He swallowed walking out of the room to see Gatsby staring out the window toward the morning sunrise. His hair was gold, yes, but seemed to take the sun's rays to make it look like it glowed even when it was a bit messy. The shorter had to try very hard to forget that it was his fingers that had caused it to be so disheveled. Nick walked toward him, he'd taken more than just a few minutes to get the courage to walk out of the bedroom and confront him about last night. Homosexuality wasn't a bad thing- he was sure that the conservatives would argue with him but their time was gone and hopefully not soon to return again- and it wasn't as if Gatsby wasn't attractive. It was the matter that over the last few months- nearly a whole year now- Gatsby had been his friend. Only friend, in fact, and that made this complicated. Nick swallowed before clearing his throat. Gatsby turned; an eyebrow raised and opened his mouth. He seemed to falter, his own eyes glancing at Nick's lips. Nick shifted a bit awkwardly underneath his gaze and sighed, "Last night…" He started at the same time Gatsby did and they sighed together before nearly glaring. It was like each other were trying to make this difficult and neither knew what to say. Gatsby finally spoke, "I… had no intention… of having what happened happen."

Nick stiffened a bit, "And you think I did?" The taller of the two shook his head, "No, of course not. We've been… rather heterosexual up until this point and I believe that… we should keep things the same." There was silence in between and Gatsby lamented, "Not that… it wasn't…" Nick nodded, "Completely not, I found it the same." He shrugged and Gatsby looked a bit shocked, "Did you?" Nick shrugged again, "Of course. Not like it was the first time." Gatsby looked confused before just nodding and deciding he wouldn't ask what he meant. Assuming that he meant the drinking, clearly they were on two different topics without Nick's knowledge. "Erm… coffee?" Nick nodded, "Please." And they quickly went their separate ways.

The younger kept to his typing, finding it suddenly very tedious and let out a long moaning sound with his throat after five hours of silence. Gatsby looked up from the book he was reading, the look of confusion still there completely. "Something the matter?" Nick sighed, taking the paper from the type writer and balling it up. "This isn't for me. Clearly I lack something in the creativity center of my brain to do this without be angry at the world or becoming a drunk." Gatsby shifted a bit before shrugging, "We could always get you drunk again." Nick scoffed at him, "Now doesn't that sound pleasant. And I assume we'd be back on the couch again? Or the bedroom? God only knows what fools we'd make of ourselves this time." Immediately after he said it, he winced, "I didn't mean that."

There was a sound of movement and he turned to look at Gatsby, who seemed to avoid looking at him at all while putting the book back on the shelf. "I knew what you meant." Nick opened his mouth and shut it, "It doesn't matter, Nick." Gatsby shrugged, "I enjoyed it. All of it. If you have a problem with that, then… we won't talk about it. Which we agreed upon, so I'll say nothing more." He stayed silent as he watched the man move across the room to pour himself another cup of coffee, drink a bit of it, before pouring it out and going to claim his coat from the rack. "Where are you going?" Nick finally asked and Gatsby paused only a moment, "Out. I'll see you later." Before shutting the door behind him with a snap.

A sudden anger took hold of Nick and he marched after Gatsby. Opening the door and walking out into the hallway. "And if I enjoyed it too- which I'm not saying I did by any means- what would you do? Would we decide to end up doing something together while you haven't gotten over her and I have my own problems? How do you think it would end? Just like before where you thought you could-." Gatsby rounded on him, cutting off his advance completely. "I would make it work. It's not all black and white like you think it is. You don't have to love just one person at one time!"

Nick was silent, looking up at him with a nearly dumbstruck look. What was he saying? That he... He stared up into his blue eyes before Gatsby turned away and marched back down the hallway. For what seemed like an hour to him, was only maybe five minutes, before he too turned and went back into the apartment. His feet were lead as he moved to the couch covering his face in his hands. "You can love more than just one person at one time…"

"Daisy!" Tom called from their bedroom and the young blonde looked up from where she was laying on the couch. Her eyes were tired, little Pammy had had nightmares throughout the night of a bear roaring in the living room. "Daisy!" He called again and she answered tiredly, "Yes, dearest one?" Tom came in, seeing her strewn and leaned to kiss her, "Have you seen my bow tie? The red one with the black dots?" She pointed to their bedroom. "Top drawer, underneath the white shirts." Daisy breathed and laid back down for him to look over her, "You're tired." She nodded yawning behind her hand. "Our angel had a tough night sleeping." Tom captured her chin with his fingers. "Stay here tonight then, don't bother with the party and relax. Have a bath or whatever you ladies to do to rest."

