arms splayed, deltoids not even showing signs of releasing their tension – every inch of him was attentive and serious about mashing pig slop into a soupier pig slop. There was only one way Nazz could get him to redirect his energy – she would have to work, too.

She tiptoed behind him and into his tool shed. She looked around the little warehouse with wide eyes before settling on the first dull object she touched – a rusty miniature trowel that had not been used since Rolf began elementary school. Then, cautiously, she knelt down across from him and began prodding at the rotting vegetables with the tip. A cucumber with a spongy growth on the side oozed when she poked it. She made a noise of disgust.

"Nazz-girl is still here," Rolf grumbled without looking up.

"I just wanted you to know that I told him. I told Kev what we did."

Rolf's only response was a shaky hesitation before slamming his hands into the trough.

"I'm sorry. The guilt was too much and I couldn't take it anymore." A fountain of slop splashed onto Nazz's sleeve, and she shuddered. "I'm really, really sorry, Rolf."

Rolf stood up in a huff. He had half a mind to just walk away from her, but the other half knew he would only start brooding. Instead, he picked up another garbage bag, this one from the house of Rabid Sarah and the Chicken-Thief Ed-boy, and sighed, "Why is Nazz-girl relaying this horribly dull story to Rolf?"

Nazz flinched as a heap of stale toast hailed down before her. "Well . . . it concerns you, doesn't it?" she said. "I mean, he didn't seem mad at me . . . like, I don't really know why he wouldn't be, but he's never actually been mad at me before. Who knows what he feels about you now?"

If he and Nazz were still together, then not the way Rolf wanted him to feel. "Thank you for the warning," he said. "Now leave." He yanked the trowel out of her hands and threw it into the neighbor's yard, where it landed in a birdbath with a plop. Desperate to turn his focus back to his work, he knelt back down and began to savagely tear toast apart. Pieces that were particularly buttery slid out of his manic hands like soap. He wiped his hands on his chest, unaware of the effect his slathering grease on himself had on Nazz.

There was something about pure fat dripping down pure muscle that could compel her even to touch old food with her bare hands. "I don't know what to do, Rolf," she murmured, as the bread crumbled between her fingers. "I really, really like you a lot. But I . . . I still love Kevin."

Rolf clenched his eyes shut and grit his teeth. The thoughts were returning . . . the three of them . . . cordial terms . . . the gobbledygook about unmentionable things. "Lying Nazz-girl," he muttered, "told Rolf that she loved him."

Nazz blushed and started gingerly picking the strings off the inside of a grapefruit peel. "That was a mistake," she said. "You know? People will say anything during an orgasm."

"So you do not love Rolf."

Nazz hesitated. "Just because I didn't mean it doesn't mean it's not true."

That was all Rolf needed to hear. He stood up and started pacing towards the shed. He didn't stop there, though, instead making his pensive way through the field. Nazz thought at first that he was ignoring her again and going to get the pigs, but then he made a sharp left at their pen and kept walking, his hands shaking as he held his head between them. She must have broken him. Nothing could tear him away from his work so easily, except for, apparently, jealousy.

Back home, Rolf would have earned an Embla Award for Best Professional Lying, because he wasn't jealous at all. He wasn't shaky and he wasn't pensive and he wasn't ignoring her, either. He was sure of himself, that was all, and he needed to come to terms with how sure of himself he was.

She loved them both. Rolf and Kevin, and Nazz. If Kevin was willing, then the three of them – his sick daydream – it could really work.

When he finally made his way back to the start, Nazz was on her feet, looking around frantically for a soft surface with her dripping hands held far away from her clothes. She was embarrassed and ready to leave, but to her surprise, Rolf was there quickly to block her escape. He knelt down and pecked her on the lips, admittedly with the same passion as a cow had eating dry grass. But it warmed her from her mouth down through her heart and her eyelashes fluttered like they might lift her off the ground.

She didn't care how dirty her hands were, because she had two men now who could guiltlessly help her wipe the sludge off onto their bare chests.

Rolf held onto her wrists tightly as she swooned. He was waiting for her with a smile when she gently opened her eyes. "Things will work out very well for us, I think," he said.

"Really?" she exhaled.

"Yes." Rolf nodded and kissed her lightly on the forehead. It occurred to him that he would be using her yet again. But he shook it off. He could easily subdue the feeling by going to fetch Wilfred for his mealtime.

Besides, this time, Nazz was really going to enjoy herself.

A/N: Hope you liked it! Reviews are appreciated!