Sometime around eleven o'clock, Max and 99 sat on opposite beds in their quiet motel room, each reading a different book with the lamplight from the nightstand. Max was engrossed in a graphic novel about vampires that 99 couldn't care less about, while 99 was enthralled by a romance novel that Max was completely indifferent to. Until tomorrow morning, when 44 and 13 would arrive, along with a vanload of equipment, there was little else to do but talk with each other, and, as had been the case at Starbuck's, bond with the locals.

"Without incriminating ourselves, Max," 99 had reminded him.

KAOS was up to something somewhere in the vicinity, and every minute this issue was set aside for finding out whether or not that single mother would ever find love again in the arms of that handsome rancher was a minute of peace lost. But if the agents out to restore this peace in the world weren't at peace with themselves, what hope was there to begin with? Alas, fascinating though the artists' attention to gory, hellish detail in the slaying of undead bloodsuckers was, Max was beginning to think things were a little too peaceful.

He turned to look at 99, dressed in a pastel pink nightgown with her agent number printed on the left breast. Compared to his generic white T-shirt and boxer shorts, which lacked even basic personalization with his name written on them, she was practically royalty. But how best to start something?

"Okay, I'll be the first to say it," 99 said suddenly, setting her book down. "Why are we sleeping in separate beds?"

"Technically, we haven't slept in them yet," Max said. "And I don't know. But we're professionals, right?" In saying this, and all that it implied, he knew he was destroying his chances with her, but such was the nature of the profession.

"Just because we're professionals doesn't mean we can't sleep side by side. What are we living in, the fifties?"

"Couples slept together in the fifties. Don't believe everything you see on TV, 99."

"I Love Lucy reruns really took their toll on me, didn't they?"

"Well, TV isn't all bad," Max shrugged. He reached for the nightstand, 99 watching him as he did, and grabbed the remote to turn the boob tube on.

The news was on, and a well-dressed reporter was about to tell an apparently very important news item. "Disney TV star and pop princess Valerie Swanson has been—"

"Stupid celebrity bullshit," Max said, pressing the button and making the screen go black. He set the remote back down on the nightstand and turned to look at 99. "Sorry. Did you want to watch something? I'll turn it back on if you want me to."

"Do I look like I care if yet another shallow child star is pregnant? We've got terrorists to worry about."

"Then why are we just sitting here? There's got to be something we can do." He reached for his shoe. "I'll call the Chief, see what he thinks."

"It's like two o'clock in the morning in D.C.! He's probably sleeping!"

"I don't know about you, 99, but I'm always on duty."

"A minute ago you were sitting in your underwear reading about vampires."

"And I'm probably going to have strangely erotic nightmares because of that, but come on, what excuse do we have for our behavior?"

"Uh…" 99 began, "relaxing like this will ease us into well-needed rest which will make us better prepared for work tomorrow?"

"Well said." Max put his shoe back under the bed and while doing so blurted out, "Do you want to sleep with me?"

"What?"

"What?" Max said, pretending what she had heard was only her imagination. "I didn't say anything."

"Okay," 99 said cautiously and bringing her trade paperback back up to her face while Max did the same with his graphic novel and his face. For a minute the two of them feigned indifference to each other, and then she broke their silence as she had before. "All right, I'll bite…No pun intended. What do you mean, strangely erotic nightmares?"

"Oh," Max said, flipping back a few pages to show 99 what he was talking about. "See? These vampire women, they're like, totally naked and stuff. Undead and out for human blood, but, you know, still naked."

"Wow," 99 sighed. "That's low. I mean, the artist, who, by the way, is so obviously male, obviously only drew them like that because the majority of his fanboys are lonely teenagers who can barely even get a woman, just like he once was, and quite possibly still is. Not to mention, those breasts are way too big to be real." She buried her face back in her yawn-inducing, lovey-dovey manufactured trite and added, "I can't believe the crap that turns you men on."

"First of all," Max said, "of course they're fake. She's not real, so how will her boobs ever be? Second, even if she was flesh and blood, why would a vampire get a boob job? It…it makes no sense. And thirdly, you're one to talk, 99, since that crap you're reading is just an exercise in female fantasy fulfillment."

"Hey!" 99 said.

"Before you pull the sexism card, let me just ask: what flaws does the man have?"

