Their route was fairly direct, the bus making only a handful of stops before they were at their own. Preston stood up, giving Antoine a tap in case his friend had fallen asleep. Antoine opened his soft eyes, and regarded Preston with a look that seemed to peer into his soul. Antoine could do that sometimes, Preston thought as they climbed down the steps. He had a way of looking into people, not just at them. Antoine could read people. He had a knack for it.

The two men made their way through the wet darkness down Antoine's street. Antoine's house, their house, backed up to a preserve. Though they had neighbors on their side, the back yard met with nothing but pine barrens. Their yard was framed by a decently high hedge, giving them a sense of privacy. Antoine's house was easy to identify in the dark: it was the one with the least number of lights on.

The rain was rolling down Preston's neck, in spite of his collar and scarf. He shivered, and was more than grateful when they finally stood under the front porch. Antoine fussed with his keys for a moment before finally grabbing the right one, and letting them in.

Preston shivered as he hung his coat in the closet by the door.

"I'm getting tired of public transportation," he remarked wearily.

Antoine cocked his head as he tossed his coat over the back of a chair. "So start taking Bessie."

Preston made a face. "I'm thinking I need to bite the bullet and get my own car." He grabbed Antoine's coat off the chair. "Would it kill you to use the closet for once?"

Antoine shrugged. "It might."

"It won't."

"Okay."

Preston left his shoes by the door to dry, and walked down the hall to his bedroom. "I've been thinking," he called out to Antoine as he changed. In the recent weeks, Preston had become less shy about leaving the door open. He knew Antoine would respect his privacy.

"What about?" asked Antoine as he changed in the master bedroom.

"Several things," replied Preston as he slipped into his pair of navy sweat pants, and a matching navy sweatshirt. He joined Antoine in the living room and sat down in his favorite recliner.

Antoine appeared, wearing a grey v-neck tee-shirt, and a pair of plaid pajama pants. He flopped down on the couch. He must've noticed Preston's eyes on him. He glanced over, looking mildly self-conscious. Unusual for Antoine. "What?" he asked, perplexed.

Preston drew his feet up, and curled his legs under himself. "I'm surprised you're not wearing one of your button-down shirts tonight."

Antoine looked his grey shirt thoughtfully. "Eh," he replied with a shrug. "Whatever." He kicked his feet onto the ottoman and faced Preston. "So, what's on your mind, Prep?"

Preston settled deeper into the chair. "Well, three things really. One: I am going to buy a car. I'm tired of walking to the bus stop every day. Two: I officially have a personal assistant now. And three: Rhonda hates me."

"I don't think Rowdy hates you," Antoine began thoughtfully. "She's not that bad…"

"Let me tell you about my day with her," replied Preston emphatically. He leaned back in his chair and described everything from his encounter with Rhonda earlier that day. He told Antoine how she'd been watching him on the monitors, and played back the recorded footage of him and Antoine. Preston found, once he started talking about this matter, he couldn't seem to stop. Soon everything was flowing out: Rhonda choosing his personal assistant for him, Rhonda threatening him about fraternization… the more he talked, the faster he spoke. It was like an avalanche. Preston couldn't have stopped his words if he wanted to.

Antoine sat, face stoic as he listened intently.

Finally, Preston paused, taking a deep breath. "She can't do that, can she?"

Antoine stood up, his expression stormy. "She can, but she has no right to," he rumbled, slapping his hands on his thighs.

Preston leaned back in his chair. Antoine might occasionally get annoyed, but this was the first time he'd ever seen Antoine look downright mad. Antoine paced the length and breadth of their living room, keeping his weight lightly on the balls of his bare feet. He swung his arms and clapped his hands together as he moved. His whole body moved with the easy grace of a wild animal. He paused in front of Preston, rubbing his hands together and swaying like a cobra. "I…" he started. "She'd better…" He turned suddenly, putting his back to Preston and digging his hands into his thick blue hair. He made a growling sound then whirled back, fingers still knotted into his mane. "I'm speechless, Preston. I literally don't even know what to say."

Antoine paused for a moment, then bolted into his room.

