AN: Begins after Life is Fluid.

He's adjusting the backpack on his shoulder when he turns the corner and sees her standing in front of the door. He wonders briefly if he's supposed to be surprised, but he's not really, so he just keeps walking, noting the way her fingers are tapping anxiously against her thigh. He's only about ten feet away from her when she reaches up to run a hand through her hair, sighing and turning away from the door towards him. She startles when she sees him – Mouse forgets sometimes that he, like Jay, has never managed to break the habit of turning himself into a ghost; forgets that while he and Jay are so accustomed to each other that they don't need footsteps to know the other is coming, others aren't always so alert.

"Mouse, hi." Her voice is surprised too, too high, pitching up at the end, but somehow he thinks it has less to do with not hearing him come up behind her and more to do with not expecting to see him here. He didn't miss the way her eyebrows drew together slightly when she saw him. A little burn flickers inside him at that. It's not a big deal, he reminds himself, we haven't been working together all that long. She doesn't know me that well. She knows that Jay and I are friends, but I don't think she really knows. He pointedly ignores the fact that despite the same short amount of time he's known her, he wasn't surprised to see her at Jay's door.

"Hi Lindsay, Jay not answering?" He adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder again, and her eyes follow his movement. She shakes her head.

"I knocked a few times but, yeah, no answer." He steps up closer to her, and she moves aside slightly to let him get in front of the door. He raps on the door gently with his knuckles.

"Jay, buddy, you there?" Mouse can feel Lindsay's eyes on him as he listens intently, nodding slightly to himself when there's nothing. "Probably asleep. Will said he managed to actually wrangle Jay into taking some pain meds this time." He glances back at Lindsay as he says this, just in time to see the slight twitch of her eyebrows. He's not sure what part of what he said was surprising.

"So I guess we'll just have to wait until tomorrow to see him," Lindsay says to his shoulder in defeat, but Mouse isn't really paying attention. He's rustling through his pocket for his key ring, and then fiddling through them to find the right one, which he sticks in the lock and turns. Lindsay has gone very still beside him as he gently pushes open the door and pulls his key back out of the lock. He takes one step inside and turns to look back at her, hurt and irritation twinging again at her parted lips, the slight raise of her eyebrows. When he catches a glimpse of something that looks like jealousy, he can't help but feel a little bit of satisfaction.

"You comin' in?" He can see her re-evaluating the whole situation, trying to figure out what the right answer is. She's been a pretty closed book to him up till now, but under the hallway's fluorescent lights her face betrays her emotions. Concern, fear, longing, uncertainty... And suddenly he's certain, and overwhelmingly grateful, that there's another person out there who loves the bruised boy in that apartment as much as he does, so he gives her a little smile. "Come on, I know he'd want to see you." And he knows this was the right choice, because she looks so relieved as she steps into the dim apartment with him.

He shuts the door behind them and locks it, before wandering into the living room, Lindsay trailing behind him. As he expected, there's Jay sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep, halfway illuminated by the street lamps through the window. Most of the damage is hidden by his clothes and the shadows, but Mouse hears a short sharp inhalation from behind him and remembers how hard it was to breathe when that video started playing on his computer screen. He lets them stand there for a minute, just watching Jay's chest rise and fall, before he turns and puts one hand gently on Lindsay's shoulder. She doesn't quite manage to hide away the pain in her eyes when they meet his, but he pretends not to see it.

"Come on," he mutters lowly, and guides her into the kitchen where he flicks on the light. He lets his bag slide off his shoulder and leans it against the cupboards, slouching comfortably against the counter. Lindsay stands awkwardly with her arms crossed, face once again uncertain.

"Mouse… not that I don't appreciate you letting me in, but he's asleep. What are we doing here?" There's a few different ways he can answer this question, some easier than others. But there's something about standing in this kitchen, with Jay laying battered in the other room, the video playing on a loop in the back of his mind and the way that Lindsay's eyes keep flicking towards the dark doorway of the living room that makes him feel like the two of them are mirror images.

