Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

Summary: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

Sitting down on the couch, Richie let out a low groan as he slipped out of his trench coat. Folding it lightly, he draped it over the back of the couch. Before lying back, he kicked out of his shoes. Sighing contentedly, Richie rolled to his side so he was facing the back of the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. He bent his legs slightly, finding Virgil's couch a bit too short to lay on fully outstretched.

Groaning again, Richie mumbled, "I am so tired," and his eyes fluttered shut. His breathing became shallow as he teetered on the edge of consciousness and blissful sleep, lulled by the gentle clicking of Virgil's shoes against the linoleum in the kitchen. He was vaguely aware when the melody ceased, but was too tired to investigate why; too preoccupied by his rushing thoughts that always seemed to pick up just when Richie wanted to fall asleep.

Just as he was about to groan in despair, Richie was cut off by the warmth of a thick blanket encompassing his body. Without opening his eyes, Richie turned to face the room. He exhaled and pulled the blanket closer, curling into himself.

"I'm tired," Richie mumbled again, vaguely aware he had, but also completely unsure why he was reiterating himself.

Virgil smiled warmly, his features overtaken by compassion, as he murmured, "I know," tenderly.

Slowly, Virgil removed Richie's glasses and set them on the coffee table after folding them. Getting on his knees, Virgil leaned in closer to Richie and began to gently run his fingers through soft, blond hair. As he hummed the song he sang the night before, Virgil gently glided the fingers of his free hand against one of his dreads, examining his hair, frowning as he noticed for the first time his black hair had become peppered with gray. Shutting his eyes, he let go of his hair, holding back a sigh so as to not cut off his humming.

After fifteen minutes, when Virgil was absolutely sure Richie was asleep, he pushed himself to his feet. Before heading back into the kitchen, Virgil slipped out of his shoes and left them by the couch, not wanting the clicking they made to wake Richie.

Back in the kitchen, Virgil began looking through his cabinets for the necessary supplies to begin preparing dinner. After ten minutes, he finally had everything together. Taking a step back, he took in everything sitting on the counter, making sure he had everything.

Mindlessly, he began putting together a marinade for the chicken. While he worked, his thoughts diverted to the man asleep on his couch. While the love he felt for Richie wasn't exactly unrequited, it wasn't necessarily being returned either. As a matter of fact, the last twenty-four had found Virgil obsessively preoccupied with the fact that he really wanted Richie to be his boyfriend. Virgil had poured everything he had into making sure Richie understood he loved him and could trust him, despite what he had done in the past. It was already beginning to wear him down.

Not that he would ever admit that to Richie; Virgil would do whatever was necessary to make it known he had changed. To make Richie aware Virgil was absolutely, undeniably, committed to him and whatever came of them. And he would do it with a smile because it was what Richie deserved. In many ways, it was like when he used to fight crime; he was unquestionably committed to bringing justice to whomever was terrorizing the streets of Dakota, and he would do it with a smile—and the occasional sarcastic quip—because it was what the residents of Dakota deserved from their resident hero, and it was the same mentality Richie deserved from him.

Sighing, Virgil moved toward the sink to wash his hands post handling chicken. As the hot water rushed over his hands, and he collected a quarter-sized amount of soap in his palm, Virgil's memory reeled over his teenage years. He smiled as he remembered the day Richie officially became Gear. That was unarguably the best day of his entire superhero career. Sure, he had made stupid comments about how he didn't need Gear, and how he had been solo long before Gear came around, but in all actuality, if he was being honest with himself, Static had needed Gear, and Virgil was always going to need Richie.

The days after first seeing Richie, Virgil had been absolutely miserable. He had said and done things he certainly regretted, but he had never been one for properly handling his emotions, which was partially the reason he had started smoking; it helped Virgil deal with what he couldn't on his own. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have told Richie he loved him that day, and perhaps avoided the heartache he felt between that day and Christmas Eve, but perhaps he needed to feel that heartache; needed to realize just how passionate his love was for Richie, because he certainly had come to terms with it before seeing Richie again just the previous night.

Sighing through his nose, Virgil grabbed saran wrap and covered the bowl of marinating chicken. He set a timer for an hour and a half and put the bowl in the refrigerator. Deciding to take a short break, Virgil tossed the towel he had strung through his belt onto the counter and headed out to the living room.

