"Russell? Russell, please?"

It had been thirty minutes. Timmy was growing tired.

"Russell, please come out of the closet."

He'd stopped answering. Timmy's hope was dwindling.

Suddenly a figure made its way past Timmy, and stopped short.

"Hey, Timmy, right?"

"Brenda, hello." He stood quickly, forcing a smile. "Haven't seen you in a good while, how are you managing post-birth?"

"Doing great, actually, everything's falling back into place," she said, gesturing to the places that were falling back in line. "Just came to watch Audrey's little escapade and say hi to everybody, Shea's adorable, isn't she?"

"Cutest baby I've ever seen."

"So what brings you around these parts?"

"Oh, uhm, Mrs. Bingham wanted us in the shoot."

"Who's we? Oh, you and...and Russell?"

Timmy nodded, smile slowly eking down.

"Where is the midget, anyway?"

Timmy removed himself from the closet door and motioned towards it.

Brenda rose an eyebrow. "Say what?"

"He's...uhm...in the closet."

Brenda refrained from laughing, and then realized he was serious. "Oh. Well, what's he doing in there?"

"It's a rather long story." Timmy took a beat, thoughtful. He'd had enough and his voice came out flat and frank. "I'll condense. You see, one day, Mr. Dunbar threw a bagel at me, which I caught. So for several years, I acted as his slave under the guise of an assistant, doing all variety of degrading menial tasks. Gradually as a result of this employ we inexplicably became friends. Recently he made a grand gesture to rescue me despite having put me initially in the line of fire, as it were, which led to us having awkward sexual relations, and now he's locked himself in this closet."

"So basically it's your classic storybook romance."

"One could say so, yes."

"So how long's he been in the closet? The literal one, I mean?"

Timmy sighed. "I've been standing here for about a half hour now. He's stopped talking to me." Timmy shook his head and plastered a smile back on. "So sorry, this really isn't your burden, it's nice seeing you again."

"Let me talk to him."

"Beg pardon?"

"I've been in a few closets in my time, let me talk to him."

Russell had sat himself down against the back wall of the closet, amongst the mops and brooms. He felt somehow secure amongst the mountain of cleaning supplies where nobody could touch him. He heard the door knob rattle again.

"Give it up, Timmy," he muttered softly to himself.

The door opened and Brenda walked in with a smile. "Hey there." She closed the door behind her and hunted for a light above their head, pulling it on. "And let there be light."

"I locked the door, how'd you get in here?"

"I've been able to hotwire a car since I was 13, pretty sure I can pick a closet lock."

Russell stood up, trying to decide what to do. Attack her? No, she was a woman. But she was a lesbian, did that really count? Could you hit a lesbian?

"Timmy sent me."

Russell scowled. "No, he didn't."

"He says you're being a little pussy."

"Okay, now, I know he didn't say that."

"Okay, you're right, that was me. What are you doing in the closet?"

Russell began looking around him for weapons. Mops and buckets could work in a pinch. Lysol might sting if sprayed directly in the eyes.

"Hey, Goldilocks."

Russell turned his attention back to Brenda.

"Why aren't you out there? Audrey's waiting on you to get this photo shoot started."

"Well, maybe that's a stupid idea anyway."

"It matters to Audrey, and last I knew she was your friend, kind of."

"I'll go out there when I'm ready. I'm just...steadying myself, I have a method."

"Does your method involve hiding like a little chicken from charming, handsome young ethnic men waiting outside closet doors for you?"

"It...does...not, and shut up, lesbotron, what the hell do you care?"

"I don't know, just thinking to myself how nice it would be if I had such a great catch willing to just wait around for so long while my stubborn ass threw a hissy fit for a bunch of cleaning products, but alas, I am alone."

Russell heaved a heavy, annoyed breath. "The sooner you leave, the better."

"Awh, what are you gonna do, sponge me to death?"

"What do you want from me!"

"Talk to me. I've been here. Trust me, I've been exactly where you are right now." Brenda looked around. "Well, not...exactly, but pretty damn close."

Outside the closet, Timmy stood nervously glancing from his watch, to the door, then back again. He heaved a heavy sigh. "This is nuts. She'll never break him."

She had somehow broken him.

"The last few days...Timmy and I...got together."

How had she gotten him to say that? How was she doing this? Sheer power of annoyance? Oh, she was good.

Brenda looked unimpressed, waiting for more. Finally, she shrugged. "Yeah?"

