"So, is it always going to be like that?" Nathan broke the comfortable silence they had been lounging in.

It was nice, the silence. The apartment was calm for once. If Charles listened very closely he could almost hear the refrigerator humming. He didn't even need to listen closely to hear Nathan's heart beating; it was right there, under his ear. It was comfortable and solid and Charles hoped it would continue to beat for a good long time. It may have been silly, but he had half expected the roof to cave in the moment they were done.

"Like what?" he questioned sleepily. It would have been nice to fall asleep and take advantage of the calm, but by the time he woke up, Pickles would be back and the apartment would most likely be returned to chaos.

"You know," Nathan look a bit embarrassed, "So... intense?"

Charles propped his head up and looked thoughtful. "You know, I don't know." he said with wonderment.

"How can you not know, I thought you'd done this before?" Nathan looked hurt, like maybe Charles had been lying about dating guys.

"Well, I have, just never more than once with the same person."

"What?"

"They always died before we could do it again."

Now Nathan looked worried. "They died right after having sex you?"

"Not right after, no." Charles was looking a little worried himself. He hadn't consciously realized the correlation. "It was just always before we could do it again."

A thought occurred to Nathan. "Right. Let's do it again."

"What? Right now?"

"Yes, right now." Confirmed Nathan, rummaging around in the sheets. "Where'd the lube go?"

Charles squirmed a bit and determined that's what had been digging into his side. He handed the bottle to Nathan. "But it's too-I'm not-!"

Nathan pushed Charles on to his back, ignoring his feeble protests. He worked his way kissing and nibbling down Charles' chest with a clear destination in mind.

Oh. Okay. This could be good. Charles shelved his previous objections.

Seeing Charles relax into it Nathan looked up at him to smirk. "The guys were kind of explaining this to me and I've been wanting to try."

"Pickles?" Charles guessed.

"And Skwisgaar too." Oh, wow. That was… unexpected, he was such a hit with all things female. The boys were just full of surprises. "It was great; Murderface curled up under the table and started to cry."

Charles laughed and stretched out, trying to bring as much of their skin into contact as possible. "Right. I wish I could have seen that." Charles had started to take a vicious sort of pleasure in making Murderface uncomfortable. Retaliation, if you will, for the stains that would never come out of his once spotless sofa.

Nathan chuckled but got back to the matter at hand. From the living room they heard the sound of a door opening. It was probably just Pickles, and he was unlikely to interrupt them.

Nathan, still a little unsure, even after all the advice, used his hand to stroke, once, twice, watching as Charles grew to full hardness. Nathan blew teasingly on the head and stroked fingers lightly up his inner thigh. Charles squirmed and whimpered and tried to keep his voice down. Nathan moved his head to lick tantalizingly close to the base and tasted the sweat there. Charles squirmed some more before giving it and crying out. "Just do it!"

Nathan, done teasing, readied himself for the final blow, a trick Skwisgaar had demonstrated on a long neck beer bottle that had made Murderface leave the room. Before he could complete the movement, the door swung open.

"Charlie?" a voice questioned.

That wasn't Pickles. It was too feminine.

Charles looked to the doorway with an expression of pure terror, only one person on earth still called him Charlie.

"MOTHER?"

-

It had been a long time since Mrs. Offdensen, Nina if you didn't mind, Mrs. always made her feel old, had heard from her one and only son. There used to be phone calls, once a week, on Sunday nights like clockwork. But then something had happened. There had been half mentions of gorillas and death and Charlie had started telling her a confusing story about the floor collapsing and suddenly he was too busy on weekends to call his dear old mum. There had been a handful of short emails since, no personal information but he had mentioned passing the bar. Mostly they read like a template on polite but impersonal post cards. How are you, everything's fine, how's the weather? So she packed up her things and decided to pay him a visit. A fact finding mission if you will. She had called and left him a message informing him of her flight and when he failed to meet her at the airport she figured he was still "busy" and took a taxi. She tried to call the apartment, but there was no answer. When she arrived, bags in tow, she knock, polite like one should be. When there was no response again she stopped being polite and went back to being a mother. The door was unlocked, sloppy Charlie, so she took her maternal prerogative and barged right in. The place was a mess, whatever Charlie had been busy with, it certainly wasn't cleaning. Clothing everywhere, dirty dishes, and, dear god, what had happened to the sofa? She could have sworn the last time she had visited it had been white. There was some sort of muffled yelp from the closed bedroom door. Nina couldn't tell what her son was up to, but he was about to get a lecture on the merits and importance of cleanliness.

Nina barged right into the room, scathing words on the tip of her tongue.

"CHARLIE!"

Oh, so that's what he meant by 'busy'. Nina could understand. With a guy like that, she'd be busy too.

Author Notes: I would be much obliged if ever week or so someone could bug me to update this. Odds are good that I've written the next part but am just too lazy to edit and post it. Also, thanks again to all the wonderful people who keep favoriting this. And an extra special thanks to Otherwise Known As . . . for commenting on every chapter, I can't even being to tell you how much you made my day.