Russell awoke at noon to find himself on his apartment floor, dazed and trying to remember just exactly how he got there. As he stood, his head spun slightly. He usually held his liquor fairly well, but he'd been drinking over the course of yesterday...before he ever got to the hospital, never mind chain drinking with Timmy. Ohhhh...Timmy!

"Ohhhh, shit!" He was putting the pieces together. He'd married Timmy. He'd been drinking. What the hell had happened last night? He walked shakily into the bathroom and his eyes traced his reflection in the mirror. He hated his face this morning. He felt suddenly empty. He addressed his mirror image: "Damn it, Russell."

He'd done something stupid. Not marrying Timmy, that was probably the smartest, noblest thing he'd ever done. He couldn't comprehend life without his presence and if this is what it took to keep him here...but he knew he'd done something stupid.

And then it snapped. "Oh, god!" He looked very intently at his mirror self. "What the hell did you do?! Were you...coming on to him?! You..." He gasped at himself, incredulous. "You kissed a dude on the neck! You...oh my god, you said you loved him! What the fuck, Russell?! LADIES! WE LIKE LADIES! Timmy's not a chick!"

His body slumped forward against the sink, his face hitting the mirror. "Ugh, I'm a moron!"

No, the stupid thing wasn't the marriage. The stupid thing was letting his guard down. He'd shown his cards. He hadn't even known his own hand, and he'd laid it down like a cheap little...

"No. I can fix this. I'll just call him, he'll be kind of weird but we'll laugh, everything can go back to normal." No. No, not normal. Timmy wasn't his assistant anymore, he was his husband. His husband, who seemed to hate his guts and was no longer obligated to spend every day catering to his flights of fancy. But they were married - certainly that gave Russell certain rights. Was he never supposed to see his husband?

"Work visa," he reminded himself. Sham marriage. Timmy didn't want to be married to him.

"Do I want to be married to Timmy...?"

Russell knew the answer. At the very least, on some basal level, he knew what he wanted from Timmy. Russell hadn't been hiding his subconscious feelings very well lately. The last year had led way to a number of veiled come ons, weird coincidences, desperate actions to keep him around. But he shoved the thought back down. He didn't want these thoughts. He did, but he didn't. He was confused beyond reason.

This was all Radha's fault, he assured himself. So sure, she had some uncanny similarities to Timmy, and sure, he'd nailed her with a kind of genuine passion with which he'd rarely nailed anyone, but that didn't mean anything! It was a bizarre coincidence. If anything, this weird drunken come on had been a case of mistaken identity.

Russell's heart sank very quickly to his stomach and everything started to shift in his brain. He knew what was happening, but didn't want to admit it. Everybody had caught on to Russell's game when Radha came into the picture, they knew his true intentions for keeping Timmy around had to be deeper than needing a sidekick lackey. Marrying him just made matters worse.

Something had happened with Radha, something he hadn't told anybody and that he was trying to forget. His intentions had become overwhelmingly clear and she had called him out on it...

God, he wanted Timmy.

"No, I don't!"

Yes, he did.

"Do I...?"

He had a routine. A cliche routine, the stereotypical jackass misogynistic male, chasing skirts and taking whatever he could get. So Timmy scared the hell out of him. His presence had gradually broken a mold for Russell. Gradually over the course of knowing him, Russell had begun to change. He was fooling around a little less, he was grounding a little more. The chase was losing its' edge and he realized more and more that maybe love wasn't as overrated as he always joked it was. He wanted it more than anything, and it was the one thing his money could never buy. He was lonely. Timmy made him feel less alone.

Still, he was scared of getting too close to Timmy. He was uncomfortable with vulnerability, so he treated him like crap, but he wanted him to stay. Just at arm's reach. So he always apologized in some half-assed way when he needed to, and it usually didn't take much to make Timmy stick around. This was just how Russell handled relationships...but it almost hadn't worked, this time. He wanted Timmy to stay, he needed him to stay or he might fall apart. Nobody had ever gotten so close and stuck around before Timmy...as if he knew that deep inside Russell wasn't so bad, and that it was largely a facade.