"I mean...like...in a..." his voice trailed off gradually, "sexual...way..."

"Uh-huh, and...?"

Russell made a grand gesture with his hands. "Dude, we...no, you don't get it! This isn't normal, you might go around chomping on the first beaver you see, but I leave the logs in the dam!"

Brenda's eyes went wide. "Whoa! Steady there, fella."

"I'm not gay!"

"No, I'm guessing bi. And given how completely freaked out you are by the prospect, you've had that buried pretty darn deep in there."

Russell groaned and sank back down the wall, head in his hands. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I thought I knew, I don't know. I woke up this morning, and I mean like, I literally just woke up, y'know? Like, what am I doing?"

"Are you happy?"

"What?"

"You've got a pretty great boyfriend out there waiting to take cutesie little pictures with you holding cheesy ass props, if that doesn't make you happy, I don't know what would."

"Oh my god, boyfriend. Did you just call him my boyfriend? Is that what we're calling him now, my boyfriend?"

"Isn't that what he is?"

"I don't know. I guess so? Well, he's my husband, if you want to get technical about it."

"Whoa whoa whoa, what did I miss?!"

"You were busy getting your snatch put back together."

For a moment Brenda considered leaving. She really had no good reason to stay, but something compelled her. "Yeah, that's not...exactly what was happening, but out of some sort of morbid curiosity, I repeat, what did I miss while I was busy having things done to my snatch?"

"He was gonna be deported because of something stupid I did, something about a work visa, so I married him to keep him in the country."

Brenda nodded slowly. It was all coming together now. "Hard to hide it after that."

"Hide what?" asked Russell gruffly.

"Come on, you know."

Russell sank down, wrapping his arms around his knees protectively.

"I don't know you all that well, so I'm just gonna come out and call this like I see it. You're a womanizer, right? Bed a lot of women. And then you meet a guy. And there's something about him. You start to like him in a way you don't understand. He threatens your masculinity. And then you get a little giddy. You let it get to your head. You act like a stupid kid, you get a little sexy, and you enjoy it. You're having fun. And then you remember-" A gasp. "Oh, wait! I'm the womanizer! I'm the macho, macho man! On the right track so far?"

Russell glared at Brenda with a slight sneer. "What makes you think you're so smart?"

"So now you're scared. But it's too late. Everybody knows that you've switched teams, and it's getting late in the game and you don't know the rules. You're up to bat and you have to swing and you're going in blind and there's no backing down now. So what are you gonna do?"

"When did it turn into a bad sports analogy?"

"I don't know, just run with this."

"Why are you even in here, what's this got to do with you, anyway?"

Brenda rolled her eyes. "Nothing. It's got jack squat to do with me and frankly, I don't care that much and I don't really like you, but I meant it when I said you have a pretty great boyfriend. Husband. Whatever, I mean it, he's really a pretty cool guy, and you're a sucker if you'd rather stay in the closet - literally - than be out there right now with him. Listen, Russell, I know you're scared. I remember being scared, and it's not the same, it's never the same for anybody, but all I know is you can't sit in the closet forever when you have people like Timmy standing outside waiting for you."

With that, Brenda left the closet, closing Russell back inside behind her.

She looked to Timmy with a nod and a small smile. "He's all yours, go get him."

Timmy opened the door slowly. Russell looked up at him from his place on the floor, still lost in Brenda's words, trying to digest what had just happened.

"Hello," managed Timmy, closing the door behind him. "May I sit down?"

Russell shrugged. "It's a free floor."

Timmy sat cross legged across from Russell, and for awhile they were both quiet. Timmy spoke first.

"I like what you've done with the place."

Russell maintained his stoic composure. Timmy poked at his leg with a finger. Nothing.

Timmy placed a hand to Russell's chin, moving his face around in examination. Russell objected to this, pushing his hand away.

"The hell are you doing?"

"Trying to see if she somehow exorcised the asshole from you. Can't tell."

Russell pouted a little at this and Timmy smiled.

"Russell, would it...would it help if I confessed something to you?" Curiosity clearly peaked, Timmy continued. "I've missed you. It's been only one day and I feel pathetic, but I kind of did want to hightail it to your place and...uhm, hang out, shall we say."

"By hang out, do you mean..."

"Yes."

"...Why didn't you?"

"I didn't want to appear quite as desperate as you've come across."

Russell rolled his tongue in his cheek. "Harsh but fair."

"Seems I needn't have bothered anyway, you weren't missing me quite as much as I was missing you."