Daisy leaned up to kiss him, "Thank you… Enjoy the party." He promised he would, picking up his jacket and retreating to the bedroom before leaving out. She waited almost ten whole minutes before running to the phone and dialing. A few nights before Tom had drunkenly told her that he'd killed him already. And things would be fine again. Even if he hadn't named Gatsby, the worry in her heart made her nearly mad- but she had to wait. If he knew about the phone call… She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts of what Tom might do. She dialed slowly, begging to God above that he had just been saying things. That… That she wasn't married to some murderer. Everyone knew they were on vacation and where Tom was going for work- that his family had gone with him. She listened to the phone ring before the line went straight to an operator. The lady claimed that the number was no longer in service and she dropped the phone completely. Tears came to her eyes and she panicked, trying Nick's number only to receive the same thing and then Jordan's. It took a while before she found the right hotel. "Darling, you sound upset, what on Earth happened?" Daisy composed herself, temporarily. "Where's Gatsby and Nick? You remember my cousin?" Jordan scoffed, "All I can tell you is that one day I had a boyfriend, the next I was out of the loop and there was a dead man on the lawn- nearly two from what I hear- Daisy? –Daisy?" She hung up after hearing there was a dead man on the lawn. Daisy crumbled to the ground and she gave a wail that made the nanny and Pammy run in from her bedroom. The elder lady shooed the daughter into the room before coming to Daisy's side. "Mrs. Buchannan? Oh dear, Mrs. Daisy what happened?" She cried hard enough to make angel pause for concern and she gave a scream, "Jay Gatsby's dead! My love is dead!"

Tom looked over the glass of vodka at the man who sat across from him. He hadn't approved the sudden intrusion nor the ladies who immediately fled from his arms- though he doubted he could refuse the man a seat. Meyer Wolfsheim, the criminal from what Tom's circles gossiped about, "I've heard a funny rumor, Mr. Buchannan." Tom watched him warily, knowing if the man knew his name than this certainly wasn't a polite chat about the weather, "Interesting, I didn't know people started rumors about me." Meyer smiled, "Well, some people do like to talk a lot. Ever heard a man named George Wilson?" The man shifted, eying the teeth on the end of Meyer's gray suit that took their place instead of buttons and swallowed, "Might have." The criminal huffed a laugh, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna stick ya for the murder or nothing. But I have to say that an associate of mine wants to find his wife's killer. And she believes it to be your wife, Daisy. See, I help her do certain things for me- my associate. If she finds the killer- not saying it's your wife or nothing- but if she finds the killer I plan to get a large sum of money in return from my associate for helping her out. If I don't fund her now, she won't find her… or him." He smiled with yellowish teeth.

"George Wilson owed you money?" Tom muttered looking around them before shifting, "How much money?" Meyer made a face, "That's my business, but I can tell ya it's no small fortune. And well… if I got my money back… I wouldn't have to fund this gal searching for Myrtle Wilson's killer. Catch the drift I'm giving you?" Tom stirred the drink a little in his hand, staring at it. He knew exactly what he was hinting at and shifted, "Say if… someone paid Wilson's bill… Would you be willing to repay a favor?" Tom asked him softly and Meyer shrugged, "Depends on the favor." Tom leaned in, "If I pay you what Wilson owed, plus interest… Will you find the real Gatsby and kill him. I knew he didn't die. That bastard 'friend' of mine, Nick Carraway saved him- and kept you from getting your money. If I pay you that… Will you kill those two both- make it look like an accident or something- with no loose ends? I don't want this to bite me in the ass later, understand?" Meyer smiled at him, "I'm sure something can be arranged, Mr. Buchannan."

Hi everyone,
After a long spell of absence I am picking up the story once more. I should be updating soon, just give me time. Thank you for all the very sweet reviews and messages. They really do help me keep updating things and writing.

Much love,
Cass