"He's…uh…alone?"

"So am I, but at least it makes sense for me. That photo on the cover, he's got rippling biceps and a cowboy hat, and loads of women probably visit him on his ranch, but they're all conveniently taken, aren't they?"

"Mostly, but—"

"But then this equally lonely widow comes along by a friend's suggestion and when she and the rancher first meet, they fall in love, don't they? They have a fling, but then they can't stop thinking about each other, and he's great with her little boy, and eventually they get married, but not before someone else dies tragically. Am I right? Did I ruin the ending for you?"

"Bastard!" 99 said, throwing her book across the room until it hit the wall. "And I was just about to get to the sex scene, too!" she said as she crossed her arms and pouted at least semi-jokingly.

"And I'll bet that turns you on, doesn't it?" Max said, feeling smart and stupid for it at the same time.

"They always know exactly how to please a woman!"

"And here I thought this vampire shit was unrealistic," Max said, throwing his book across the room, where it ended up crashing into a second lamp sitting on the table beside the TV and toppling it over. "Whoops," he said as 99 laughed.

"Look," 99 said. "What's my cover for when we go back to school tomorrow?"

"That you're my wife. It makes the most sense."

"Did you mention to Mr. Katten that you were married?"

"No."

"Well, that'll be awkward. When's the last time you had sex?"

"No, that's awkward," Max said, not entirely surprised that she had been so blunt with the question; he deserved to be put into this position after putting forward his own similar query earlier. "And do you mean with someone besides myself, or…?"

"Could we seriously make this any more awkward?" 99 asked.

"Sure. I could describe my technique for dancing with myself."

"No visual aids, please."

"Sound effects?"

"Why would you need sound effects?"

"…Anyway," Max said, rightfully choosing which questions should be answered, "I honestly can't remember the last time I did it. You?"

"Same."

"Really? I find that hard to believe."

"Why? Do you just assume all pretty girls are whores?"

"No. But let's change the subject. Mr. Katten doesn't know I'm living in a motel, or that I have a wife. A fake wife, but a wife nonetheless."

"I, for one, believe in the separation of work and home," 99 said cheerfully in a play on the wisdom of Jefferson. "But in situations like these, I think the occasional exception is warranted."

"How's that?" Max said without any idea of the force he was about to unleash.

In a mad dash, 99 leapt off her bed in a manner that only resulted in falling hard on the carpeted floor. Raising her head and torso somewhat by resting her abs on her arms, she looked up at Max and said, "What are your thoughts on playing a grown-up version of house?"

For no real reason besides going with the flow she'd started, he rolled off his bed, nearly landing on her exposed hands, and joined her on the floor. When he lifted his head to continue the conversation, their faces were less than a foot away, and then Max realized she was looking at him the way he'd been wanting her to ever since he first met several hours ago. Maybe it was all part of the act required by their job, but that was a minor complaint. After all, how many famous Hollywood couples began as co-stars on the set?

"So," Max said. "Is it husband and wife time? Is that what's going on here?"

"We've got to be a convincing couple, don't we?" she replied.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

"Yes."

A second later, they stretched their heads closer and closer until their lips came together. What should have lasted only a second ended up taking more time than either of them had predicted it would, and it wasn't until almost a full minute had passed that the tongues retreated, followed shortly thereafter by the lips, then the faces, and finally the bodies. The two of them faced each other, leaning against the sides of the beds they had left in a truly exaggerated fashion. An awkward silence, less pressing than the frank sex talk, which admittedly in itself hadn't been all that excruciating, proceeded, and then 99 did her part to end the muting.

"Do you want to have sex?" she said, and Max could tell from that look in her eye that she was dead serious about the act of life.

"Surprisingly, no," Max shrugged. "It would be wrong, and it wouldn't feel right, but I'm not sure which of the two I'm more worried about."

"Good call," she nodded, making her way back up the sheets onto her bed. "I don't either."

"Want me to join you in there?" he asked as she began making herself comfortable under the sheets.

"Yes? No? I don't know, we're married."

"Okay," Max said as he followed her example and reentered the bed he had noisily exited. "Well…good night, then." He reached for the lamp and watched 99 cozy herself with white pillows and blue sheets, waiting for any possible sign not to turn off this light.

"Good night," she smiled, closing her eyes. "Honey."

Click.