This story has been changed to a one shot. I don't think I'll have the time I wish to expand upon it. So for now let us consider this as far as it will go.

Disclaimer: Don't own Static Shock or anything Static Shock related, except the plot to this story, but I would love to have new episodes to obsess over.

Midnight Serenade

He woke, his room still dark, to the sound of his doorbell ringing spastically and someone banging on his door. Groaning as he flipped his blanket away and swung his feet to the carpeted floor of his apartment, he fished around on his nightstand for his glasses. If he didn't answer the blasted thundering one of his neighbors in the small apartment complex was bound to report a disturbance of the peace. Therefore, Richie stumbled his way to the door in gray pajama pants and a baggy white T-shirt wrinkled from sleep. He knew it was Virgil before he even opened it. No one else had a good reason to get him up at, he glanced at a clock beside the door, three o' eight in the bloody morning. He hoped the African American had a damn good reason for this stunt.

Taking a breath to push his mind into alertness, Richie deactivated his electronic alarm system, unlocked all three deadbolts and finished with a sliding lock. No, he didn't have security, not at all. Then again, in this neighborhood one couldn't be too careful. Twisting the silver handle, Richie yawned. As soon as he swung the door open he was trapped in a bear-hug with ragged breathing in his ear. Naturally, his first reaction was panic when he realized his best friend sounded like he was having some sort of severe and convulsive heart attack.

"Holy shit, V, are you alright?" Richie did what instinct told him and firmly grabbed Virgil by his biceps to support the greater weight. The man was panting as though he recently finished running from his worst nightmare. In response, Virgil coughed lightly, arms tightly secured around his partner.

"Come on. Come sit down," Richie led, or rather half-dragged, Virgil to the tiny kitchen, "I'll get some water. What's wrong?" He pulled out a chair and attempted to ease the man into the wooden furniture, but failed as he was nearly pulled with.

"You alright?" Richie looked up with inquiring eyes.

"Uh-huh," Virgil's hands slipped away, disentangling from the white shirt with hesitation, "Thanks."

"What happened?" Richie's expression fell into one of greater concern as he stepped over to his cupboards and found two glasses.

"Well," Virgil swallowed heavily, "I blew the transmission out on my car trying to get here." Richie furrowed his eyebrows as he placed the glasses on the table and withdrew a jug of water from his refrigerator, wondering why the man didn't take his disc and fly. The news couldn't have been too urgent, or else Virgil would have already explained. As Richie poured the water, he studied the man. He was, obviously, physically exhausted and, not to mention, sweating slightly. His eyes seemed different, more bothered and confused than normal.

Virgil's normally pretty good about remaining calm in emergencies...But...

He stopped before his best friend, set a hand on his shoulder and bent forward to look into frightened eyes. Though he doubted it, he had to ask, "Did someone get hurt, V?"

Virgil smiled weakly, "No, Rich, nothing like that."

"That's a relief," he pulled out a chair and eased into it, across from his guest, "But what's so important you had to rush over here now? Batman forget to charge the battery in his Batmobile and you run out of juice? Or, did it lose a wheel?" He handed a full glass of water to Virgil. The man took a long, profound drink.

"Rich," Virgil slapped the glass down and looked up at the blond, "I'm an idiot." Richie promptly snorted into his glass.

"I see why you rushed in here like you had fire up your ass now. Thank you so much for that enlightening information. It was truly... life altering. Can I go to bed now?"

"God, Rich." Virgil's troubled smile and weak laugh became the attention grabber. Virgil could barely stand it. Richie was doing what he did best - he was being himself. It made him happy yet tore him up inside knowing now what he had been missing for the past several years. How was he supposed to tell his best friend his feelings toward him were, say, more than friendship?

Richie quietly climbed to his feet once again and approached the dark skinned male, "Somethin's really got you, huh?" He slipped an arm around his friend's shoulders and sat on the open lap. Virgil, out of habit, leaned his head against the nook of a pale neck; it was their version of a hug.

"I'm sorry, Rich." Virgil shivered as he held the thin-framed male against his chest, preventing him from sliding off his leg, which had happened before. The fingers rubbing the back of his neck were beginning to draw his attention. He hadn't had a massage in almost eight months. Eight months earlier happened to be about the time Richie received a new project. Virgil had been seeing less of his best friend ever since, going down from nearly every day to three times a week, then once a week, and finally twice a month. It was slowly driving him mad. His closest companion was slipping away from him. He hated it. It made him miserable.

"Why are you sorry?" Richie broke into Virgil's thoughts, his voice soft and wondering. Virgil really didn't want to answer. He was afraid - no - terrified! of all the possible ways Richie could react badly. Yet somewhere inside his mind a little voice was telling him Richie would still be there for him and that all big powerful Virgil was afraid of was rejection.

A gentle smile formed on the genius' lips, "Are you afraid to tell me or what, bro?"

"Scared shitless." Virgil turned his eyes upward to make eye contact with the calm male. He was a bit surprised when he found Richie's decoding eyes searching him, almost visibly taking his mind apart and reconstructing it in his head to discover new facts. Richie would figure it out sooner or later if he didn't spill. With a sigh Richie leaned closer and rested his cheek on top of a mussed nest of dreadlocks.

"V, you remember when we used to play games all night at your house? You know, when we were in high school?" There was a pause as Virgil tried to understand what the hell the blond was talking about and why now.

"Yeah..."

