Yes, I know they're mad AGAIN. But, dammit, they just wouldn't play nice. I'm a sucker for a happy ending though . . . After this there's only two more chapters left :(

**

"Hello?"

"Aw, I was hoping Dana would answer."

"Shut up, Kevin."

"What's the matter?"

I sit back on the couch and the gigantic pillows try to swallow me again. I wonder how they got the couch through the door.

"Nothing."

"You're oh-so-believable."

I sigh, getting pissed, "Dana and I had a fight, okay?"

"About? Maybe I can offer some advice."

I'm quiet for a while, but this is Kevin. He'll see my point. He's a man- whore that sees the difference of a 'couple' and 'two people together'. Now that I told him how it was he'll get what I mean.

"She bought a couch."

"What was wrong with the old one?"

"It broke."

". . . and you'd rather sit on the floor?"

"No. She bought a COUCH. And it's OUR couch, it's like . . ."

"A relationship?"

". . . Yeah."

"Granted, I was with Beth eight months when she bought that toaster and freaked me out. Remember Beth?"

"Yes, I remember Beth, and you were an imbecile for freaking out, you were together eight months and it was a TOASTER," I reiterate.

"So we were a couple, and that was one of those things."

"*YES*," I growl out. He's getting to be incredibly annoying.

"I think you just answered your dilemma."

What? "What?"

"Harry, I saw you today, smiling. That I-just-got-some grin and I've known you five years, you've slept with a hell of a lot of women in that time. And bragged about a few too. You didn't brag about Dana. That's a landmark."

"No. You don't get it. It's too fast. And it's a couch!" Moron! Stick up for me!

"Let me ask you a question . . . After you had sex for the first time with Dana and you were there for a while, what did you do? Honestly."

"Went to the bathroom," I bitch.

"After that."

". . . I laid down next to her and . . ."

"Why didn't you leave?"

"I . . . I wanted to stay with her, next to her while she was sleeping . . ."

"Want to express more emotions, girlie-man?"

"Screw you, Kevin."

"See, the *correct* answer - the one you used a couple of times before - was 'It was my apartment, where was I supposed to go?' and not all the syrupy stuff."

"She's my roommate," I manage half-heartedly.

"And you would still have went out before she woke up, just so she got the message. It's not that hard to figure out - when it's someone else," he added.

"Shit."

"Them's is lovin' words," he coos. Asshole.

"Kevin?"

"Yeah?"

Click.

**

I stand outside of the door and look at it; I cock my hip out and put my hand on it, and then fix my best glower at the slab of wood. I'm standing here staring down a door with a death glare. Take that. Why? I don't know. I'm in love, in simplex terms it means I'm officially insane.

I sigh and relax when I realize my stupidity; with a shake of my head, I reach out haggardly and turn the knob, walking inside as I do. Harry's head rises and he looks up, standing when he sees me.

"Hey," he says softly.

THUNK.

I think my purse against the wall says everything. I go to the kitchen and look at the burned steak before going into the cabinet and pulling out a box of Frosted Flakes.

"Dana, I--"

GULOP. I drop the carton milk onto the stand as I get out a bowl and make my dinner.

"Can't you even talk to me?"

Silent treatment is the worst. I hate it. It's terrible. So I look at him and take a spoon, crunching into my food as I walk past. I glare at the couch and go into the bedroom shutting the door. He catches it with his hand, must not be the bad one.

I turn on the television and set the bowl down, kicking off my shoes to climb onto the bed. By the time I'm getting another spoonful, he's watching me.

"You're being ridiculous."

And you ripped my heart out. Asshole. Hence the very worst thing I can think of. I eat more cereal.

"Dana!"

"You know, now that we're roommates we should have some rules," I suddenly strike out. "Rule Number One: Don't bring anyone home to screw, you want to have sex do it at her place because I am declaring this apartment completely . . . sex . . . free." I say the words as slowly as I can drag them out. I'm not using sex as a weapon, I'm not 'cutting him off', I just refuse to have sex with someone who sees me as an easy alternative. I sure he's a little miffed about that.

"And you?" I knew he couldn't help but ask it, even if he's absolved to not argue with me. Yep, Harry would have to know.

"I'm going to be sex-free too." I'm not playing that game, he knows I care about him, and I know it now, right in my face, full color. I'm not going to go have sex with someone just to make him jealous.

"Dana." He sighs like he shouldn't have asked that. Hell, maybe it shows he cares. HA! "Listen to me."

"Rule Number Two: No sleeping in the same bed. You can have the couch because I'm not going NEAR it."

His hands are on his hips. He looks really good today, a pair cargo shorts, and a white tee shirt, simple and . . . not the insight I'm trying to apply to my anger. He's kind of smiling, he noticed me looking. Bastard. "Why can't I get the cushions?"

"Because of rule Number Three: No sleeping in the same room," I shrug, crossing my legs and taking another bite. He has this funny smile on his face, I might have seen it a few times, here and there, and this morning, but it didn't seem so funny then. It's not his sex-smile, that one is burned into my mind, all teasing and . . . I have to shift a little. Gotta remember Rule Number One. This smile is different though, kind of . . . soft. Which is odd in itself.

"Anymore rules?"

"I get the first shower. No more surprise shower vists either. Rules Four and Five."

"You're the one who broke Five."

I look at him and blink. "Sue me."

"Rule Six?"

I should make it 'no cooking for each other,' but I love that he does that and I'll take any small thing I get. Pathetic. Besides, I'm just learning so maybe I'll make something that makes him yark. Ha.