Sitting across from the couch, Virgil smiled as he watched Richie sleep. He hadn't noticed it last night, but seeing Richie sleep was just as adorable as ever, having been, apparently, eternally blessed with baby-like features.

Scratching his forehead, he turned his attention away from Richie and fished through his pocket for his cell phone. Sighing, he pressed the number three and hit send. The phone rang three and a half times before a female voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Sharon?" Virgil questioned, his tone hushed so as to not wake Richie.

"Hey, Virgil," Sharon replied, sounding rather thrilled to her from Virgil. "Merry Christmas," she said warmly.

"Merry Christmas," Virgil replied and shifted.

After a couple moments of silence, Virgil finally spoke again. "So, I was just calling because I wanted to say… um… I wanted to say…" Sighing exasperatedly, Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. It should not have been so hard to apologize. Clicking his tongue, Virgil finally said, "I wanted to say thank you… and, also, I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for, Virgil?" Sharon asked, her tone a mixture of flattered and confused. "And you already thanked me the other day," she reminded.

"I know," Virgil replied. "I just want to thank you again..." He paused, biting his upper lip. Sentimental really was an ability of which Virgil lacked.

Sharon laughed. "Virgil, you're my brother and I care about you." There was a brief pause before Sharon said, "Now, what are you sorry for?"

Virgil laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "Um… I'm sorry for… uh… burning a hole in your floor."

Sharon laughed again. "Don't worry about it, Virgil. I'm fairly certain, even without your powers, you would have still found a way to burn a hole in my floor. Angelica is just that infuriating." Sharon paused and then added: "Besides, we found a company that will replace our carpet for cheap, which is lucky for you, because Daddy wanted you to pay for it."

"Mm," Virgil murmured. "I believe pops would want me to do that," he said and laughed airily.

"Did Chelsea have a good Christmas?" Virgil asked, changing the subject.

"I think she did," Sharon said. "We got her a bunch of movies and clothes, mostly. It was the only thing she wanted this year." She paused briefly before asking, "What about Chloé?"

"I think I got her more presents than she knows what to do with," Virgil laughed. Clearing his throat, he switched the phone to his other hand and said, "And she loved having Richie here this morning, too. She adores him."

"Mm," Sharon murmured. She then laughed airily as she said, "I bet Chloé wasn't the only one." She paused and then asked, "How is Richie, anyway?"

"He's fine," Virgil replied and glanced up at Richie. His lips broke into a beam as he watched Richie drool lightly as he slept. Shaking his head slightly, he said, "He's asleep."

"He's still there?" Sharon spurted out in surprise.

"Um…" Virgil stuttered, scratching the back of his neck with his middle finger. "Well… he kind of never left…" He puffed his cheeks. Making a popping nose and letting out a breath, he added: "He's actually been here since last night."

"You two didn't—"

"No!" Virgil interrupted, quickly covering his mouth when Richie groaned and shifted. Relieved Richie didn't wake up; he lowered his tone as he said: "No… we didn't do that. He slept in my bed, but only because Chloé insisted Santa wouldn't come if Richie slept on the couch. And this morning he freaked out about it..."

Virgil went silent for a moment, biting his lower lip gently. Drawing in a deep breath, he let it out slowly as he said softly, almost not loud enough for Sharon to hear: "I kissed him."

"You kissed?" Sharon exclaimed. "Oh, my God, Virgil, that's adorable!" she cooed, and immediately Virgil regretted having told her. "Aw! How was it?"

Virgil groaned and covered his eyes with his free hand. Heat of embarrassment rose in his cheeks and it took him a minute to organize his thoughts. "It was…" Virgil sighed. "I don't know how to describe it…"

"Aw, Virgil," Sharon gushed. "Are you going to date him?" she asked, sounding similar to a high school girl gossiping with her friends, and it made Virgil feel uncomfortable. "I think you would be so much happier if you were with Richie."