Preston heard the familiar sound of Antoine pawing through his files: the drawers rolling in and out, papers being tossed in piles. Moments later, Antoine emerged, a copy of the nuclear plant's employee manual in his hand. "Lemme see what she's talking about." He dropped onto the couch and began leafing through the pages. "This means what? You're not supposed to hang out with anyone who isn't management?"

Antoine found the page and slowly read it.

Preston couldn't help but notice how Antoine moved his lips when he read. It seemed he was always noticing little details like that about his housemate. Preston dropped his chin in his hand, and watched Antoine read.

"You know what she's trying to do, don't you?" Antoine finally asked, looking up.

"Make my life a living hell?" Preston replied dryly.

Antoine tossed the manual on the far side of the couch. He gave Preston an incredulous look. "No. Not at all! You honestly don't see it, do you."

"See what?"

Antoine ran a hand through his hair. "Really? This is classic psych warfare. She's trying to isolate you from your friends, your support group. She's trying to break you, Preston."

Preston hunched his back and tucked his hands into his sleeves. "Thanks, Antoine. That makes me feel so much better." His tone came out more bitter than he'd intended, and Antoine glared at him. Preston found himself wishing he hadn't been so sarcastic. Antoine's reproachful look was far worse than anything he'd received from Rhonda. He held out his hands. "Antoine, I'm sorry. It's just, how do you know that's what she's trying to do?"

"Easy," Antoine scoffed. "You think this is the first time I've seen someone pull this stunt? I've been around. She's going to try and nail you for hanging out with me at work. I kinda suspected someone might. Why do you think I sent myself to Infrastructure? You think I'm going to have you hauled up because you're caught spending too much time with me?" Antoine snorted. "Aww, hell no, Preppy! You're my best friend. I'm gonna try and protect you from things you don't even see coming."

Antoine paused, and glanced at the manual. "I didn't see this coming though. I mean, I didn't think she'd be the one to step it to this level so quickly." He drummed his bare feet on the floor.

Preston took a deep breath, held it for a minute, then exhaled slowly. "What do you think I should do?" he finally asked.

Antoine scowled. "Well, who do you hang out with?"

Preston hung his head. "I don't."

"Preppy," Antoine cooed gently. "Come on, stay with me. Who is your little social group around the plant? I mean, remember when we all used to go to The Lucky Lady after work?" Antoine pointed out.

Preston managed a weak smile. It had been months since he'd felt the ambition to hang out with the small group he once knew. Every day seemed long, he felt so tired. Still, there was a fondness to the memories. "Well, there was you (of course), Gary, Sharon, Ruby from accounting…"

Antoine smiled. "Yep. And technically, two out of the three you listed are management. I mean, not executive management, but Sharon's a division manager. So is Gary. He's chief of engineering. They're leads." Antoine pointed to the manual. "Technically, there is no division between management tiers in this thing. At least none that I saw. You see anything different?"

Preston reached out a hand. "May I?" He flinched as Antoine tossed the manual over. It landed in his lap. "You could've passed it," Preston admitted.

Antoine blushed slightly. "Sorry."

Preston ignored him and flipped the section on employee conduct. Though an earlier version than the one Rhonda had given him that morning, the contents were exactly the same. He felt a glimmer of hope. "It's not so bad," he muttered.

Antoine tilted his head. "No, it's still bad Preppy. It's just not hopeless." Antoine made a grabbing motion, and Preston handed the manual back. "You can beat Rowdy. Don't try to go tete-a-tete with her though. Gotta be smart about this." Antoine tapped his head. "Beat her at her own game, you know?"

Preston's feet were falling asleep. He shifted positions, then retucked his legs. "How," he finally asked.

Antoine shrugged. "Hire the best damned avocados in New York."

Preston shook his head. "What?"

"Never mind. Netflix reference. But you're smart. You'll think of something. So, let's move on to two. Tell me about this personal assistant."

Preston leaned back and began. "Her name's Rigel-"

"-For real? That's awesome!"

Preston ignored Antoine's interruption and continued. He told Antoine as much as he knew about his new assistant from their little interview. He also included a few details from her personal file that he'd pulled from Human Resources. "I was a bit surprised in Rhonda's choice, but she seems like a good kid. She reminds me of myself a little," Preston admitted with a shrug.

