A / N : Thanks for the reviews, everyone! You guys are great, and I love hearing from you. =D

Also, just to warn you guys, this is probably gonna go up to M from the next chapter on. Not really graphic M, if that makes anyone uncomfortable, but there's going to be sex (obviously), and I don't want this website to take my story down. So I think I should probably up the rating? I heard they're getting way more strict than they used to be about it.

Bonus points if you know what Nibbler's singing . . . ;)

The clock on the Robot Arms struck the hour.

"THE TIME IS FOUR A.M," the automated voice boomed. A solitary hovertruck, bearing an overnight delivery of Slurm, buzzed past the Planet Express headquarters and whizzed out of sight. The street was deserted, save for Fry. He had a grim hold upon a leash, which was straining away from him as Nibbler wobbled in and out of the blue halogen haze of the street lights, singing in a deep, unsteady baritone.

When Fry reached the door of building, he took some small pleasure in yanking hard on Nibbler's leash, which cut off the singing momentarily as he scrabbled at the door.

"C'mon . . . . stupid DNA scanner . . . c'mon . . . yes!"

The doors slid open at last and Fry tumbled into the foyer, dragging Nibbler behind him.

"Come on," he muttered.

It wasn't until he reached the kitchen that he noticed a dim light in the hangar and his ears picked up the faint whoosh of a blowtorch. He dropped Nibbler on the conference table and stepped forward uncertainly, leaning over the rail.

"Uh, Professor? It's me. Fry," he added after a moment, remembering who he was talking to.

"Fry?"

Leela emerged from behind the ship, blinking as she removed her protective goggle. She was wearing overalls and her face was shiny and pale, suggesting insomnia.

"Leela?" Fry stumbled backwards and almost tripped over Nibbler, who had jumped off the table and started to sing again, swaying on the spot with all three eyes closed and a hand clasped to his heart, in the tradition of all the best Broadway soloists.

"There's a fine, fine line," he rumbled, "between a loverrrrr, and a friennnd . . ."

"Nibbler!" Leela cried. She hurried forward and tried to catch him, clicking her tongue in annoyance when he ducked underneath her outstretched arm and shot up the piping on the walls.

"What happened?" she asked, frustrated.

Fry merely stared at her, so that after a moment Leela felt her cheeks burn and put a hand self-consciously to her face.

"What is it? Is it my eye? Is it bloodshot? Oh, lord, I look monster-y, don't I? I couldn't sleep, and with one big eye, well, you know how it . . . " She trailed off. "It's the eye, isn't it?" she said flatly.

Fry shook his head mutely. What could he say? Leela was pasty and tired-looking, and wearing overalls Farnsworth had crafted from leftover canvas, which had all the figure-hugging qualities of over-sized elephant skin. It wasn't supposed to be attractive, any of it. And it made absolutely no difference. He wanted her. He wanted her so much.

Some of her hair had escaped its ponytail in the heat and begun to frizz, and there was engine oil streaked on her left cheek. There was a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead and he could just imagine, inside the suit, sweat forming under the heavy pressure of the neck and straps, gathering in her collarbone, trickling down . . .

Ggghhhh. Shut up, shut up, shut up!

"I went out with Amy and Bender," he managed at last.

This much was true, and part of the problem. Because bars with Amy and Bender meant drinking, and drinking meant not drinking as much as he'd like to, because he'd promised Leela - which meant thinking of Leela. And thinking of Leela and not drinking meant watching everyone else get drunk and grope each other, which left him cranky and lonely. Cranky, and lonely, and horny as hell.

He shook his head fiercely and blurted out the first safe thing he could think of.

"I need a Slurm!"

Everything tasted better with an ice-cold Slurm in your hand. Fry glugged his desperately, and felt his jangling nerves settle down.

"We took Nibbler with us," he continued, when it felt safe to do so. "He's really stressed out about all this end-of-the-universe junk. He thinks it's my fault. I swear, I woke up this morning and he was sniffing me. Weird, huh?"

He was aware that he was talking too fast, gabbling really, but the reason for this awkwardness was tactful enough to pretend she hadn't noticed.