Virgil sighed. Turning his head to the side, he lowered his voice and cupped a hand around his mouth, though he was unsure whom he was trying to keep from hearing him. "He says he wants to, but he's not ready because he doesn't fully trust me yet. I've been doing whatever I can to make him feel comfortable; to show him he can trust me, but I don't… I don't know what else to do…"

"Give him time," Sharon said gently. "He'll come around."

Virgil let out a sigh of relief. Not that Sharon was always a bitch, but Virgil had been almost certain Sharon was going to make jokes about him asking for romantic advice about men. Though, that fear was most likely due to not being comfortable being out to so many people so abruptly.

"Are you sure?" Virgil finally asked shakily.

Virgil could almost sense Sharon's smile radiating through the phone. The smile he would never admit reminded him of his mother. "I'm sure, Virgil," she assured. "Just keep doing what you're doing and he'll come around."

"He wants me to apologize to Angelica."

Intrigue filled Sharon's tone, and she was obviously trying to keep the venom at bay. If there was anyone that really hated Angelica, Virgil knew, it was Sharon. "Why?"

Virgil shrugged. "He says because I put her through a lot of crap."

Sharon was quiet for a minutes and all Virgil could hear was her heavy breathing. Suddenly, her breathing eased and Sharon said, "I can see that."

Virgil blinked. "I thought you hated her!" he groaned, confused.

"Virgil, I do hate her," Sharon said sympathetically. "But, you were still wrong to marry her to try and get away from being gay," she said, remembering clearly the fight from the night before.

Blinking a couple times, Virgil finally shut his eyes and groaned. "Well, I'm going to try and apologize when she brings Chloé back later," he informed and glanced down at his watch. He rolled his eyes he realized it was already 4:30. Naturally, Virgil was getting close to making dinner, and Angelica and Chloé were nowhere to be seen. "Well, I need to go start dinner," Virgil said. Letting out a sigh, he added, "It was… um… Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sharon said. "Oh, and Virgil, one more thing," she said before they hung up. "I would spend a little more time becoming comfortable with your sexuality and a little less time preoccupied with whether or not Richie trusts you." She paused and sniffed. "I mean, keep doing what you've been doing, but understand Richie is going to trust you only when he's ready. In the meantime, spend time becoming comfortable with yourself. I imagine when you do start dating, he'll want to go place, like the movies, and imagine he'll want to hold your hand."

Clearing his throat, Virgil sighed and nodded understandingly. "Thanks for the advice," was all Virgil could think to say, but he knew Sharon had a point. He would have asked how Sharon knew, but he decided to chalk it up to some female intuition he would never understand and left it alone.

"I'll talk to you later, Sharon."

Almost as soon as Virgil hung up the phone, there was a loud knock at the door. Glancing down at his watch once more, Virgil rolled his eyes as he got up from the couch and answered the door. In the doorway stood Angelica and Chloé, but only his daughter was smiling.

"Daddy!" Chloé exclaimed, running into the apartment and hugging her father tightly. "Is Richie still here?" she asked and broke the hug, backing into the living room.

Virgil was about to answer, but when Chloé squealed in delight, he figured his response was no longer required. With a sigh, Virgil turned back to Angelica who was staring at Virgil blankly. Virgil shifted uncomfortably, grasping the doorknob.

"Richie's here?" Angelica asked.

Virgil pressed the back of his pointer finger and middle finger against his mouth and nodded. "He's been here since last night. He came to Sharon's house sometime after you left."

With an airy, uninterested laugh, Angelica rolled her eyes and said, "I knew he would come back."

Virgil narrowed his eyes and raised his right eyebrow. Cocking his head slightly to the right, he questioned, "What are you talking about? What do you mean you knew?" he spat, the last two words emphasized. "He told me you said everything in the book to convince him to not come back."

Angelica shrugged. "Eh. He's in love with you. Unfortunately, there's no swaying love," she said venomously. Her right nostril flaring and a certain fiery and icy glare filled her eyes. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and said, "Of course, you're such a philanderer that I'm not really surprised," she hissed. "Who the hell wouldn't love you?"

Virgil sighed and lulled his head forward. Pressing his hand against his eyes, he took a minute to gain his composure. When he was calm, he looked back up at Angelica who still had the same irritated expression.

"Angelica, do you want to stay for dinner?" Virgil asked calmly.

