Note: The "company ink" line comes courtesy of the JAG episode "Lifeline." The flower girl is yet another JAG ref, this time to Chloe. Huh - there are a lot of JAG refs in this fic. Weird. You'd think I like the show or something. :)

We have the same intrigues
As a court of kings
The beach house had two main attractions: it was more or less on the beach, and it was as cheap as sort-of beachfront property could get in California. The latter had become a very big selling point for Josh when he learned his dad would not be bankrolling that particular purchase. The neighborhood wasn't bad, either, and what did he need a real yard for when the ocean was right there? After Berto had to go looking for housing and Kat declared herself a tenant, paying rent got even easier - if the house itself got noticeably more crowded.

It was home, but with their lives, the kind of home you saw maybe once or twice a month. So the crowding and the tiny lot bothered exactly no one.

Until the morning after the foiled bank heist, when the sun rose on a veritable army of reporters setting up shop on the small front lawn.

"When did they get here?" Josh asked, peering through the blinds. It wasn't the best thing to see when you were still half-asleep. "And how can they all fit?"

"They're invading the neighbors' lots," Berto said around a doughnut. He'd already set up shop in the middle of the living room. The coffee table was now covered with computers and parts of computers. "They started getting here right after I did. One of the tabloids was the first, I think."

"Vultures," Josh muttered. He let the blinds drop and turned back to Berto. "Thanks for cutting things short, bro."

"No problem. I had to wait until 12:01 AM so I'd be there for the big day, but that was it."

Josh threw himself into one of the chairs. "Yeah, but it's your sister's fifteenth birthday. I know you wanted to be there - and your family wants you there."

Berto shrugged, busy eating breakfast and tweaking the connections on a pair of wires. "They understand. Well, they don't, actually, but they kept the comments to a minimum." He mimicked his mother's voice. " 'Roberto, what are you doing? You're so smart - why are you a just a manager?' Like I'm working at McDonald's."

"Sorry, bro."

"If it really bothered me, hermano, I wouldn't be here." Berto put the wires down. "Oh, and they called me in-flight to tell me they'd seen your story on the news."

Josh buried his face in his hands and groaned. "This only gets worse."

"How's Kat?"

"It was just a sprain. The doctors told her to take it easy for a few days and avoid walking on it. And apparently, you and I are such big suckers that she's happy to follow directions." Berto raised an eyebrow.

"Her words, not mine." Josh nodded in the direction of the laptop computer, which had been on nearly as many adventures as the rest of Team Steel combined. It was currently sprouting some unfamiliar wires. "What's up?"

"Oh. I've got it set up so that all incoming phone calls are routed through here first," he said, patting the machine fondly. "Screens out the news media. Which reminds me - Jefferson called about a half-hour ago. He wants to speak to you and Kat as soon as possible."

"It'll be kinda hard to get away with all those reporters camping out on the lawn," Josh said, trying not to sound bitter and failing. With a little nanoprobe effort, he could still see them through the gaps in between the blinds. They looked like a swarm of ants.

"Before or after the half-dozen sheriff's deputies arrive with a judicial restraining order and the lawyers to back it up?"

At that, Josh had to crack a smile. "You or Dad?"

"Him. I'm not that good."

Josh reluctantly stood again and went to wake up Kat, who had spent the night on the floor of the hallway. The beach house had exactly two bedrooms, both of them tiny, and as Kat had not been one of the original tenants, she'd refused to lay claim to either. She usually slept in the van, but that involved more walking than she'd wanted to attempt the night before - that, and the hospital's painkillers had been kicking in.

And she wasn't in a good mood now, even though the swelling in her ankle had gone down and she could walk on it without much difficulty. Josh and Berto wisely stayed out of her path until she had retracted her claws at least partway, which happened when the sheriff's deputies started banishing reporters.

While Josh got the car ready and Berto talked to the lawyers, Kat stood in the open doorway, leaning on the doorframe with her bandaged ankle prominently displayed, and heckled the retreating news crews. One hapless soul dared to talk back and got his metaphorical spine ripped out within seconds.

Having tasted blood, Kat was in a cheerier mood, and the drive to N-Tek's corporate headquarters was almost pleasant. The actual visit went downhill quickly.

"This is all your fault," she told him as they rode the elevator up.

He stared at her in open astonishment. "MY fault? How do you figure that?"