Antoine held up a hand. "Whoa, wait a minute there. Repeat that."

"She reminds me of myself?" Preston asked.

The withering look Antoine gave him in response made him blanche.

"What?" Preston asked, holding up his palms. "What did I say?"

Antoine gave him a shifty look. "That part where you said Rhonda chose her." Antoine ran a hand over his face and beard. "Gods, Preston. What am I going to do with you?"

A thousand ideas ran through Preston's head. Some of them were better than others. One in particular stood out. Preston quickly dismissed that thought from his mind. Antoine would never go for that. Love me. Meet my parents. Be with me. Preston mentally pinched himself. How could he even be thinking about things like that right now? He took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. He cursed himself inwardly.

"Rigel's not a spy," he muttered. He hoped his tone sounded persuasive enough to convince Antoine and himself both. It did not. His words sounded flat, even to his own ears.

Antoine folded his arms across his chest and sulked. "I take back what I said. Her name's not awesome."

"Let it go, Antoine," Preston pleaded. "She might not even have anything to do with Rhonda. You can't go making assumptions like that." He looked up, not bothering to put on his glasses. "Isn't that what you'd tell me, if our situations were reversed: 'give her the benefit of the doubt.'"

Preston's blue-haired housemate continued to pout. He looked away and stared down the hall.

"Antoine…" Preston coaxed.

Antoine muttered something under his breath, but refused to meet Preston's eyes.

"What was that?" Preston knew he was needling Antoine a bit. He didn't care. Preston didn't feel like skirting the issue tonight.

"I said 'yeah, that is what I'd say.' There. You happy?"

"Actually, yes."

Antoine grunted and rolled his eyes.

Preston leaned forward and put his glasses on. The world came into focus once again. "I'm going to go heat up some soup. Do you want anything?"

Antoine raised his head.

Food. Preston knew Antoine's rare moments of agitation could always be soothed with a good meal. "Probably tomato," Preston replied. "And maybe a grilled cheese sandwich or two." Preston smiled. "Do you want one?"

Antoine nodded eagerly. "With bacon? And basil too?"

Preston patted Antoine's shoulder as he walked by. "I suppose for you, we can do that."

The expression on Antoine's face was one of utter adoration. "You know the way to my heart, Preppy," he remarked from the living room. Preston didn't turn around, lest his own expression betray him.

You know the way to mine too, Antoine, he thought silently as he set a skillet on the stove top. Preston afforded himself a private moment. This was not what he'd pictured when he used to envision his future. He'd always figured he'd be some high-profile executive ruling over a company with a gilded fist: the epitome of class and style. And power. He'd have a huge house, a fancy car, and a significant other who fit solidly into the "trophy" category.

Some of that had come true, he reasoned; but not like he planned. He was a largely invisible CEO worrying over every little detail. He lived in a simple ranch-style house with a hipster pilot. He didn't even have a car. And the closest thing he had to any "trophy" relationship was whatever he had with Antoine. Preston wasn't even sure what to call it. Friendship, he supposed. Intimate, domestic, wonderful in its own odd way.

Antoine roundly described himself as Preston's "hetero-lifemate."

Preston wasn't even sure what that meant.

He flipped the bread, and added a tiny bit of olive oil to the pan.

What did he have with Antoine anyhow? Preston never really thought about it much, but sometimes he wondered. If they continued along this avenue, sooner or later the question would come up. Maybe not among his friends, not that Preston had many to chat with anyhow, but eventually he'd have to speak with his parents again. It was inevitable that Antoine would be part of the conversation. Preston added cheese to the bread, and stirred the soup. Maybe it would be best, he reasoned, that he just bring Antoine along next time he and his parents made plans to cross paths... Assuming no one cancelled. That way, he could just get everything done, get it out into the open. Whether they erroneously decided he and Antoine were boyfriends, or whether they went into complete denial mode, at least it would be over quickly.