"Why the hell would I want to do that?" Angelica hissed sarcastically.

Angelica narrowed her gaze, eyeing Virgil suspiciously. After a beat, she sighed and normalized her gaze but left her eyebrows furrowed. She stood silently and rethought her initial reaction. On the one hand, she wanted to say something else sarcastic and leave, but, on the other hand, she wanted to say yes, because Virgil was the only person outside of Georgia who knew how to make her father's fried chicken.

Finally, she shifted on her heels and asked, "You're having my Daddy's fried chicken?" for verification.

Virgil shrugged. "Only for the last eighteen years," he said; his tone light and joking. "I'm making plenty."

The sound of Angelica's heel impatiently tapping against echoed throughout the apartment. Frowning, she looked up at the ceiling and stuck her tongue against her cheek. Finally, she sighed dejectedly and tugged at the hem of her long-sleeved, dark purple dress, readjusting it on her hips.

Finally, Angelica spoke. "Fine. I'll stay for dinner," she said and made her way into the apartment. Stopping beside Virgil, who closed the front door, she said, "But I'm only staying for the chicken," as she pointed at Virgil. Nodding briefly, she dropped her hand and made her way into the living to sit on the couch with Richie and Chloé.

Virgil sighed as he made his way back into the kitchen, stopping only long enough to take in the sight of Chloé sitting on Richie's lap, talking his ear off about the adventures she had just had with Angelica. He smiled when he realized just how much Chloé liked Richie, and just how much Angelica didn't seem to mind, as she sat on the couch, smiling, watching her daughter talk.

Sighing dismally, Virgil turned away and made his way back into the kitchen, suddenly feeling a bit excluded. Without a doubt, he could have gone into the living room and join the group, but something about the notion felt inappropriate; felt like intruding. The realizations he had about the scene far from helped: Chloé had obviously been excited to see Richie, the last person Angelica wanted to talk to was Virgil, and Virgil still had absolutely no idea where he stood with Richie.

It was a series of realizations that made Virgil glad he was in the kitchen, because the last thing he wanted was any of the aforementioned people to see his tears. To make it all the more worse, he honestly had no idea what he felt excluded from in the first place.

Chloé had wanted to tell Richie about her day and not Virgil, Richie trust Angelica more than Virgil, and Angelica got more quality time with Chloé than Virgil could ever hope to have.

Setting down the spoon he had been absently holding, Virgil slid down the side of the counter and scooted into the corner, pulling his legs to his chest. Burying his face against his legs, Virgil let out a low, distressed groan. His life was supposed to be better now that Richie was back in it; there was supposed to be less anguish and feelings of misery, but here Virgil was, sitting on his kitchen floor, on the verge of a meltdown because his life was going better than he ever thought it could, and he was still managing to find flaws. He had to be crazy; having a panic attack over life going better than expected was ridiculous, it had to be.

Footsteps closed in on Virgil and he became vaguely aware of a warmth knelt down in front on him. "Virgil, are you okay?" he heard Angelica say, her voice sounding shockingly distant and surprisingly concerned. "What's wrong? Why are you on the floor?"

A gentle hand rested on Virgil's shoulder making him to jerk and causing his panic level to rise. His thoughts were already swimming, leaving him completely incapable of figuring out why Angelica was being so sympathetic.

The last thing Virgil remembered before a full-blown panic attack hit was the warmth of two strong arms encompassing him, and the honey of a hushed tone whispering a rhythmic melody in his ear. He had no idea who it was, being too far gone at that point, but he felt safe, comfortable, and warm, and that was all that mattered.

Everything was going so fast.

A/N: I spent a long time perfecting this chapter. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I know I'm satisfied with it (if that makes any sense whatsoever). The panic attack Virgil had was completely out of my control; I hadn't even originally planned to add it. I kid you not, Virgil completely took over the production of this chapter and I was nothing more than a translator. The panic attack was all him.

Murr. Um. That's all I have to say about this chapter. Stay tuned: In chapter 23, Angelica and Virgil are finally going to talk!

Yet another chapter that's over 3,000 words. XD I'm on a roll with these long chapters!

Review if you want, but you don't have to, because let's be honest, I'm going to post the next chapter whether or not my readers review. XD