Note: The end of this part has been borrowed (more or less) from an episode of Wings. I don't remember the name of the episode, but it was great.

And should you really chase so hard
The truth of sport plays rings around you
Josh spent most of day five asleep. There wasn't much reason to be awake if the media was going to keep them pinned inside; and since day four had included a decidedly ill-fated public trip out of the house, he wasn't anxious to repeat the experience.

When he finally did get up - some time after noon - no one else from Team Steel was there, so he made some food, went back to his room, and hung out for another few hours. He had a stack of novels that his dad had given him but he'd never gotten around to; reading was just kind of... boring, compared to being outside and doing stuff. He'd done more reading in the last five days than he had in a year.

He wandered back out for dinner and found Berto sitting on the floor of the living room with a half-eaten pizza and a box of electrician's tools next to him.

"What's getting autopsied?"

"Nothing. I'm building." Berto gestured at the mess of circuitboards and assorted hardware strewn around the room. "We need another transphasic generator."

What they needed was the original generator back at N-Tek, but it was still shattered and off- limits. A second portable one was cool, too. "A backup?"

"Yup. At this rate, and considering that I have to fabricate a lot of the parts on my own, I should be finished... before the sun dies."

"What's that - five billion years?" At Berto's nod, he snorted. "So about when the media decides we're not interesting."

Berto made a general noise of assent.

"I am getting so sick of this. Not just because of Laura." He was over that, mostly. It'd been a long time in coming, which helped. "This is not how I want to get famous."

Berto stopped what he was doing and straightened, no longer just talking. Now he was making a point. "You haven't been keeping an eye on the media coverage. I have. And Kat's right. They talk about you the same way they always did, but they're treating her like an object. One of the entertainment shows went around asking famous people what they thought of her, and you know what? The biggest question was where else she was pierced."

Josh frowned in vague puzzlement. It was a stupid debate. He'd known the answer to that two days after the sports version of Team Steel began. "Just her ears. Anywhere else is too hard to keep clean and could get torn out in a fight."

"See, you and I know that, but it doesn't matter to them. They just want to hear themselves talk." Berto paused. "Anyway. Ignoring all that - Kat's a seriously private person. This is probably her worst nightmare."

"She didn't seem all that upset when the sports coverage started."

"But that's about what she can do, not her personally."

"Huh." Josh thought about that for a minute. "You'd make a good shrink, bro, you know that?"

Berto adjusted his glasses with no small amount of satisfaction. "A team manager wears many hats."

Josh smirked at that, then sobered. "Only problem is, it's not going to go away anytime soon."

"Actually..." Berto let the word hang until he'd gotten Josh's attention. "I called a press conference today and told everyone the truth: that it was a misunderstanding, it got blown out of proportion, and the kiss was a joke. A bad joke, but a joke. And that they all needed to shut up and go home."

Josh immediately looked through the blinds. Sure enough, the cameras and their holders were all gone - although there was a nondescript black car parked across the street that looked like it probably had some observers inside. Couldn't get rid of everyone, he guessed. "You did that? Even after what my dad said?"

"You and Kat are my best friends," Berto said, dead serious, and then grinned. "That's one of my hats. But no - I talked to Jefferson, and he agreed that it was getting out of hand."

Pondering the miraculous existence of a world where he wasn't the constant focus of invasive media gossip, Josh missed what Berto was saying. "Huh?"

"Kat wanted to talk to you. I think she went outside."

"Uh-oh," Josh said, because there weren't a lot of happy topics to talk about. "Mood check?"

Berto returned to work. "She knows about the conference, so she's okay. No sign of fangs or claws."

Josh stood for a moment, thinking - dinner now or later? - and then went looking for Kat.

He found her standing on the sorry excuse for a porch behind the house, leaning against one of the rough wood columns that supported the roof. "What's up?"

"Oh, not much," she said, not bothering to look at him. "Watching the sunset, taking in the air, wondering if there's any paparazzi with telephoto lenses hiding in the trees..."