"We're here because we need to reassure our demons that we got Jay out, that he's still breathing. And because if we were anywhere else, they'd be eating us alive." This isn't the answer she was expecting, he knows that, and he can tell she's not quite sure what to say next, so he continues on. "And we're also here because you can bet Jay didn't have dinner because he's exhausted and hurting, but he's too damn stubborn to ask for help. So that's what we're gonna do. We're gonna keep telling ourselves that he's okay, that we're okay, and we're gonna make dinner." She's still staring at him like he's suddenly become a strange animal, but that's okay. She's never seen him broken, not like everyone has seen her. She has no idea that he's been where she is now, and the shitshow shadows that follow him and Jay around. She doesn't see it yet, how much the same the three of them are.

"You know I don't think Jay's gonna have much for us to work with," Lindsay says with a bit of a smile, a shadow of a laugh. Mouse huffs out a chuckle.

"Tell me about it." He grins at her, and reaches down to unzip his backpack, pulling out a bag of pasta and a jar of sauce. Lindsay gives a little "Hm" of a laugh and nods.

"Now we're talking." She steps towards him, finally dropping her crossed arms and relaxing into herself, like she's finally committed to being here, and takes the pasta and sauce out of his hands to place them on the counter by the stove. When she puts them down, he watches her glancing around the kitchen for a second before he pushes off the counter to open the bottom cupboard next to the stove. Maneuvering delicately, he pulls out a stack of pots, holding them awkwardly to try and get the right ones out. Lindsay steps over automatically, and the two of them juggle the pile until Lindsay is left holding the two pots they need, and Mouse slides the rest of them back into the cupboard while she fills one of the pots with water.

It's oddly comfortable, being in the kitchen with Lindsay. They fall into working together easily, checking the water for it to boil, pouring the sauce into the other pot to heat it. Lindsay pulls open a cupboard to get a glass (Mouse thinks this might be the one thing she knows how to find in Jay's apartment) and automatically grabs a second one, filling them both with water and passing one to Mouse. They exchange smiles in companionable silence. They stir the sauce, pour in the noodles and stir those too. Every couple of minutes one of them pads over into the next room and stands just past the doorway to watch a few rises and falls of Jay's chest before coming back into the kitchen.

It doesn't take that long to cook, and then Lindsay is pulling three bowls out of the cupboard, Mouse is grabbing cutlery and they're spooning out three servings. And then they both pause, Lindsay breaking the silence first.

"Should we wake him?" Mouse stares at the bowl of steaming pasta in front of him and taps his fingers thoughtfully on the counter.

"Considering… well, everything, it's probably best we don't. At least, not the way I think you're thinking." He looks over at her, frowning slightly as though she's not quite sure what to make of the subtext in what he just said. He thinks about letting her puzzle about it, but it feels right to explain. "He's a soldier, you know? I mean, technically he's a cop now, but he's always gonna be a soldier. We both are. And he's a soldier who's just been tortured. We try to wake him, he's gonna lash out, and that'll hurt him and us." She flinches when he says the word 'tortured;' the word almost got stuck in his throat too, and he can see the pain this new understanding causes her. But he also sees something else, something a little like gratitude, a little like kinship. "Come on, I've got a better idea." He picks up his bowl and the one they'd filled for Jay, balancing it in the crook of his arm to pick up his water glass too. Lindsay does the same, taking the glass they'd filled for Jay, and he leads the way back into the dim living room. He maneuvers his burden onto the coffee table in front of one of the armchairs, gesturing Lindsay to the other one, and then he walks over to the light switch.

Lindsay looks a little alarmed, but when he starts dragging the switch up slowly and she realizes that Jay's lights have a dimmer switch, her face relaxes again. Little by little, Mouse illuminates the room, watching Jay carefully for any reaction until they're on almost full brightness. On his way back to his seat, he scoops up the TV remote, thanking god that Jay has a habit of turning the volume way down before he turns off the TV, so he doesn't have to hesitate before pushing the power button. Lindsay's smiling now, because she's figured it out as he flicks through the channels to the hockey game and inches the volume up.