Richie laughed that amused and content laugh of his, "And then we'd fall asleep side by side, both of us too tired to bother climbing up to use your bed. We spent a lot of Saturday's like that, didn't we?"

"Yeah, Rich, we did." Virgil inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar smell of Richie's skin.

"I felt like I knew you better than anyone. As though you were the only person I could connect with. It didn't matter what everyone else said or thought, you were and always have been my best friend and partner. I've known that for years. We've done things and pulled stunts normal people wouldn't expect out of friends."

"Like what?" Virgil furrowed his brow, trying to think of such an event. Besides, of course, the superhero tricks.

"Well, for one we can think back three years. That Christmas party your sister threw at Pops', remember?" Richie smiled and played with thick dark hair beneath his fingers.

"When Sharon accidentally dumped the punch all over Daisy?"

"Yeah," Richie laughed, "But I'm thinking of a different event. When I was caught standing under the mistletoe and Sharon told you to give me a smooch... and you did." Virgil felt himself smile. Yes, he remembered that. He had been standing behind his favorite blonde boy in the kitchen, Richie leaning against the swinging door to hold it for him when Sharon opened her mouth.

Hey, punch boy, get in here and give your boyfriend a kiss, he's lonely and standing under the designated kissing spot! That's what she had said, while pointing to the plant hanging above the doorway. He had replied with a simple, "Huh?" as though he had misheard. He smiled, set the giant glass bowl of red liquid on the counter and stepped into the doorway. Richie had turned to look at him, confused since he had arrived not two minutes earlier and was still wearing his coat. Virgil merely slipped a hand behind his neck and pulled the blond forward and kissed him firmly but briefly on the lips. Both had started smiling, making the connection rather odd. Virgil lightly smacked Richie's cheek a couple times and told him to stand there and look pretty for him while he brought the punch in. All present guests found the action to be entertaining. To them it wasn't odd at all. Funny was more like it.

"But," Richie started again, "That wasn't the first time we had kissed." Now, if Virgil recalled correctly he was sure Richie was referring to the college incident. That was the first and the last time their group of friends played a game of Truth or Dare with Frieda. Not that it wasn't fun, people were merely afraid of what the crazy girl would come up with if they played a second game. Thankfully, Richie and Virgil were half intoxicated and therefore easily talked into a Dare. Their Dare frightened some of the sober men present; Frieda wanted Virgil and Richie to play out the part of a kissing scene from one of her favorite romance movies, Richie being the woman. And how sweet of her it was to bring a copy of the movie, forwarded to the right place, to play as their reference.

Being the wonderful actors they were, Riche and Virgil put their talent on display and gave Frieda, as well as the other women in the room, a show that made the entire night worth attending. That kiss was a bit more... intense... and it involved quite a deal more physical contact. Hair was mussed, clothes were disheveled and Richie thoroughly enjoyed -meaning he didn't have to act - his first 'love-bite'.

"I had to wear turtlenecks for two weeks because of you."

"Frieda will never let us forget that night, either."

"She was depressed last time I talked to her. Said no one wanted to party with her. Not that I could blame anyone. She's always had a wild side."

"So have you, Mister Karaoke Master."

"Anyway," Richie began to change the subject, not wanting to get into his college pranks and partying, "My overall point is that we've been through a hell of a lot together. We lived the lives of high school teenagers and superheroes together. I'd trust you with anything, and in exchange you can tell me anything. I'm not going to disown you as my friend. Fuck the world, Virg, you're worth more than that!"

Virgil smiled against warm skin. Richie had a point. What the hell was he so afraid of? Rejection? This was the guy he'd woken up on various occasions snuggled against. He'd kissed Richie in front of his family and made out with him before good friends. Richie wouldn't be disgusted or shocked into anger or disbelief. At most he'd stare blankly at him for several moments before coming up with some witty remark.

"Then kiss me." Virgil pulled back and locked his eyes with Richie's.

"What?" An adorably lost expression.

"If I mean more than the world to you... then kiss me. And make it good, damnit." Virgil watched as Richie's bewilderment melted into his trademark smile and soft eyes. He remained still, arms holding the man against him as Richie bent his head forward and, without a second thought, kissed him. It was simple, not as much as their college experience but certainly more than the brief moment they shared three years ago.

Richie slowly pulled away, looking intently into Virgil's eyes with his decoding expression, "Is this what it's about?" Virgil was somewhat annoyed with the fact everyone seemed to know he'd had the hots for Richie for years except the most important person; himself.

Despite this, Virgil smiled, "Yeah. I've been an idiot for years."

"Glad you got that cleared up."

"Me too," he took a breath, the words suddenly easier to say, "I'm in love with you, Richie."

Richie's mischievous, playful smile spread across his face, "Really?" He bit his fingernail to stretch the effect.

"Now you're just trying to be cute."

"Is it working?"

"Yes." Virgil bumped his forehead against Richie's and waited for the new kiss he knew was coming. However, Richie's gasp and sudden tight grip on his shoulder halted any proceeding thoughts.

"Rich?"

"Virgil," he suddenly seemed upset, though it was the kind of upset Richie became when he was mad at himself, "You're fucking married! You have a daughter, for Christ's sake! What the hell am I doing?" He moved to get up but was haphazardly yanked down. Virgil planned on telling him exactly what he was doing.

"Richie, you're sitting on my lap about to listen to my explanation." Virgil steadied the short male, taking interest in the comically frustrated yet perplexed look he was receiving.

"What explanation?"

"This was Daisy's idea. She's the reason I'm here, telling you this."

...

"What?"