But how could he drop it, now? It was too late, there was no way-

The phone rang. Russell flipped gears and raced for the living room where his phone was on the floor; he'd stared mindlessly at it before passing out the previous evening, hoping for contact from Timmy that never came.

He answered without looking at the caller and his voice came through a little too excited.

"Timmy?"

"Gay," came the voice on the other end. Jeff.

"Oh. What do you want, I thought you were busy being the lamest dad ever?"

"Yeah, well, Audrey wanted me to get everybody together...she had this weird idea, I think she's in post-birth stupor."

"She didn't give birth, Brenda did."

"Well...some kind of stupor."

Russell was itching, wanting Jeff off the phone. Timmy might be trying to call. "So what exactly is this big idea of hers?"

"She wants a group photo."

"Wow, double lame."

"I know, but she has some cockamamie idea in her head that we're a dysfunctional 'family of friends' or something. She's on about how all of our lives changed yesterday and she wants to commemorate it...by the way, about that." Jeff's cadence never changed, but he carried a slight snark now. "What the hell happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're a married man. And you're married...to a man. I knew you guys were a little touchy feely but-"

"No we weren't! I mean, aren't! I mean, he needed a favor, I did him a favor."

"Well, be sure to not let me know when you consummate the marriage. I'm still dealing with the backlash from Liz, I don't need anybody else blabbing at me about stuff you do with your dong."

"Sick. Shut up. What about this picture?"

"Uh yeah, she called a photographer and something about next week. So talk to the hubby, we'll coordinate."

"Fake hubby."

"Whatever, I gotta go, she's talking about photo props or waffles or something, I don't know."

"Later."

The line went dead and Russell stared at his phone, willing it to ring again. He stared for what must have been a full minute before sighing, giving up.

And then it rang.

It was Timmy.

Russell answered, heart racing, and forced a casual, "Hey."

"Hello, Mr. Dunbar."

Russell chuckled. "That's your name now, too!" That's it. Goofy, joking, put up the wall.

"No...no, it isn't. I suppose I'm keeping my maiden name."

Russell sneered. "Well, then, what's with the phone call, Mr. Patel?"

"I wondered if you might be available over lunch. I-I could come over to your office, or-

"I'm still at home."

"Naturally."

"But I can meet you there. Or you could just come over to my place, or-"

"The office then. I'll be there in an hour."

Timmy hung up abruptly, leaving Russell in mild dread on the other end. He looked at himself; he looked terrible. He calculated the time it would take to shower and dress, and set himself in motion. This was make it or break it time.

Russell stared at the clock. Second. By. Second. Still no Timmy. He'd been doing little other than pacing his office floor, drinking coffee, trying to stay calm. Finally, a knock on the door.

"Come in?"

The door opened slowly, and Timmy averted his gaze at first, staring mostly at the floor as he entered the room. "Your assistant let me in."

"Ah, he's a nice guy, isn't he?"

"Yes, yes he seems nice."

The two men stood at either end of the room, not looking at one another. After a few awkward coughs and some haphazard whistling on Russell's part, Timmy forced himself to look him in the face. As if on cue, Russell returned the gaze, and Timmy broke the silence.

"About last night, sir-"

"I can explain. I can explain everything."

Timmy nodded. "I would really appreciate that, because you see, uhm..." He laughed lightly. "It seems as if you were...making an advance." No response. "And after the recent incident with the woman who so closely resembled me and the little snafu that we vowed to no longer speak of..." Still nothing. Timmy was trying to keep an even keel to his voice, but he was gradually getting more flustered. He was frustrated. He wanted answers. "Sir, what in the bloody hell is going on?"

"Dude, I was drunk. You look like my girlfriend, easy mistake."