"I need to think about it."

"I need to know them if I'm going to break them."

I drop my spoon, the milk in the empty bowl splashing just a little as I scowl at him. "They are unbreakable."

And he just smiles. That one, that one smile that . . . Rule Six can be don't look at me like that, but . . . but he probably doesn't know it, and it probably doesn't even mean anything.

I really don't want to cry right now.

"Rule Six: We're just roommates," I say briskly as I put the bowl on the stand and take my hair down.

"Well, Roommate," Ouch -- even if he doesn't know that it hurts -- ouch. "You got a message."

Hospital? "Hospital?"

"No. Work. Someone named Casey called to tell you that you have work tomorrow, 'work rush'."

"Oh. Okay."

"I was going to tell them -"

I know what he's going to say, but I cut him off, my voice seems a little quieter to me. "I wanted to work. I called them, and I need the money."

He doesn't say anything. I know he doesn't like me working there but he's getting used to it, he's respecting my decision to do it. Figures, by the time *I'm* feeling unsettled about working there, he's fine with it . . . Partially, anyway.

Harry, eternally set in his ways is changing a little for me. Dammit. It makes me soften a little.

Bastard.

"How is your mother?"

Ow. Double up on the sore spot.

"I-I called the hospital. My mother's going to be out tomorrow," I say. Even if I'm angry I can't handle that by myself.

"That's great! Are you okay?" It's a stupid question, but just what I need at that moment. And that hurts the worst. I just nod and get up, hurrying to the bathroom and shutting it behind me before I cry. Not in front of him, not anymore.

**

I hear the shower running and I know she's crying, and I know she didn't take any clothes with her. I get up and drag the television into the living room. I can easily sit on the bed, waiting for her to come out, maybe in a towel, and point out that she's being silly about us . . . Us . . . but she doesn't need me to be an ass now.

Us.

I sat there for a couple of hours after Kevin called. And the son of a bitch was right. I thought back to all the women I've gone out with, or just had sex with, not as many as Kevin thinks, I'm sure, but . . . I never felt the way I feel with Dana. I don't mean the sex, well, just the sex. I mean that just being around her I'm happier that I am with anyone else. Even when it's shitty, and everything's up in the air, it's a hell of a lot better than many of the 'good' times I spent with others.

Stuff like that kind of sneaks up on you. It's not like you go along and know your having the best times you've ever experienced, it comes to you at once, and you know. Know that Kevin was right. Know that I'm in a 'couple' relationship . . . because I wanted it that way. Because I cleared that space in the closet, and I introduced her to my mother, and went with her to see hers, staying next to her as she filled out every damn form. I kept trying to assure her it was over with Lauren, I stopped seeing her as plain Dana and her name became this crazy word that meant all these amazing things about how wonderful something was. I admitted my whole relationship - yes, RELATIONSHIP - to Marilyn and, fuck, Lauren - I laid it right on the table to her. I couldn't even see it myself, and I laid it out for Lauren.

Dana and I are a couple. I just have to remind her of that since I screwed everything up. And . . . fuck. And feeling . . . I think I could be, maybe . . . fuck.

**

Hours have passed since I ran into the bathroom and Harry's been in the living room while I lay in the bedroom. Breathing in the scent of our - NO - his bed. I've gotten to be pretty pitiful.

Last night I was having the BEST orgasm I've ever had. This morning I had three. And after each one I was pretty spent, doing all that work myself, I have to do it over and over again and it's NEVER that satisfying. Harry gets me floored with one. Bastard. Now I'm aroused, my nipples uncomfortable against the matching blue tank top of the sleep set.

. . . Harry.

I want to moan it out, or cry it out, but I won't. Jerk. Rule Number One. And Six, we're just roommates. I get up, walking over to the doorway to lean against it and watch him watch TV on the poofy, green couch. He looks over and smiles, not the soft smile, but something like it, close to it.

"'Sopranos' are on." I look at the television and see Tony ordering some guy to kill another, with the aid of a lot of swearwords and a jabbing pointer finger. I look at him and start to walk forward but stall, looking at the couch. I shake my head instead and go back in the bedroom.

I read for a while until the words blur into lines and I rub my eyes, tossing the book aside. I shut the light off and toss the sheet over me as the fan whirls a lulling sound. The room has a glow of the television, the blue playing through the doorway and lighting up the room just a little until I hear Harry turn it off and come into the bedroom. My back to him I hear him undress, it's silent for just a second before the bed creaks as he leans across it.

"Dana?" he says to the dark room.

"Hmph?"

"Can I sleep next to you? I won't do anything."

I squeeze my eyes shut and stay perfectly still. He's waiting. "No, Harry."

He doesn't say anything but the bed squeaks as he gets up and he I don't hear him walking back to the couch.

"Can I sleep on the cushions?"

. . .

. . .

. . . I know the couch is comfy, I almost passed out in sheer pleasure with it.

"You'll be more comfortable on the couch."

"No. I won't."

Rule Number Two, no, Three . . .

"Sleep in here then."

When he tells me goodnight I don't respond, trying to will myself into unconsciousness instead.

**

I hear her trying to control her breathing, and I put my hands up. Fuck, maybe I'll cry. Fuck, I'm turning into some emasculated simpleton, but it hurts when she's upset. It hurt before, but now I know why. She's Dana.

The woman I'm in love with.

Fuck. I don't even mind it.

.