Russell groaned. "That's not true."

"Then what's all of this? Making dates, ignoring calls, general jackassery, 'Ali Blah Blah'?"

"Dude, I think I missed you too much for just one day. I freaked out...I think my brain went the opposite direction. I woke up this morning and it all just...it hit me that this last week I came on...did I come on strong? Like, really strong?"

Timmy nodded emphatically. "Yes, you sort of did."

"No wonder you freaked the hell out. I guess it's finally catching up to me."

"It's alright. We're both allowed a certain amount of freaking the hell out in all of this, it's your turn now. Tomorrow it will be my turn again, we'll take shifts. I'll draw up a chart."

"Yeah, get on that."

Timmy gave a smirk. "And uhm...this big date of yours tonight?"

Russell sneered. "Oh, uhm...yeah, that, I...I lied, I wanted to gauge your reaction."

"And how did I react?"

"Yeah, you're gonna have to work on that jealousy streak."

Timmy rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'll be sure to work on that. So...what do you say we go face the world?"

Russell was starting to relax. "Just...gimme another minute."

Timmy stood up and walked the short distance to Russell, squeezing in beside him amidst the mess.

"Tight squeeze," said Russell. He winced. "God, everything I say sounds wrong these days."

Timmy reached for Russell's hand, and Russell met Timmy's eyes. He was somehow surprised by this simple gesture of Timmy moving, sitting beside him, holding his hand.

Russell gave a half smile. "Last time I was in a closet with someone like this...high school. Sherry Weinstein. I was 17, she was 15. All we did was make out pretty intense, but we got caught, and oh my god, we got in so much trouble. This was, like, prep school, so this stuff was taken kind of serious, y'know? But my dad had the money and money talks."

"Where were you going with this story?"

"I don't know. I guess just that it started kind of like this."

"I happen to know for a fact that the last time you were in a closet with somebody intimately was last month with the brunette from financing."

Russell rose an eyebrow. "Ohh...oh, yeah...Biannnnnca...Bianca the Bimbo...Bianca the bimbo with the great big-"

Timmy cleared his throat rather loudly.

"No, but that...that was different. I mean with somebody I like. I kind of feel like I'm in high school again, you know, like when you have a stupid crush on somebody and you get those weird butterflies in your stomach, I guess that's how I've felt this whole week. Sneaking into closets, stealing kisses..."

"Oh, is that what we're doing, now?"

"What, stealing kiss-"

Timmy stole the kiss. Upon breaking, Russell laughed nervously.

"What was that for?"

"Confidence," said Timmy.

"I could maybe use a little more...confidence..."

Russell leaned in for more confidence, and Timmy put up a hand. "Later. Permitted you follow me out of here and we do what we've come here to do."

"Using sex as bribery? Timmy, you're already fitting into this wife role perfectly."

"You may have just extended the wait."

"Not a problem, I have my ways." He began to slide a hand up Timmy's leg, which Timmy unflinchingly led back down as he continued with his next thought.

"I did a lot of thinking yesterday. I was doing a lot of freaking out myself. Doubts."

"Yeah..."

For a few moments they looked down, silent, before Timmy spoke again. He knew they needed to get out of here, but he felt compelled to speak.

"Russell, what do we have in common?"

Russell's eyes went wide as he looked back to Timmy. "What?"

"It's just...I was...what do we have in common?"

They stared at one another for a long time. Russell was about to speak when Timmy interjected.

"Don't say sex."

"Damn it." Russell thought a moment longer. "We both like the Bruins."

This didn't seem enough for Timmy.

"Uhh...that...that restaurant on 3rd."

"I hate that place."

"Wait, seriously? You eat like 20 breadsticks every time we go over there!"

"I'm generally there as a lackey when you're out with some woman, you never let me order anything, I'm trying not to starve to death!"

Awkward. More silence.

Russell had it this time. "Musicals."

"...What?"

"Broadway musicals, uhm...Rent, Fiddler, Annie..."

"Well, I suppose I-"

"Yeah, yeah, remember that time on the flight to Miami when we-"

"Oh please, sir, Russell, I'd rather forget about that...you do realize the only reason I sang all of those songs was because you had me miles and miles over a figurative barrel, that was really one of those 'I had no choice' situations..."

"You liked it!"

"Everybody was watching us, I was utterly humiliated, and, hm, oh yes, you threatened to tell everybody aboard I was a terrorist if I refused to sing!"

"...Did I?"

"Yes."