Leela sighed. "Yeah. Poor little guy. He takes this steward of the universe stuff so seriously." She leaned in and lowered her voice to a whisper. "I think he's gone a little loopy."

"Me too. And he's worse when he's drunk! He kept shaking me by the shoulders and going "Think, Fry, think!"." Fry paused here for a wild-eyed demonstration that made Leela smile. "And I didn't wanna disturb you so I figured . . . I'm sleeping here tonight anyway . . ."

"What? Why?"

Fry shrugged. "Bender kicked me out of the apartment."

"Oh." Leela paused. "I hope you at least saw Amy home safe," she said reproachfully.

"Nah. Bender said he had it taken care of."

"Bender? Taking Amy home?" Leela gaped at him, trying to acquaint Bender with such an unselfish act. "You don't think . . . Amy and Bender?"

Fry's mouth fell open. "No! No way! Anyway, they were just bickering when I left. You know, shut the hell up, you can't make me baby, that kinda thing. Totally non-sexual in any way."

Leela groaned. "Oh, lord . . ."

"So, um . .." Fry coughed. "How come you're here?"

Leela avoided his eye. "Oh, you know," she said airily. "The ship needed maintenance and Lars is on the night shift, so I thought if I can't sleep, I might as well do something useful."

Fry nodded absently as Nibbler's voice echoed in the domed roof of the hangar.

"There's a fine, fine line, between together and apart . . . hic! . . . and there's a fine, fine line, between what you wanted, and what you got . . ."

Fry felt his jaw clench unconsciously.

"I wish he'd shut up. He's been driving me crazy with that stupid song."

Leela groaned. "Tell me about it. Ugh. I'm sweating like a pig in this thing."

She pulled at the neck of her overalls, exposing another inch of shiny, sweaty skin, and Fry gulped.

Slurm, Slurm, ice-cold Slurm . . . argh!

Leela struggled out of her overalls, revealing her usual skin-tight black stretchpants and a white vest that was just the right side of transparent . . .

"Nnghh."

Think about something else! Fry screamed at himself.

"Whycouldn'tyousleep?"

"Huh?"

Leela frowned, dabbing at her forehead with a cool cloth. She might as well have been writhing around on the bonnet of a car, the effect the action had on Fry's already-suffering libido. He took a deep breath, praying the oxygen wouldn't surge in unwanted directions, and tried again.

"Why couldn't you – sleep?"

It was apparently the wrong thing to ask. Leela – usually so sure and in control of herself – seemed to freeze up, and then she blurted out :

"I was freaking out."

She clapped a hand to her mouth, appalled, and buried her head in her hands.

"I don't know what I was thinking," she mumbled. "I wish I could just . . . take a break."

"Then do."

"Huh? Oh, Fry . . . you don't understand."

"What's to understand? If your life is bugging you so much, just quit it for a while."

"Uh-huh. Maybe just freeze myself, you mean?" Leela said archly.

"No!"

"It was a joke."

"It wasn't funny."

Leela sighed, relenting at his serious expression.

"Fry . . . I can't just take a break from being married. It doesn't work like that."

"It does for swingers." Then the full meaning of Leela's words hit him, and Fry felt his world start to spin. "Uh . . . uh . . . Lars is the problem?" he stuttered. "But – but-"

"But he's perfect and I love him and I always wanted to be married? Yeah, yeah, I get it, Fry. Don't rub it in. I'm the problem!"

"You could never be the problem."

"Fry . . ." Leela groaned. "You're an idiot."

Fry scowled. "Yeah. I know."

Leela bit her lip, feeling unusually ashamed. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

She fiddled with her wedding ring, twisting it on her finger, and then, suddenly, she pulled it off.

"What the hell. Why not?"

Fry stared at her in stunned silence as she threw the ring onto the conference table. They both watched the blurred golden circlet spin round and round, as Nibbler's voice rose to a crescendo behind them.

". . . but there's a fine, fine line between lo-o-ove . . ."

They watched it spin . . .

". . . and a waste of time."