"She's no longer your girlfriend, she broke up with you. Because you were creeping her out."

"That's not what happened!"

"Oh please, sir, let's not hash this out again."

Russell was practically screaming, now. "You want to know why Radha broke up with me?"

Timmy's voice rose to match Russell's. "Yes! Yes, maybe you can be honest with me for once!"

"You really wanna know?!" He paused, then began with the back peddling. "Man, like I said, I don't know, I guess she was creeped out by how much you were trying to be exactly like her." He laughed sharply, his voice cracking. "What was your goal, to get me in bed? You knew I was sexually attracted to her so you were trying to manipulate your way into my bed, is that it? You came on to me last night, you're sick!"

"Why is that your version?! MY GOD. Are you clinically insane or is it merely a hobby? I want the real reason!"

"...That is the real reason..." His voice trailed off.

The men met in a staring contest until Russell cracked, speaking through his teeth.

"I screamed out the wrong name."

Timmy froze. He understood immediately; it was blatantly obvious. As obvious as it was to anybody during the dawn of Radha. But he didn't want to say it; he barely wanted Russell to say it, he dreaded knowing, but he coaxed anyway.

"I'm quite sure that wasn't the first such occurrence."

"Yeah, but this time was a little different." Russell's pitch began to rise higher, a clear sign of nerves. "She was kind of weirded out." He shrugged with a grimace, "Like come on lady, what's the problem, you're not the first gal I've ransacked."

"But, sir...you seemed to genuinely like this woman."

"Well, she was sweet. And...she had that gorgeous skin and that accent and-"

"She was me."

Russell glared incredulously. "Whaaaaat?"

Timmy couldn't take this anymore. "Sir, whose name did you scream out during sex with Radha?"

"Why does that matter?!"

"You screamed out my name, didn't you?!"

Russell placed a hand over his mouth as if he were taken quite aback by such a suggestion. Timmy's look was unwavering, albeit clearly disturbed, and Russell's facade quickly dropped. He looked down and said nothing, which stood as an answer for the affirmative.

After a long silence, Russell spoke. "It doesn't mean anything."

"How is that possible...? This woman looked like me, she spoke like me, she was me. My god, this is one of the most disturbing conversations I've ever had in my life...I don't even think I can go on with this, I mean really."

All the color drained from Russell's face as he cupped his hands over his mouth and turned away from Timmy, trying to figure out what to do. He was visibly shaken. He may have been trying not to cry.

Timmy was hesitant on how to proceed. He'd been doing a lot of thinking and this meeting wasn't going the way he had planned in his head. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about the previous day's events for even a minute. It was affecting his work, it was driving him insane. And the worst part was not knowing how to feel about any of it. He could have left when things first started getting weird. He could have left years ago. Why was he standing there now, looking at Russell, waiting for him to turn back around as if they had any more to say? Why the hell was he trying to make this right?

Timmy's voice was very soft, anger subsiding and making way for something akin to sympathy. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. Sir..."

Russell regained himself sharply and turned around. He stared into Timmy's face, almost through it. "Nothing more to say."

"Yes, sir. I suppose not."

"Come on, drop the sir. Please."

Timmy broke gaze for a moment before returning to meet Russell's eyes.

"Russell." He watched a sigh of relief come from the other man's chest. Timmy felt that warm tingling again, the one from last night, the one that made no sense to him. He didn't want to deal with it any longer. He wanted rid of it. And yet, he found it far more comfortable than raising voices and felt compelled to keep it going. "Russell...I...want you to know that it's okay." He cut Russell off before he could reply. "I don't really know why exactly it's okay, but it's...it's okay. I forgive you your faults. I know these last few months have been...strange, to say the very least. I absolutely did not overreact to any of these transgressions, but perhaps I can see where they were emanating from."

