As the sun descended beneath the horizon, dragging the fading light of the afternoon along with it, the hustle and bustle of the day came to a peaceful standstill. Roman and Dean lounged on the sofa, bellies sated and mostly-eaten take-out containers of General Tso and Kung Pao chicken resting in their laps as the ending credits of Rocky rolled on the TV screen. They chattered back-and-forth nonsensically—from their favorite sports teams to Seth and his never-ending struggle with his blonde patch—but dared not to tread water on the subject of Roddy's return. Unknown to the other, both men had mentally decided that it was better to leave that topic for another day. Or another year. Or another century.

During a lull in their easy conversation, Dean rose from his nest, turning off the DVD player and twiddling with the TV's antenna for a few moments before the pixelated fuzz on the screen cleared to a grainy rerun of All in the Family. He padded back over toward his companion and stretched his hand out in a "gimme" motion, and Roman passed his lukewarm carton of chicken over with a nod of thanks. A gentle creaking on the stairs alerted the Samoan to another presence, and he turned his attention from Edith's nasally whine and toward the slowly appearing Brittany as her heels clicked across the hardwood. His eyes widened in surprise as the girl finally came into view—when she said that she was "out to impress," she'd meant it.

"How do I look?"

Her sandpapery coif fell over her shoulders in a cascade of soft curls, partially obscuring the intricate scoop-laced neckline of the dress she wore that made only to show off the long line of her toned legs. Her pink lacquered lips were drawn up in a bow, and the smudged kohl around her emerald eyes accentuated the orbs as they sparkled gem-like in the soft lamplight. The girl, well woman, absolutely glowed (if that was even possible).

"Wow," Roman gasped, having finally found his voice.

Dean emerged from the kitchen, sapphire orbs saucer-like as he spotted his roommate standing awkwardly on the landing. "You can say that again."

The girl blushed rosily and tugged the hem of her skirt further down her thighs. "Oh, you guys," she grinned, eyes positively alight with elation.

"So, when's your, uh, date picking you up?" Dean coughed, wringing his hands together nervously.

"Around 6:30. I'm kinda worried about this one, though, Mr. Ambrose. The other gals told me he makes some good money, so I'm kinda hopin' I can keep 'im as a regular client. Heaven knows I need it."

Dean nodded in understanding and shuffled back to the sofa, plopping himself down with a bounce. "I already told ya I ain't worried about the rent," he said, waving a hand in dismissal. "It's kinda nice having someone to share this place with. Well, uh, now a couple people to share it with, I guess. And you don't have to call me Mr. Ambrose either. Feels like I'm your pimp or something."

"We don't have those anymore," Britt replied with a roll of her jewel-like eyes. "We're independent women just trying to make a buck. Our body, our rules." She stepped off the landing and strolled toward the window beside the sofa, peeking through the blinds with a squint. "Hm, that's strange."

Roman cocked his head to the side, confused. "What is?"

"You drive that big ol' truck, right? The white one?" A nod. "And I parked Mr. Ambr- Dean's car out back this afternoon, so whose Cavalier is that? Never seen the neighbors drive one of those."

Dean's breath hitched in his throat, a wave of dread overcoming him. The only person he knew who had driven a Cavvie (besides a few other kids in high school) was the one person he didn't want to see… at all. How the fuck would he be here anyway? I made that shit up! It's not possible… is it? A gentle rapping on the front door snapped the man out of his muddled thoughts, and he silently panicked as Brittany made to greet the somewhat-unexpected company. Please don't be him, please don't be him, please don't be hi-

"Uhm, hello?" Britt greeted, eyebrow quirked in surprise. "Are you here to see Mr. Ambrose?"

The man standing on the other side of the door was handsome, to say the least (and not Sami, to Dean's overwhelming relief). The suave swoop of reddish hair and amicable, toothy grin caught Dean off-guard, and he scratched absentmindedly at the scruff on his chin. This guy looks familiar. Apparently Roman had the same reaction, as he leaned forward ever-so-slightly to take a closer glimpse at the newcomer.

