Stone Cold was spending every single night at Elizabeth's.

Before he was arrested and hauled off to jail, he'd at least made an attempt. He spent five nights a week at her place and two at his penthouse. He tried to have his coffee at his penthouse and go through his papers there just so they could both cling to the illusion that he was still an independent man with a place of his own, not some shmoopy co-dependent.

Now…that was not so much the case.

Not so much the case at all.

Penthouse 4 might have still legally belonged to one Jason Morgan, but Spinelli was the only one living there. Jason spent every night for the past month at Elizabeth's, no doubt exacting the terms of their deal that had him visiting her grandparents every Friday. Spinelli preferred not to think of such lewd things as his beloved, pristine (or, rather, formerly pristine before the Dragon sank her claws into him) mentor getting it regularly. Frankly, such things disgusted him.

Probably because he wasn't getting any, and his prospects didn't look to be improving anytime soon.

Jason even had coffee with the Dragon, and Spinelli had it on excellent authority (from Milo, who was once unlucky enough to walk in on them) that they liked to lounge around on the couch in their pajamas - or sometimes abhorrent lack thereof - until they had to change and shower and join Mister Corinthos Sir for breakfast in Penthouse 2. Once there, the routine appeared even stranger. Stone Cold and the Dragon hardly spoke to each other directly unless the conversation called for it. Stone Cold would never turn to the Dragon and ask her what her day ahead was to entail, nor would the Dragon comment on what Stone Cold was wearing.

They participated in general conversation but never initiated it specifically with each other, but their actions, more than their words, were highly perplexing. The Dragon had started fixing Stone Cold's coffee. It was easy enough since he didn't take it with milk or sugar, but still. And Stone Cold, in turn, took to making sure there was plenty of sugar on the table for the Dragon to stir into her coffee, or that the whipped cream she liked to have on her crepes was readily on hand for her breakfast enjoyment.

It was getting quite sickening, that.

So with his mentor's absence felt even more acutely thanks to the Dragon, Spinelli took to spending even more time on his own. This proved extremely dangerous before long and he learned his lesson, so he then took to spending more time with Mister Corinthos Sir, who seemed to appreciate the company and was likely suffering the same withdrawal when it came to his own ward. They never really did much. Mister Corinthos Sir had become quite the homebody, not unlike Spinelli, and he'd think nothing of Spinelli coming over with Princess Peach (who had recovered nicely from the Orange Soda Tsunami of a month earlier) and plopping down on his couch. They didn't talk all that much, just sparse, easy conversation, and Sonny never sent him home without being sure he was properly fed.

The abundance of food and hospitality in the Corinthos home both delighted and depressed Spinelli. On the one hand, he'd never in his life had gourmet food with such regularity. Mister Corinthos Sir was a most excellent cook and never quite mastered the art of cooking for just one or two people, so there was always a lot left over and Spinelli had gotten into the habit of having leftovers for lunch. When he didn't eat with Mister Corinthos Sir the night before, he was in the habit of tossing meat, vegetables, and a cup of water in the slow cooker he'd received on his birthday and having stew for lunch or dinner. Stew was what he'd grown up on, all different sorts, and was oddly comforting.

It also reminded him that the spectacular cuisine was not something to get used to, as he'd most likely be out on the streets before the end of the year since he'd demonstrated with no degree of uncertainty that he was just a shade behind the Dragon in talent and mastery.

There was, however, an elephant in the room whenever he and Mister Corinthos Sir sat down together. It was, of course, the position of the tech guru, for lack of a better word, for the Corinthos-Morgan organization. Stone Cold never spoke of the terms of the position or the candidates; such things were beneath him now, Spinelli assumed. Mister Corinthos Sir was a generally unflappable sort and didn't mention it either. But every time Spinelli was around him, he kept expecting Sonny to open his mouth and gently but firmly tell him that he hadn't made the cut and that he and Jason agreed that he was to be off their property in two weeks' time.

The Dragon, meanwhile, was most at ease. She was secure in her victory and couldn't be troubled; her spirits simply couldn't be soured. She wrote her articles for her online tech magazine, she attended her classes at PCU, she did whatever little assignments Sonny sent her way, and she spent time with Stone Cold. The two of them had indeed fallen into a routine of co-dependence and what was more, actually seemed pleased about it. From what Spinelli understood, they hadn't yet exchanged the three fatal words, but for all appearances they might as well have.