Russell struggled to speak. This boggled him, as he was rarely short on words; if anything, he had too many words. He shot himself in the foot with every stupid word. He was scared to speak for once in his life, which made him doubly scared. He swallowed hard, closed his eyes, and walked the distance to his desk. He sat down, adjusted his tie, wrung his hands.

"I'm sorry."

"For what, si- Russell. What are you sorry for, Russell?"

"I don't really know. I guess...for everything. I mean, I'm the first to admit I'm an asshole."

"You're really not sir, but thank you."

"Not an asshole...?"

"Not one to admit it."

Russell nodded. "You can leave if you want, Timmy. I deserve that."

Timmy turned slowly to walk away. He paused as his hand brushed against the door handle, and instead he turned back around sharply. "No, I'm not finished. We're not...we're not finished."

Russell seemed relieved. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Russell, I don't understand what's happening but...I've grown accustomed to you."

It wasn't exactly a returned declaration of love, but it was something. Russell stood back up, walking slowly, hesitantly towards Timmy. Timmy found himself walking equally as slowly to the center of the room. They stopped about a yard apart, avoiding each other's gaze. How long could this last? Somebody had to do something. Both men stood rubbing their necks, looking around aimlessly, pretending that nothing was happening. Something was, indeed, happening.

Timmy looked to Russell finally. "I had a strange night."

Russell chuckled softly. "I woke up on the floor."

"I had strange dreams. I won't elaborate."

Russell raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, to which Timmy bit a lip awkwardly, but they let it go.

Scratch that, Russell wasn't letting it go. "What kind of dreams?"

The men were inching slowly closer to one another without realizing it.

"Well...I mean, it's only natural isn't it that when one is aroused unduly that the brain might...concoct scenarios."

"Aroused...?"

Timmy clenched his teeth. "I didn't mean that. I mean, I didn't mean it like that. I mean to say...never mind. Just never mind, I don't know what I'm talking about anymore." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Come here."

Russell looked around and then back to Timmy. "I am here."

"No, I mean...I need to know something. I don't think there's any other way to figure this out. God, what am I even saying. Please, just...just..."

Russell's lips lunged forward onto Timmy's. For just a moment, and then he pulled back, trying to read Timmy's face. It was blank. Lost. No answers.

"Timmy...?"

"Still thinking," he replied sharply, breathlessly. What was happening? What the hell was he doing? Get out. Get out now. Russell Dunbar had just kissed him, and not on the neck this time. GET OUT.

Timmy closed his eyes and kissed Russell. He pulled away gently, shakily, eyes still closed; the next thing he felt were Russell's lips back on his, more serious now, with a kind of force. One of desperation and desire, of something felt too long in some clouded recess of Russell's mind. Timmy felt the brush of his beard and tasted an alcoholic heat on his breath, and for a moment Timmy did nothing in response, rendered still in shock. And then his brain forgot what it was doing; he sank into it.

The kiss was hard, but controlled, as if both men were afraid of what they were doing. Finally Russell veered from this, a hand to the back of Timmy's head.

Timmy was lost. Whatever was happening, unwittingly or not, he was going with it. Their tongues fought. He mirrored placing a hand behind the other's head, which prompted Russell to take it a step further and let his other hand wander to Timmy's chest, trailing slowly down. When his fingers reached Timmy's waistline and began fiddling with his belt, something snapped in the younger man's mind, a moment of sanity in which he broke away and stared at Russell, his breath heavy and confused.

"Oh my god, what are we doing!?" Timmy sounded almost panicked.

"I don't know, I don't fucking know, you started this!"

"Oh dear lord, I did not start this, YOU started this! You've been after this for months now, for...for years, in some sick perverted kind of scheme you've gotten me to..." Timmy trailed off. He realized now that this wasn't merely Russell's doing. He had stayed. He had come back, knowing the game that was being played. He had been intrigued, he wanted to understand. He was fighting the mental fog that was making him behave so irrationally, but it was winning...either that, or perhaps what was happening wasn't so irrational after all.