"No, uh, actually… I'm here to pick up a Miss Brittany Adams? You wouldn't happen to be her, would you?" the stranger questioned in an utterly-adorable Southern twang.

"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, completely dumbstruck. "I, uh, I usually meet my clients at the sidewalk- shut up!" she hissed, glaring daggers at her roommate over her shoulder as Dean failed to muffle his chuckle. "Sorry, you'll have to excuse him. He can be a right pain sometimes."

The man peered into the living room, and upon noticing Dean and Roman staring inquisitively, he gave a small, timid wave. "Uh, hi? I-is this a bad time? I can reschedule if it's better for you…"

"Huh? Oh, no! U-unless you want to, of course."

"Well, ah, it just seems like you have a lot on your plate right now, so to speak," he explained, sheepishly gesturing toward the two other men.

Brittany furrowed her brows and quickly glanced back at her pals before returning her attention to the charming redhead standing in the doorway. "Wait… oh my lord, you think these goofs are my clients?"

"Well, I mean…"

The man's reply was interrupted by a boisterous chuckle as the girl tipped her head back in understanding. "Oh, oh my lord, you'll have to excuse me," she apologized, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "But y-you really think I'd sleep with them?" A loud "ahem" came from the other side of the room, and she glanced back again to roll her eyes at the sour expression that twisted Dean's features. "Oh, you hush. It was only once, anyway." She leaned forward ever-so-slightly and brought a hand up to her mouth in a not-quite whisper. "Honestly, it wasn't even that good. Man only lasted five minutes and begged me to call him 'daddy.' Right freak, there."

Roman quirked a brow and peered up at his friend with a look of "oh really?" (to which he was met with an icy glare).

"But no, really. Mr. Ambro- uh, Dean is just my roommate, and that's his friend Roman. Dean's letting me stay here until I get back on my feet."

The suave stranger nodded, relief sparkling in his orbs. "That definitely makes me feel better," he smiled. "A-are you ready to leave, then? I left the car running since it's pretty chilly out this evening."

"Sure am!" Brittany grinned. "Y'all try not to have too much fun," she winked, and with a parting wave toward her friends, the couple set off.

"So… 'daddy'?" Roman asked after the pair had left.

"Yeah, baby?" Dean replied absentmindedly, once again fiddling with the rabbit ears atop the television. Gulping and eyes bulging in horror, he soon realized what word-vomit had unfortunately spilled from his lips. "Uh, n-no! What the fuck? She was just, ah, trying to make herself look better," he backpedaled, the tell-tale crimson flush of embarrassment creeping on his cheeks. "God, is it hot in here? Feels really hot in here. Like a fucking sauna or something. L-let me go turn the heat down, okay? Fucking Brittany and her damn desert conditions. Surprised all that makeup she cakes on doesn't melt off."

"Mhmm, sure," Ro muttered, side-eyeing the man. He gingerly rose from his perch with a groan, joints popping and crackling under the strain, and padded toward the staircase with a huff of contempt. "Gonna go take a leak," he gritted out as his knee throbbed in pain with each step ascended.

Dean nodded distractedly in reply as he set to lower the thermostat, heart beating way too fast for his liking. The auburn glanced up the stairwell with a wistful sigh. "Fuck, that was close."

As the Samoan finally reached the top of the creaky death-trap, he mentally pumped his fists in the air in triumph as "Gonna Fly Now" rolled through his head. As small a victory as it was to some people, Roman couldn't help but be pleased that his body had cooperated with him (at least for the time being, anyway). He bopped down the darkened hallway, being mindful to step over the squeaky floorboards that littered the second story. A sudden thought of tumbling through the floor and into the kitchen below made the man chuckle darkly, but he shook the blackened fantasy from his mind with a roll of his eyes, instead trying to focus on making it toward the bathroom without stumbling over the worn-down carpet. The creak of un-oiled door hinges startled him, and he glanced up fearfully, a heavy sigh of relief escaping his lungs as Roddy appeared toward the end of the hallway.

"Aye, lad. Looks like ya seen a ghost or somethin'," the Scott grinned mischievously, padding toward the startled Samoan.

