I haven't forgotten you, I've just gotten sidetracked by other projects. And that little college thing. Sorry.
*Karasuma*Firestorm*

R for language.

Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

It was late. God only knew how late. Bethany was so exhausted, she wasn't totally sure why she'd woken up.

She squinted into the darkness, and saw Holden. She was in his bed. They'd spent hours sitting up and talking about anything and everything. The only thing 'unusual' about the situation was the setting; but although they were in his bed, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Just the best conversation of Bethany's whole life, before falling asleep on top of the sheets.

Bethany wasn't sure what to make of the whole situation. She liked Holden. She liked him a hell of a lot, and last night only put so many notches in the proverbial belt.

But she was afraid of where this would go. She had a kid, for Christ's sake. That wasn't something you could easily forget.

Was she even considering a relationship with Holden? She would have liked to. God, yes. He was incredibly sweet, intelligent, talented, had a past that he'd learned from, and a future full of possibilities. Oh, and he was cute.

What could he ever see in her, she wondered. She was in her early thirties, a single mom with a bastard (well, technically, Alanis was) child and an ex-husband she hadn't spoken to in God knows how long and yet still resented. She had a useless degree and worked a dead-end job as an abortion clinic counselor. She hadn't had sex in, well, *years*. She was friends with stoners and baby-killing coworkers. She had a crappy small apartment. In her estimate, the only thing she had going for her was a hell of a lot of faith, and that turned most guys *off*. So what in the name of all that was holy did Holden see in her to be so wonderful to her as he was being? It didn't make any damned sense.

She heard the sound of the front door creeping open, and went out to investigate. Peering over the banister, assessing before acting, she was relieved to see it was only Rufus coming in. She made her way down the stairs and greeted him with a smile. "You're coming in late."

"Go figure. They won't rent hotel rooms to dead men."

"Hotel room?"

"I didn't want to be kept awake all night by you and Holden making *sounds*, if you catch my drift." Rufus shook his head. "The dead need sleep, too."

"That's what cemeteries are for," Bethany responded dryly. "'Sounds?'"

"Yeah, sounds." Rufus twisted his easily-molded face into an expression of rapture (it was particularly ridiculous, Bethany noted, thinking of the Metatron), brought his voice up an octave, and squeaked out, "Oh, Holden! Oh, HOLDEN!"

Bethany was torn between indignation and amusement. "Stop," she said, trying not to giggle. "You're being loud, you'll wake him up."

"Did you?"

"Have sex with him? No."

"You don't seem too disappointed."

"We've only known each other so long. I don't want to do anything I might regret."

"A john only knows his prostitute for a few minutes before bedding her," Rufus argued with an annoyingly calm expression.

"Prostitute analogies," Bethany said with mild disgust. "Lovely. You want some breakfast?"

"Is it that time already?" Rufus said, peering at one of the large windows. "Damn."

"You must have had quite the party," Bethany remarked, leading the way into the kitchen and rummaging around for food substances. Holden's life as a bachelor didn't provide many rewards for houseguests. "Speaking of breaking fast--"

"Were we?"

"You were. So at the Last Supper, how come they all sat on one side of the table?"

"Beats the hell outta me. It just goes to show. I get up to take a piss, and they paint one of the most famous paintings in the world while I'm trying to find a suitable bush to squat by." Rufus gave a labored sigh. "Being black sucks sometimes."

"I wouldn't know." At last, Bethany found some cereal (Cap'n Crunch, but she'd survive) and some milk. Holden's shopping expeditions were few and far between, and minimal to say the least, but to his credit, the milk was fresh and the cereal wasn't stale. She got out three bowls. It was starting to get light outside, and she figured Holden would be down soon.

"So if you didn't 'bone it', as our little stoner friend would so eloquently put it, what did you spend the entire night doing? Because that was some kiss you two were engaged in when I saw you."

"You *saw* that?"

Rufus nodded.

"Fuck."

"What? It's about time you got laid, Bethany Sloane."

"You're telling me."

"Ah, you're thinking about it."

"I am not."

Rufus fixed her with a look. "Bethany, I know *everything* about you."

"Yeah, yeah. Can we change the subject?"

"Because I'm right?"

"Because you're annoying." She poured milk over his Cap'n Crunch, and in her haste ended up sluicing some moo juice on Rufus's --Holden's-- shirt. "Damn, girl!" He jumped up. "Now I've gotta go change, and my cereal's gonna get soggy."

"I feel your pain," Bethany retorted, and watched the apostle storm off with a smirk playing at her face. She turned to replace the milk, and was half-immersed in the refrigerator, searching for butter and jam for toast when she felt a hand, warm and strong, pressed against her waist.

She jumped, and came awfully close to bashing the fridge light. "Fuck!"

The hand was gone. "Sorry," Holden said sheepishly, helping Bethany remove herself from the refrigerator without further injury. "Maybe it's a bit early for that." Whether he meant early in the morning or early in their relationship, Bethany didn't know. Nor did she get a chance to find out, because Holden added, "You're making breakfast?"

"Yeah."

"Usually that's my role when I have nightly visitors." At those words, he winced, for reasons unknown, though it passed as quickly as it had come. Bethany had the suspicion it was subconscious, and decided not to press it.

"I'm not the right kind of visitor," she replied.

"Maybe soon you will be," he answered, both his tone of voice and the look he gave her laced with suggestion. She found herself blushing.

Rufus came back in, wearing a wifebeater that was clearly one of Holden's collection. It was a bit yellowed from aged sweat stains that only come out with the strongest of bleaches, and was several sizes big for Rufus, considering the noticeable difference in build between the two men. "I'm starved. Let's eat." The lone chair squeaked aggravatingly as he dragged it across the floor, and he plopped himself in it with a satisfactory sigh.

Bethany and Holden exchanged a look. "The living room it is," Holden said, grabbing his cereal bowl, and the mismatched are-we-or-aren't-we couple made their way into the living room, careful not to spill any cereal.