"...Should I have maybe not taken us on this little trip down memory lane?"

"Perhaps not."

Russell flinched, frustrated with himself. He thought he'd nailed it, but he'd only made things worse. He looked down to find Timmy's hand still linked with his. Hope prevailed. He closed his eyes and in a last ditch effort reached deep down inside himself, sucked up every ounce of pride he had left...and began to sing.

"The sun'll come out...tomorrow..."

Timmy looked to Russell slowly.

"Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow...there'll be...sun..." No response from Timmy. He kept it up hopefully. "Just thinkin' about tomorrow...clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow...'til there's none..." Russell chuckled lightly. "Come on Timmy, I feel a little stupid here...you know the words, help an idiot out..."

Timmy found himself smiling lightly as Russell continued.

"When I'm stuck with a day...that's gray...and lonely..." Russell mocked a frown.

Timmy rolled his eyes, adding his voice to the song as they sang together.

"I just stick out my chin...and grin...and saaaaay...ohhhhh..."

They sang a little too loudly now. "The sun'll come out...tomorrow...so you gotta hang on 'til tomorrow...come what maaaay...tomorrow...tomorrow...I love ya...tomorrow...you're only a daaaaay...aaaaaa...waaaaaaaay...!"

The men finished in almost uproarious laughter, which Russell broke with a deep kiss, hand pressed firmly to the back of Timmy's head. The kiss grew momentarily more serious, and they both found the sense to stop it, allowing their foreheads to rest naturally together.

"Mm." Timmy seemed somehow satisfied now, his concerns subsided in this moment. "You know, when we leave this closet...we'll be literally coming out of the closet. To everyone. This is absurdly ridiculous. You just had to pick a closet, didn't you?"

"It seemed convenient."

Timmy leaned back, meeting Russell's eyes with a smirk. "Shall we go?"

He stood now, extending a hand to Russell, who grimaced, but took it and stood.

Timmy turned to leave but Russell yanked him back.

"What now?"

Russell looked stunned, as if he'd stumbled upon a sudden revelation. "I found the words."

"...What?"

"The words, you asked me why, I said I didn't know, I didn't have a reason. I know now."

"Yes...?"

"Timmy, I've...I've been treating you like crap and you've been hanging around outside that door, anyway. Not just today, not just that door. All the doors, all these years, all the figurative doors on all the figurative closets. God, this is stupid, I suck at analogies or metaphors or whatever this is..."

Timmy's voice went soft. "No, please, continue..."

"Uh, you...you take the time. Nobody else ever took the time. Nobody else ever tracked me down in cabs when I was too drugged to know where the hell I was, nobody ever sang show tunes to me in a crowded airplane to make me feel safe, even if I did threaten to have you water boarded if you didn't... nobody ever tried to make me a better person, forced me to do boring volunteer work or budget or uh or broaden my horizons or whatever...nobody ever stuck around with me for so long and did so much crap with me for seemingly no apparent reason other than maybe they didn't actually hate my guts..."

"Again, sir-Russell-I was your assistant, you do realize you were paying me to be around..."

"Any other assistant would have gotten out of there years ago."

"Did you ever ask any other assistants to do half of what you had me do?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then how do you know? And why me? Why did you ask me to do those things?"

"Timmy, I'm trying to say something here!"

Timmy forced himself to shut up. "I'm sorry."

"Timmy, you...you were there for me. Yeah, at first I had you do whatever stupid crap I could think of because...well, I'm kind of an asshole, it's kind of a hobby. And then it was because I wanted you around. Like I'd found something I didn't know was missing, and it was you, I guess. I...liked you. Just like everybody else, Tim, people are drawn to you, you've got this weird thing where you attract people because you're just an obnoxiously good person, it's annoying but that's it. I came up with every dumb excuse in the book to be with you, you know that, you're not stupid, you're the smartest person I've ever known. And you went along with all of it, and every time you did you made me fall deeper and deeper into this stupid pit I fell into of wanting to be around you. So...that's the reason, you made me feel wanted, like somebody really cared about me, like somebody didn't hate me. Even though you told me you hated me all the time, I mean, I knew you didn't mean it. Because when most people would have walked away and given up, when push came to shove, you kept on following me around and I could never figure out why, all I knew was you weren't giving up on me and that was more than I'd ever gotten from anybody."

Timmy took a deep breath. "So that's it, then?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

A smile slowly formed across Timmy's face. "Thank you, Russell."

And with that, it was time to come out of the closet.