He did a quick scan and came up with nothing. "None in my range."

"Good." She turned around, still leaning on the column, and crossed her arms over her chest. "You know, I hate myself for this, but aren't you starting to wonder?"

"Wonder... what?" He took up a spot across from her, back against the adobe exterior wall of the house. It was still warm from the heat of the day.

She nodded over her shoulder at the world in general. "All those people think we're dating. They're looking at old film and saying, 'See, they've been together for a long time, look how they act around each other.' Why?"

He scuffed at the porch with one shoe. "Aside from the fact that you kissed me in public? Because they're morons with nothing better to do than invent fairy-tale romances."

"But everyone is saying it. Even your dad was looking at us funny the other day."

"Yeah, he was," he admitted, and kicked the porch some more. "So what? They're right? We're soulmates and don't know it? No one's that stupid."

"True. And if you were my soulmate, I'd make like Faust." But it was said with a grin.

He feigned a chest wound. "Ouch. I think I'm bleeding."

"Life's hard," she said, then, teasing fading, looked down at her feet for a second. "So we're back to normal?"

"As normal as things get around here," he said. Which wasn't very, but the status quo would be welcomed after all of this mess.

There was a heartbeat of silence, and then the devil's glint appeared in her eyes again, and she said, "Good, 'cause you're a lousy kisser."

He straightened, instantly offended. "What? I am not."

She shook her head in exaggerated woe. "It's all about technique. And you don't have any."

"That is such-" he started, then cut himself off and started over. "Look, you caught me off-guard." She made a highly skeptical noise, and that was about all he could stand, so he said, "I can prove it."

One of her eyebrows hiked up. "Then let's see it."

He blinked. "What, right now?"

She took a few steps closer, loose and ready to move, as if she'd asked him to spar instead of kiss her. "Not enough time to prepare?"

He glared at her, but he'd backed himself into a corner, and they both knew it. There were only two ways out, and only one of those would allow him to keep any kind of bragging rights. It crossed his mind that this was veering uncomfortably close to what they'd spent the last few days denying outright, but he pushed that aside. "Are you asking for yourself?"

"Nice recovery. So come on," she said, prodding his collarbone. "Put up or shut up."

"Fine." And he kissed her. A good, hard, open-mouthed kiss, the kind he used to give Laura when they were still together, except Laura had never pulled back with an exclamation of disdain.

"No, no, no," Kat said, repositioning the both of them. "No technique at all. Or maybe I should say, too much technique. You're overthinking. Just close your eyes and feel it."

He gave her a long-suffering look laced with scorn. "What is this - expert advice?"

"I'm a tough, independent chick, remember, and yes it is. All of the poor, foolish girls you date in the future will thank me. Try again."

"Jeez, yes ma'am."

The second attempt went much better, if "much better" was taken to mean that no one pulled away for quite a long while and in fact moved even closer, and that there was some significant tangling of body parts.

If there had been any paparazzi skulking around, they would have gotten enough photos to keep the story in the tabloids for months longer than it was already destined to be. As it was, the only witnesses were a few seagulls, and they were, frankly, more interested in fighting over abandoned hamburger wrappers on the beach.

Once again, Kat broke away first. There was a long, silent moment when neither of them said anything - just stared.

Then she sighed and said, "Well, I tried. You're just bad at it." She gave his shoulder a decidedly platonic pat and added, "Sorry," as she walked past him.

With some difficulty, Josh found his voice and said, "Wait, uh, can't you - you know - tutor me?"

She snorted and shook her head. "It's my night to make dinner. Get your vote in now - leftover pizza or leftover Thai?"

"No, seriously, Kat," he started again, but she waved him off and kept going. He hesitated for a moment, and then, turning his back on the sunset, the seagulls, and the fact that he was about to make a liar out of himself, he followed her inside. "Kat -?"

END