Russell was a few steps ahead in this mind game. He'd been fighting this a lot longer than Timmy had. He had never connected with somebody in this way, and he wanted it. In this moment he wanted Timmy, yes, but it wasn't really lust, and that's what drove him the craziest. He knew what to do with lust...with women and lust. But this wasn't feeling quite as foreign to him as it had when the thoughts first started, if he was honest with himself. Months ago. Years ago. He'd slowly come to understand that Timmy completed him, in a yin yang kind of balance of good and evil in which he was the evil. And this good, gentle human was standing in front of him, clearly fighting with himself. He realized it would take time for Timmy to catch up. He was barely there himself.

"Timmy, I...I think I want this. I want...I want us."

Timmy pressed his hands to his face, trying to pace his breathing.

"I'm pretty sure I want this Timmy, but the thing is...I can't...I can't take it from you. If you want to give it to me, I'll take it, but not like this. Not if you-"

"Okay."

Shock. "O-okay?"

"Perhaps I want it too, I think, I don't know, I don't really know what I want, but sir - Russell, if we're going to do this, let's just..."

Russell took this as an invitation. He attacked. Before Timmy could react, Russell was kissing him, guiding him backwards and hitting hard against the door. He broke the kiss, finding Timmy's neck as he worked on the buttons of his shirt.

"Oh my god," muttered Timmy. "Ohhh my god, oh lord, what-" Russell's hand was working it's way down Timmy's chest, stomach, and finally gripped firmly at his crotch. "Mph. Damn it...Russell, there's no reason to - nng - to rush things, we can-" Russell shut him up with another kiss, which Timmy mindlessly returned briefly before a voice came from the other side of the door.

"Everything okay in there, Mr. Dunbar?"

Russell looked Timmy straight in the eyes while replying, "Just fine. No interruptions."

"Yes, sir." They listened to make sure the coast was clear.

Timmy took this as an opportunity to swerve away from the door, out of Russell's grasp. "I can't do this, Russell, I just can't."

Russell grabbed Timmy by the shoulders. "It's okay, I won't tell anybody, you think I'd want anyone to know? Please."

"It never even crossed my mind that you would dare tell another living soul, but...still, I don't think we should, this is insane."

"It's not insane, Timmy, it makes sense, it's the only thing that makes any sense to me anymore."

Timmy shook his head. "What if somebody comes in?"

"Dude, you know how many chicks I've taken in here. It's cool. I've versed the new guy on this, nobody gets in."

"But I-I'm on my lunch break, it's nearly over and I really can't afford to lose this job...please, I think we need to stop."

Russell's face went cold. He was at a loss. Timmy quickly amended his statement.

"That is to say, we should...we should wait. Maybe...maybe this evening."

Russell's voice went dead serious. "Where are we meeting?"

"Your apartment?"

"You'd better show up."

"I will."

The men stared at one another silently for what felt like several minutes.

"Okay," spoke Russell.

"Okay," returned Timmy. Without another word he turned deftly and exited the office. Russell's new assistant looked up from his desk, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Mr. Patel."

Timmy nodded as he walked away. His stomach felt like a ton of bricks and his head was woozy. He was coming to the realization that he had just made plans with Russell to...to what? Have sex? Gay sex? Gay sex with Russell?

"Sex with Russell Dunbar..." He had inadvertently said this out loud. He was in the elevator. With several other people. They were staring at him and his eyes went wide. "-Is something you never want to have. Trust me, he was once my boss. Riddled with disease, you know, selfish lover, excuse me."

He stepped off the elevator and upon the door closing stomped a foot in frustration, flustered. He couldn't deal with this right now. He had to go back to work. For the employer who wasn't trying to get him into bed. He hoped. He wasn't sure what was happening anymore.

He sighed shakily under his breath as he exited the building, "Well, this is certainly a development."