A bizarre wave of unnerving dread washed over Roman, and he took a hesitant step backwards. "Oh, y-yeah, I forgot you were staying here," he chuckled nervously, rubbing a large hand over the fine bristles of hair standing straight up on the back of his neck. "Sorry if I woke you up."

"No worries, m'boy," Roddy shrugged, each footstep bringing him closer and closer to the absolutely (and bizarrely) petrified raven. "Couldn't sleep anyway. Feelin' sorta… odd, to say the least."

"You don't say…"

"Real nice of your friend to let me stay here, though," Piper continued, boots clunking over the floorboards. "Nice big house. It'd be a shame to not have company once in a while," he remarked, gesturing toward the suddenly suffocating walls surrounding them. "Don't ya think? Y-you don't look well, lad. Is something ailing ya?"

Roman cringed, statue-like legs rooting him to the spot in terror. His lungs were tight, each breath passing between his tightly-pressed lips like sucking in air through a swizzle stick. Roddy slowly brought his hand up, gently grazing the back of his palm against the Samoan's forehead with an inquisitive stare. Their eyes locked, each man's breath held in trepidation. An almost electric-like tingle radiated at the point of contact, and Roman let his eyes fall closed, relishing in the strange sensation. As if a piece of his shattered soul had clicked into place. As if he was a step closer to completion. Unlike but somewhat akin to the spark passed between Dean and himself each time they touched.

The older man pulled his appendage back and let it drop to his side, a matching look of incredulousness on his stress-wrinkled face. "Y-you're a bit clammy, lad. Best be getting' home and hop into bed 'fore the bug bites ya," he stuttered, brushing past the Samoan and toward the staircase, heavy footfalls echoing in his strangely quick retreat.

Roman glanced behind him, staggered breaths finally evening out into a gentle rhythm. He gingerly lifted a shaking hand and traced over the tingling mark on his flesh, a thousand jumbled thoughts whirring through his frazzled brain. For a second, if even just in his own imagination, he could've sworn that he'd seen galaxies in Roddy's eyes.

The ride along the twisting highway seemed to last a lifetime, and Brittany grew increasingly anxious with each bumpy mile. The conversation between the couple was light-hearted and easy, simple questions like "What kind of movies do you like?" and "What's your favorite flavor of ice cream?" passing through the warm cabin of the Cavalier. As the bright lights of Summersville came into view, she smiled and quirked a brow, glancing over at her client.

"Didn't know ya lived in Summersville, Mr. Slater," she remarked, reaching up to brush a curly lock of sandpaper out of her eyes. "You work up here too?"

The redhead flashed her a grin of his own. "Call me Heath. And yep, but I'm originally from Lumberport. 'Bout two hours away, give or take. I travel a bit for work, though. Been all over the east coast surveying different pipelines, but I'm stationed at the one in Wellsboro for now, thankfully."

"Oh, I ain't been up there, before. Haven't really gone anywhere, to be honest."

Heath frowned slightly and flipped the turn signal on before coasting into an expansive plaza, the neon lights of different restaurants and shops illuminating the evening sky in a technicolor glow. "Really now? Well, we'll have to change that."

The girl furrowed her brows and glanced out the window, an uneasy feeling settling itself in the pit of her stomach. Heath threw the coupe into park and unbuckled his seatbelt, throwing an expectant glance Brittany's way as she stared on in confusion. "What's the matter, darlin'?" he questioned, head cocked to the side. "You not a fan of Italian? 'Cause we could go somewhere else. I-it's no problem."

Sucking in a shaky breath, Britt turned in her seat, a baffled look in her emerald orbs. "No, I-I like Italian just fine. It's just…"

"You weren't expecting this."

The blonde frowned and nodded slightly. "You're definitely not like the other clients I've had."

Heath quirked a small smile toward the girl, reaching over to place his hand atop one of her own. "Honestly, I kinda lied. I've seen ya at the gas station a few times and knew that I wanted to get to know ya better. Found out ya do, well, this on the side and figured it was the only way I wouldn't come off as desperate. That… that actually sounds pretty awful, doesn't it?"

