A/N-Okay, so first off I have to say that I love Claire/Bender, and I would never want to see them with anyone but each other. However, I do also see Bender not trusting himself enough, and not believing in himself enough, and sabotaging himself so that it doesn't backfire on him. This is my first The Breakfast Club fic, so please be kind!

Disclaimer-I don't own The Breakfast Club, nor was any copyright infringement intended.

"John?" Claire called out as she walked in the door, shrugging out of her coat. "Are you home?"

"In here," he replied. "Like I am every day. Where else am I going to go?" he muttered to himself.

She walked into the living room and leaned in to give him a kiss. He lifted his face to hers briefly, then turned his attention back to the T.V.

She sighed and walked into the kitchen. "Work was hell today. I told you about Mrs. Davis, right?" She saw him nod, barely, in confirmation. "Well, she's being even more impossible now than she was when I first started her house. She's changed her mind about the color of the couch five different times now. Every time I bring the fabric over for her final approval, she yells at me and insists that I've made a mistake, because she obviously wouldn't choose that color, it wouldn't match anything," she said, mimicking the high pitched voice of her most recent client. "I swear, next time I'm just going to take my swatches and shove them up her hoighty-toighty ass," she laughed.

"Hmm," Bender said from the couch.

"John, did you even hear a word I said?"

"Yeah, Mrs. Davis is a bitch, you're shoving something up her ass, got it," he replied, still not taking his eyes off the T.V. He took a drink from the beer in his hand.

"Oh, well, yeah," Claire said. She had been sure that he wasn't listening. He's probably just gotten really good at absorbing what I say without actually listening over the years, she thought to herself.

Bender got off the couch and walked into the kitchen. He grabbed another beer out of the fridge.

Claire frowned disapprovingly. "How many of those have you had today?"

"Does it matter? It's not like I'm doing anything else."

"If you're so bored with sitting at home all day, you could go out and find something to do."

"I do do something all day. I watch T.V. and drink. It's not like I'm just lying in bed being a zombie."

"Yeah, well, you're not far off," Claire mumbled.

"What?" John asked, stepping closer to her.

She took a deep breath. "I said, you're not far off."

"Really," he said, menacingly.

"Yeah, really," she replied, not backing down.

"So, what, you want me to go talk to your daddy and ask him if that job offer still stands? You want me to become a banker, go to work in suits, carry a briefcase?" he asked, moving to yell in her face.

"No! You know I don't want that, that's why I encouraged you not to take the job in the first place. I want you to be happy, but you're obviously not happy with the current situation," she yelled back.

"Oh, you're right Princess, because you know me so well," he snarled.

"I know that you'd be happier if you were doing something! Hell, you were happier in high school for chrissakes'. You had a better time picking on the nerds and arguing with Vernon that you're having right now, living in this nice apartment with me!"

"Well, then, maybe it's you that's the problem!"

"Maybe it is!"

"Fine, then leave!"

Claire turned the stove off and started to go pack a bag. Then she stopped. "No."

"What?" he asked.

"No, I won't leave. I'm the one with a job, I'm the one who pays all the bills, all you do is sit around all day, you can go find a new couch."

"Like hell I will."

"Do you want me to call the cops? Because my name's on the lease, they'll kick you out before they kick me out."

Bender glared at her for a moment. "Fine," he snapped, stalking off to the bedroom. He came back a few minutes later. "I'll be by later in the week for the rest of my shit."

"Can't wait," she said sarcastically.

He left and slammed the door behind him. Claire sat down on the floor and started to cry.

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Bender eased the door open then quietly shut it behind him. He took his shoes off and started to walk in. He stopped when he saw Claire lying on the sofa.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hey," he replied, still not walking into the room.

"What are you doing back? I thought you didn't want to be here with me anymore."

He sighed and moved into the room. He sat down on the edge of the couch. "I lied. There isn't anywhere else I want to be than here."

"I'm glad," she whispered.

"Why are you on the couch?"

"I couldn't sleep in the bed without you. It was too big, and I was lonely."

He nodded sympathetically. "Well, I'm here now. Come on," he stood and held his hands out.

"Thanks," she said, standing. She pulled him into a hug. "Why do we keep doing this?" she whispered in his ear.

"I don't know," he whispered back.

"Maybe if you found something to do during the day, something you enjoyed-"

"Please, not right now," he said in a strained voice. "I've just spent the last seven hours driving around the city, I just want to sleep."

She nodded and led him back to the bedroom.

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"John?" Claire called out as she walked in the door.

"Same time, same place, same wonderful person," he replied.

"Hey," she leaned down to kiss him, and was rewarded with only a short peck. Shaking her head, she headed to their bedroom. "Andy and Allison invited us over for dinner tonight," she said as she walked away.

He grunted in response.

"Do you not want to go?" she asked, reappearing in the doorway.

"Whatever. If you want to, we can," he said, staring at the T.V.

"I just thought that maybe you would enjoy it. When was the last time you saw any of our friends?"

He shrugged. "They're your friends, you tell me."

"They're your friends too," she reprimanded.

"Whatever," he replied.

"John, what's wrong with you? You're not the same as you used to be."

"Neither are you. We all grow up, Claire."

"You didn't grow up, John, it seems like you died. You never show an interest in anything. You sit there and drink beer and watch T.V. all day. You don't have any opinions anymore, you just go along with whatever I suggest."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "If we're going to go to dinner, can we please not fight? It's going to make it a very tense situation."

She threw her hands up in frustration and went back into the bedroom.

Bender sighed. He knew what she meant, but he didn't know what to do about it. It's not like he could do anything about it, really. His only other options were selling drugs or fixing cars. Claire didn't approve of him selling drugs, and he didn't want to spend the rest of his days as a grease monkey. He knew that she deserved better than him, but, for whatever reason, she still believed in him. She still loved him. If the tables had been turned, he didn't know if he would be able to deal with a zombie-like Claire. Part of what he loved about her was her fire. He loved the little arguments they used to get into. Unfortunately, the little arguments had quickly escalated into full-blown fights after she had encouraged him to "find what he wanted to do and pursue it." Of course, that had only happened after she had made a name for herself in the interior design business and was capable of supporting them on her own. It made him feel inferior. So, he lashed out. After their first argument, when he found her in the bathroom crying her eyes out, he tried to avoid the fights all together. And it worked, mostly, because he stopped feeling. Every once in a while though, they would have a big fight, and he would try to leave, because he knew it was what was best for her, but he'd always come back. He loved her, and he needed her, but she would be fine without him.

After all these years, he still didn't know why she hadn't left.