Life in the world of Corinthos-Morgan was idyllic. Everyone had stepped into the niche that had been carved for him or her and things were going wonderfully, smoothly, perfectly. Spinelli, of course, didn't think he could share in this almost nauseating harmony. Every night as he lay in bed, trying vainly to get some sleep, he ran a quick mental check of all his possessions stowed away economically in the closet, and thought about how, if he had to, he could be out of here in a moment's notice, gone without a trace. And he wondered, in a year, in two, in five, if they'd even remember him. ~*~*~*~*~*~

Elizabeth always thought she'd be a lousy co-dependent.

She mostly thought this because of the boys. Ritchie and Milo were the first to tell her that she was a horrid, stubborn brat that always wanted her own way, and it became a self-fulfilling prophesy of sorts. If they thought of her as someone that would fight until she got her way, then that was what Elizabeth would do because she already knew that they were at least a little predisposed to giving in. This dynamic was established not long after her full recovery from the accident, when most of the men in Sonny's employ were fully used to her presence and didn't resent her the attention she got from Sonny.

They told her she was stubborn, they told her she was selfish, they told her she was narcissistic, they told her she was neurotic and a shrieking harridan, but they only meant that in the best way possible. She knew how the men felt about her, men like Stan and Ritchie and Francis. Elizabeth knew that as much as they complained about her and pretended to be put out by her presence sometimes, they enjoyed her company in a collegial way. They were always available to lend an ear when she needed to vent, and they always stopped in specifically to ask her if she'd like to go with them to Jake's. Aside from all that, they let her know with little gestures - refueling her car before it hit the quarter-tank mark, making sure the waitresses at Kelly's remembered the chocolate sprinkles on her cocoa, things like that - that they considered her a friend, someone to care for and be cared for by.

And Elizabeth always did her best to live up to that. There wasn't a whole lot she could do for those men, not a whole lot they'd let her do, but she tried nonetheless. It was pretty much a given that if any of them ever had computer troubles, she'd be over as soon as possible to help out. She had been on the phone with Ritchie for an hour, remotely advising him when he set out to put together a wireless network in his sister's house; she carefully explained to Francis how to operate his DVR and even wrote it out, step by step, and she cracked Johnny's iPhone to allow a different phone carrier. They knew she was handy with that sort of thing and she was the first person they called. If she was busy, it fell on Stan, who was a very quick learner and becoming more skilled by the day even though his primary area of expertise lay in bombs and wires and that sort of thing.

But aside from that, she tried to be helpful in more traditional ways. Feminism on principle annoyed her; she saw it as a rather convoluted set of ideas. Elizabeth understood that it argued against a woman having to do certain things - cooking, cleaning, watching Oprah, being barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen - simply because she was a woman, but she felt the paradox lay in the fact that hard-line feminism also argued against women doing certain things - crying, adoring the color pink, wearing strappy stilettos that were a bitch to walk in but looked gorgeous - because they were women. So she pushed those things aside and let herself be a useful friend to the men around her in a more traditional sense.

Thanks to Sonny, she'd become a rather decent cook and knew what her friends liked to eat. Ritchie, being a down home Italian boy, loved lasagna and Parmesans, so she made him a big pan of it for his birthday and special occasions when she invited him and the others over. Francis loved canolis, so she bought the shells at the store and made the filling herself, at times experimenting with different flavors and extracts. Johnny loved macaroni and cheese, and she'd perfected her recipe by trying it out, over and over, on him. It passed with flying colors every time. It really didn't put her out at all to be able to do these things for her friends, each of whom had done so much for her, and Elizabeth was happy to do it.

Aside from that, she liked to be the gal pal that they could come to when it came to advice on women. They realized she wasn't the typical woman what with her accident and all, but the men figured that she was the best they had. So they'd come to her when they wanted to know how to properly flirt with a girl so they'd get her in their bed, instead of getting a slap in the face. They called her up if they ever needed advice on clothing. And they emailed her particularly confusing voicemail messages left by those of her gender so that she might decode them and make sense of the passive-aggressive rants.