Mouse slides the remote back onto the coffee table and picks up his bowl of pasta instead, kicking off his shoes and pulling his feet up to curl on the chair. Once he settles he glances over to see Lindsay holding her bowl, watching him with a little smirk. He shrugs and grins, provoking one from her in return. One of the teams on the TV scores and the crowd erupts in muffled cheering behind the announcer's voice, but Mouse doesn't look at the screen; instead he turns to look at his sleeping friend, mixing his pasta around with his fork. They sit like that for a while, eating in silence. Mouse inventories the bruises he can see on Jay's face, running down his neck, the sliver of skin where his shirt is pulling up his side – and there he can see evidence of the Taser burns too. He's distracted by Lindsay shuffling in her chair, and he glances over briefly to see that she has kicked off her shoes and is now curled in her chair the same way he is. He smiles a little to himself and looks back at Jay.

"Mouse?" Lindsay says it timidly, quietly. When he looks over, she doesn't meet his eyes, still staring at Jay instead.

"Yeah?" She frowns at her pasta, poking at it.

"What did you mean, 'this time?'" She still doesn't look at him as she says it. He furrows his brows.

"What do you mean?" He's not sure what she's talking about, and she finally looks at him, her face three different kinds of guarded and apprehensive. She clears her throat slightly.

"Before we went in, you said, uh, you said Will convinced Jay to take some pain meds this time." Mouse goes still, the two of them statues in each other's eyes and he wonders what she sees in his.

"Oh." He hadn't even really noticed he'd said it at the time, hadn't thought. He swallows and breaks eye contact to look back at his pasta, biting his lip. "I'm, uh…" he trails off, fighting the familiar tightness in his chest, not even knowing where that sentence was supposed to be going. He grimaces a little, clearing his throat, and shifting in his seat. He's looking for a new sentence to start, but Lindsay gets there first.

"Shit I'm – Mouse, sorry, I just, I shouldn't have brought it up." She looks flustered, angry, but he's pretty sure it's herself she's angry with.

"No, it's, Lindsay it's fine, it's just," he scrunches up his face a little, looking for the right words, "it's gotta come from him, you know? Out there, trusting your unit is all you've got, trust is what keeps you alive, and it's everything, and you come back the way we did…" he pauses to swallow hard and take a breath. "When you get back, trust is hard to come by, and it's fragile. So he has to let you in first." He says this mostly to his pasta, because it's easier that way. When he glances back at her, she's staring again, but her eyes skitter away when she sees him looking, landing on Jay.

"We've worked together for three years, Mouse. We put our lives in each other's hands every day." He knows immediately how to answer this, but he doesn't want to say it really. It'll hurt her. But she has to understand, has to, if she wants Jay to let her in.

"Yeah, and Jay trusts you with his life. You know that. But people always say they'd trust someone with their life like that's the biggest thing there is, and it's not. I think trusting the unit with his life is easy. It's trusting you guys with his secrets that's hard. And from what I've heard, you haven't made it easy Erin." Her first name slips out accidentally. And there it is, on her face plain as day, that bit of affront, hurt, defensiveness… "I'm not judging you, but you have to think about it from his point of view. He was already struggling with the Rodiger thing, and then Lonnie gets killed, Voight pulls his badge and all you guys have to say to him is 'get a good lawyer.' No one said to him 'I know you didn't do it,' or 'I believe in you.' You didn't even acknowledge that it had to be difficult for him, nobody said that they were there for him. You tossed him out to drown on his own while you went on with your lives. Hell, Antonio hit him, and blamed him for making his own life more difficult with Voight. And when it finally came out that Lonnie's dad did it, nobody apologized for how they'd treated him. But he's Jay, so of course he's not gonna say anything, he just sucks it up and gets back to work. And then there's the whole mess with Jin and Voight and IA. But he figures it out, and everything is pretty good for a while, and then you tell him you're leaving the unit – his partner. And then you guys get together, but you come back to the unit and break it off. And then…" He pauses because this is the hardest part to say, and he's been letting his words get away from him. He's angry at her, he's realized. He said he's not judging her, but he's furious that she's been such unsteady ground for Jay, and he's furious because he knows Jay never could be, not at her, but he thinks someone has to be. He's said this much already, so he's got to say the rest. He takes a breath, forcing himself to keep looking at Erin, as he says it, even as he sees how lost she looks.