"Well, a bit creepy, to be honest," Brittany replied with a smirk. "And truthfully, most of my clients are pretty desperate, b… but really? Like, you aren't put off by my, ah, career choice?"

"I mean, it isn't my first choice, but hey, it's your body. Never understood why people looked down on it anyway. As long as you're safe, I see no harm. Well, uh, I mean I wouldn't really appreciate it when we get to our third date."

"When? And this is a date?"

"If… I-I mean if," he corrected diffidently. "And, uh, yeah. If you want it to be? 'Cause, I mean, I do. Wow… I really am a creep. Let me just take you back and forget all about it-"

"No!" the girl exclaimed, grabbing the man's wrist in pause. "I mean… yeah, I think I'd like that. The date, that is."

Heath gave her a long look before the corners of his mouth turned up in a bright grin. "Okay! I mean, cool. Yeah… oh man, I sound so desperate right now."

Brittany shook her head and unbuckled her seatbelt before opening the passenger-side door and sliding out into the chilly night. "C'mon, then," she beckoned, "I'm so hungry I could eat the north end of a south-bound polecat."

Heath nodded and exited the vehicle in a hurry, rounding the rear to meet his date with a hooked arm. The girl laughed and looped her arm around his, the uneasy that had plagued her belly hatching into brilliant, fluttering butterflies. As the couple strolled toward the bistro in the distance, the stars twinkled brightly above, constellations dotting the inky expanse in sparkling formations like celestial guardians.

Miss Brittany "good for nothin'" Adams on a date?

Mama would be so proud.

"You sure you don't wanna stick around awhile longer?" Dean questioned as Roman shrugged his jacket on and retrieved his keys from the end-table in a peculiar rush. "There's four more movies in the series, and I think Britt has some vodka stashed around here somewhere."

Roman shook his head, not daring to meet his friend's worried gaze. "Naw, thanks though. Gotta get home and do some cleaning."

"It's 7 o'clock on a Saturday evening. I think cleaning can wait until tomorrow."

The Samoan shook his head again in refusal. "J-just gotta go. Not feeling well. I'll see ya sometime, okay?"

"Sometime?" Dean asked, utterly confused. "What the fuck does sometime mean? Are you okay? D-did something happen?" He reached out to place a comforting hand on the man's arm, but Roman flinched away, a flicker of fear in his steely orbs. "Ro, c'mon."

"I'll call you or something. Promise."

In a blur, Roman was out the door and hobbling off toward his truck, an unsettling wobble in his step. A whirlwind of questions spun through Dean's mind, and he scratched at his stubbly chin in contemplation as he watched the other man's hasty retreat. What in the hell's gotten into him?

"It's my fault, Dean."

The auburn's ears perked up, and he abruptly about-faced, staring inquisitively at the Scott who was half-hiding behind the kitchen's doorframe. "What? What do you mean?"

Roddy frowned, crestfallen. "I messed up," he started, slowly padding into the living room. "And I don't know how to fix it."

"What are you talking about?"

"I had a, ah, momentary lapse in reason and touched 'im."

No. Fuck no. Please don't tell me… "Wha- are we quoting Pink Floyd albums now? I don't know how that's messed up, though. Unless you grabbed his package or something. Which then is pretty daring considering you just met the guy this afternoon. 'Sides, he's like 30 years younger than you-"

"Dean, please," Roddy pleaded, a pained expression plastered across his weathered features. "Just let me speak."

With a gulp, Ambrose fixated his gaze on the man, stomach in knots. There was a raw openness to Roddy's eyes that spooked the auburn. Something so intangible and imperceptible, as if the entire universe was encompassed within his silvery orbs. It chilled the man to the bone, his senses enveloped by the cosmic deities existing within. "O-okay," he finally stuttered, giving the man leeway to speak. "I'm listening."

The Scott scrunched his eyes shut and carded a hand through his silver-streaked locks. With a heavy sigh of apprehension, he began. "I know who you are."