So from all this, Elizabeth knew that she was good enough to keep around that way, but always figured that if some poor sucker was stuck with her around the clock - Sonny didn't count - that she would make them both miserable. And she could not have been more delighted to learn that this was not the case.

Or at least, she suspected it wasn't the case. After all, Jason hadn't run out of her penthouse screaming just yet (although he had once threatened to, minus the screaming part) so she figured she might have been doing something right after all.

At first she thought it was the sex. The mind-blowing sex. (Was there any other kind? Not as far as Jason was concerned, as she'd discovered early on.) Sex had a way of bringing people together (ha!) and she knew that it was what kept Jason attracted to her in the beginning.

Even when he was so mad at her that he could spit, he still tossed that all away if the promise of indiscretion hung in the air. He was a rough, noisy lover and had a way of bringing out that side in her, too, and for a long time she felt that the sexual connection above all was what was keeping the two of them from biting each other's heads off any time they had to be in public...together...with their clothes on.

But as time passed, the sex faded into the background, replaced by other things. More meaningful things, she might have called them, if she hadn't been so averse to the prospect. She got to know a lot about Jason, about the sort of man he was, and although there were a few things she rather disliked, there were many, many more that she didn't. And if she hadn't been so afraid of the word, Elizabeth Webber might have even admitted that she was falling in love with the man.

And now they were practically living together. Well, really, they were living together. He was over every night, he stayed until morning, hell, he stayed until he absolutely had to be at the warehouse. And as soon as he was done he came home to her, and they either stayed in or went to Jake's or went for a ride, and then had dinner with Sonny, and then figured out something to do after that. They'd settled into a routine, and surprisingly enough, the concept and reality were not entirely revolting.

Elizabeth was actually happy with the way things were.

Provided nothing changed.

And provided he didn't do anything stupid.

She glared at him out of the corner of her eye, watching him scratch himself as he flipped through the channels so fast that the television was more like a strobe light than a means of entertainment.

Boys always did such stupid things.

Nerds. All of them.

Jason caught her staring and arched a brow. "What are you thinking about?"

Elizabeth batted her lashes at him and returned to her book, knowing that he hadn't liked the look in her eyes and wanted an explanation. "Oh, nothing." ~*~*~*~*~*~

Spinelli set his plate in the sink and returned to the main room of Penthouse 2. They had chicken with broiled peaches and goat cheese, accompanied by a side of perfectly cooked spinach with pistachios, and he was absolutely stuffed. Stone Cold and the Dragon had already flopped down on the couch, his arm stretched out behind her and her head resting on his shoulder, and Mister Corinthos Sir was rummaging through the wet bar for port.

With a sigh, he drew closer and lingered behind an arm chair, trailing his fingers over the back of it.

"Look, all I'm saying is that the new expansion plan for ELQ is stupid. You come from a stupid family."

Jason rolled his eyes, but Spinelli saw his fingers move gently up and down her arm. "You should talk. Your grandfather pulls out the same pocketwatch every single time we go visit them and talks about how it's been in your family since the first world war. Every single damn time."

"Don't insult my grandfather."

"You don't even like him."

"Correction," she said, wagging a finger at Jason as she simultaneously accepted a glass of port from Sonny. "I barely like him. There's a difference."

"You've called him an old goat about seventy times since I met you."

"So?" Elizabeth remained stubborn in her dictate. "I can call him whatever I want. You can't."

Spinelli watched Jason shoot her an amused look. "So why do you get to say that I come from a stupid family?"

She pulled a face. "Because you do. It's an elementary statement of the facts. I'm not saying anything that hasn't been proven over and over, you know."

Jason sighed heavily but shared a beleaguered look with Sonny, and Spinelli couldn't even articulate the feeling of obscurity that came over him just then, all of a sudden, in a single instant with one single look. He felt forgotten, overlooked and easily so, and as if he could no longer reasonably expect to be a part of this scene anymore. It was good, he thought, as he pulled away from them. It was good that he felt this way, that he got used to this feeling, got used to the way things were.

"I-I'm going to head out for a bit," he managed to choke out, his hand frantically clutching at the doorknob. "Be back later."

"Honestly, if I came from a family as dumb as yours, I'd have to shoot myself."

Spinelli sighed, shutting the door as Elizabeth chattered on, and leaned against it in the hallway.