The topic of "gay" had never come up in his family. You're a late bloomer, his parents would say when young Preston failed to show interest in puppy love dating and girls. Don't worry about it. Preston hadn't bothered to tell them he didn't think it was a 'late bloomer' thing. The word "gay" was never mentioned, even in political discussions. Nor were any derogatory slurs for that matter. It was if the entire concept of anything other than "straight" didn't exist in his parents' eyes. You were straight, or you weren't discussed.

It was that simple.

Probably denial, Preston concluded, setting the sandwiches on their plates. Considering what some kids went through with their parents, denial probably wasn't so bad. Preston balanced the soup bowls and sandwich plates on a tray, and carried them out to the living room. He carefully set everything on Antoine's footstool, and sat down on the couch.

Drinks. He'd forgotten to ask if Antoine wanted a drink. He wasn't thirsty at the moment. He'd ask in a bit. There was a bigger question on his mind.

"Antoine," he began carefully. "How would you feel about meeting my parents?"

Antoine froze in mid-bite. He peered at Preston nervously over his sandwich, eyes wide, whites showing. "Mrgh frents?" he asked, mouth full.

Preston didn't need to ask for a translation. He nodded.

Antoine swallowed mightily and licked his lips. "Jeeze, I dunno. Okay, I guess." He shrugged nervously. "Bigger question is: how would they feel about meeting me, you know?"

Preston made a who knows? gesture.

"Why, are you… are we… going to see them or something?"

Preston shook his head. He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. "No. No. It's just something that I wonder about sometimes. If you're my hetero-lifemate and all, sooner or later, it will come up."

Antoine dipped his sandwich in his soup. "Yeah. Parents. I dunno." Antoine paused, and gave a wry smirk. "Is this payback for stressing you out about your assistant?"

Preston couldn't help but laugh. "No, no! Nothing like that. I was just wondering because, well, you're here, I'm here; neither of us is going anywhere, right?" Preston's eyes met Antoine's and he blushed furiously. Quickly, Preston looked away. "Sooner or later, it'll come up." Preston gently rested a hand on Antoine's leg. "I'm glad to have you as my friend. I guess proud might be a better word. I'd rather people know about you than not, if it ever came up. I consider us an 'us.' And I'm okay with that." Preston struggled with his words. This wasn't a topic he found easy to bring up; nor was it any easier to continue once he'd started.

Antoine regarded Preston's hand like he'd never seen it before. "Fair enough," he announced decisively. "So I'm yours, and your mine? Yeah. I'm okay with that too." Antoine smirked. "Even if this is some hella deep fraternization we got going on right now."

Preston laughed, and felt some of the day's stress slowly slide away. Maybe not all of it, but enough. He patted Antoine's thigh, then withdrew his hand. "Well then, if we're an 'us,' then I think it behooves me to mention I'm going to buy a new car."

"I was going to ask about that. You mentioned it earlier. So we're getting a new car, eh? Antoine grinned. "Land Rover?"

"No, a sedan. Cadillac," Preston held up a hand. "But regardless, let's be clear. It's my car. You already have a car."

"But I can still drive yours, right?"

Preston winked. "Maybe if you're good."

Antoine batted his eyes innocently. "Oh Preppy, I'm always good. And when I'm bad, I'm even better." He made a kissing motion and curled his body in a mock-flirtatious way.

Preston stood up, grabbing the tray with their empty dishes. "I know you're teasing, so I'll let that one go. But you'd better watch yourself, Antoine. I've got my eyes on you." Preston pointed to his eyes with his index and middle fingers, then back to Antoine.

Antoine kicked his feet up onto the ottoman and reached for the remote. "I wouldn't want 'em anywhere else, Prep." He sighed contentedly. "You just keep watching me, and I'll look out for you, and this'll all be fine. You'll see."

Preston put the dishes to wash, and returned to Antoine. He sat down on the couch, and leaned against Antoine's soft flank. "Just keep telling me that," Preston murmured, a note of seriousness creeping into his voice. He thought of his conversation with Smithers, the cooling rods, the finite amount of time he had to make a decision. He closed his eyes, and tried not to think of the past. "If I hear it enough, maybe I'll believe it."

Antoine threw his thick arm around Preston and pulled him close. "Don't worry, Prep. I'm here. Everything's going to be a-okay." He stroked Preston's hair with his free hand. "Don't you worry. I got this."