"You made the bet. Your fault." And with that, she pushed past him, shoving open the doors of his father's office and striding in.

He gritted his teeth and followed her.

"Good morning," Jefferson Smith said. "I hope you didn't have any trouble with the paparazzi?"

Kat shook her head. She didn't sit down.

"I hope we'll have less trouble with them from now on," Josh said. He did sit down. No sense standing to hear bad news.

Jefferson made a noncommittal noise which did not reassure anyone. "Before we get into the subject of the day's meeting, I want to make sure about something."

This was going to be bad, but Josh gestured for him to go ahead anyway. "Shoot."

Jefferson fixed them each in turn with a sharp-eyed stare. "You aren't dating. Correct?"

Kat laughed a little and said, "I don't dip my pen in company ink. No offense, boss."

Josh had a slightly different reaction. "Jeez, Dad, I told you that last night! Do you not trust me anymore?"

"I'm not sure," Jefferson said, still in full attack mode. "You have a bad history with this."

Josh felt a weight be simultaneously lifted from and dropped on his soul. "Did Berto tell you?"

Jefferson shook his head. "She did."

Kat, looking from one to the other, opened her mouth and shut it again immediately. But the light of understanding in her eyes was unmistakable.

"Well, fantastic." Josh slouched down in his chair. "So I win the Bad Son and/or Employee of the Year award. Anything else?"

"Just a few things." And so saying, Jefferson slid a newspaper across the table. It was face down.

"What's this?" Josh took the paper as if it was rigged with explosives, and didn't turn it over. The back page looked okay - nothing pertaining to himself or the company. He was afraid to see what was on the front page.

Jefferson leaned back in his chair. " 'USA Today'."

Josh flipped the paper over and flinched.

" 'Extreme love'?" Kat read, giving it a question mark even though the headline didn't have one. "More like extreme gagging. Give me that."

She snatched the paper away from him and he made no move to stop her. Instead he gave his father a thoroughly disillusioned glare. "Our best interests, huh?"

Jefferson was not fazed. "Josh. Let me acquaint you with something called 'the bottom line'."

"I know what that means," he said, being surly because he felt entitled to it. "I passed Economics."

In a suitably indignant voice, Kat started reading from the article: " 'Team Steel has been heating up the extreme sports circuit for months. Now it seems their star athletes are heating things up behind the scenes, too.' Give me a break! This is journalism?"

"For N-Tek, the bottom line has been looking a little unhealthy lately," Jefferson went on, calmly ignoring Kat's outburst. "The PR department is of the opinion that free publicity is the best publicity."

" 'McGrath and Ryan are poised to become the sporting world's answer to Ben and Jen.' Ben and Jen? Kill me now." She waved the paper at Jefferson. "If I burn this, will the fire alarm go off?"

"Yes, so don't," he told her, then shifted back to Josh. "In the past few hours, we've had more media exposure than in the last few months. When people are talking about you two, they're talking about N-Tek. In that article alone - and I was serious when I said not to burn that, Ryan - they mention the company six times."

Josh glanced at Kat, saw she was putting away a lighter, and gave her an exasperated look. She made a face, which he returned.

"America loves a good romance," Jefferson said, apparently oblivious to the negative undercurrent running between the supposed romantics. "And you two have been elected flavor of the month."

Josh couldn't take it. He slammed a fist on the arm of his chair and shouted, "Except it's not real!"

"Are any of these things ever real?" Jefferson countered, raising his eyebrows. "Look, I understand what you're saying. Now understand what I'm saying: N-Tek needs this."

"You want us to fake it," Kat said flatly.

"I want you to not deny it. The media will feed off of itself." He reached out a hand for the newspaper and Kat reluctantly passed it back. Josh noticed that one corner was slightly scorched. "Are we all clear on this issue?"

"I don't know, Dad, it's kind of fuzzy to me," Josh said, still feeling surly.

Jefferson speared him with the kind of killer death glare only a father could give his child. It said volumes and Josh dropped his eyes to the floor, intimidated despite himself. "Now, go out there and put on a happy face for your adoring public."

"We'll try, sir," Kat said, as they both headed for the door with various degrees of enthusiasm. She elbowed Josh sharply in the ribs. "Happy face, McGrath."

The best he could do was mutter a decidedly flat, "Yee-ha."