"And then you guys caught the Yates case, and Hank goes behind his back to ambush his brother and accuse him of doing it. And then Nadia died. And you were so busy with your own grief you didn't even acknowledge his, like you were the only person who lost anything. Nadia wasn't just yours, Erin. You know, sometimes Jay'd be staying late doing paperwork, or we'd be having a beer or talking down in the tech room, and Nadia would be staying late too, because she found it easier to concentrate in her work environment than at home. And Jay would quiz her and help her study. I think he was starting to think of her as the little sister he never had. You know the two of them were planning a surprise party for you? We were all helping, but it was the two of them that were putting it all together. You're not the only who's been beating themselves up with guilt either." She's crying now, and he hates himself a little for making her cry. "They ordered a birthday cake. Nadia was going to steal your keys to go pick it up, but she didn't have a chance. So Jay picked your pocket for her and gave them to her. After, I'd walk in a room and he'd be sitting there, just sitting there staring at his keys. But he knew how much she meant to you, so he tried so hard to hide his grief because he had to be strong for you, too busy trying to hold you together to take care of himself. And then…" He pauses looking for the right way to phrase this part, throat tight, but Erin cuts in before he can put together a sentence.

"And then I abandoned him again." Her voice breaks halfway through and Mouse shoves his half-empty bowl onto the coffee table, swallowing hard.

"Shit." He brings one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I – shit." He squeezes his eyes shut, listening to the distant din from the TV. Erin is silent, and he imagines he could almost forget that she's here.

"Mouse?" Her voice is thick from tears, but also concern that ripples across his skin, burning.

"I shouldn't have… I said I wasn't judging you, and then I went and got angry, and I said… and I shouldn't… I shouldn't have said all that." He looks away, staring at the wall.

"Mouse… I'm glad you did. I think it needed saying." He glances back, meeting her sombre eyes. Her lips quirk up in a sad smile before her gaze flicks back over to Jay. "I need to do better." She shifts suddenly in her chair, reaching over, and he starts when she grabs his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm going to do better." He squeezes her hand in return, offering a tentative smile.

They sit like that for a moment, hands loosely entwined, before she leans back into her chair, letting go. Mouse reaches for the remote, upping the volume a few notches more, and they wait.

"Mouse," comes a mumbled voice a few minutes later. "Mouse, did you make spaghetti? You better not have made a mess of my kitchen." Mouse chuckles, watching Jay begin to shift, though his eyes are still closed. He can hear Erin shuffling abruptly in her chair, probably disentangling herself.

"Neat freak," he snorts. "Don't worry your pretty little head, we'll clean up." Jay's eyes finally flutter open, blinking blearily in the light.

"We?"

"Erin's here, too. She helped me make dinner." Jay's brows knit together slightly, eyes flicking over to Erin, who is leaning so far forward Mouse worries she might fall off her chair.

"Hi," Jay mumbles. Erin lets out a little gasping laugh of relief.

"Hi." Mouse unfurls his legs, rolling up out of his chair.

"C'mon, let's get you up," he says, resting a hand gently on Jay's shoulder. Jay grimaces briefly, nodding and bracing himself. Mouse slips a hand carefully under Jay's back. "Guide me?" Jay stays quiet for a second.

"Higher, towards my left shoulder." Nodding, Mouse shifts his hand, holding out the other for Jay to take. "On three?"

"You got it," Mouse agrees, crouching slightly to get the right leverage. "One. Two. Three." Mouse pulls upward, the two of them maneuvering together gently. Not gently enough, Jay wincing with the movement, breath hitching, but they manage to get him sitting upright. Mouse perches on the couch next to him, sinking slowly into the cushions to keep from jostling his friend too much. As Jay settles, Mouse leans forward to grab the full bowl of pasta that had been sitting on the coffee table, meeting Erin's wide, worried eyes. He gives her a reassuring smile, leaning back to pass the bowl to Jay, who accepts it with slow-moving limbs. "How are your shoulders?" Jay grimaces again.

"Hurt like hell." Mouse levers himself off the couch, catching the confusion on Erin's face before she speaks.

"Shoulders?" Jay's mouth tightens, a confliction of emotions flickering over his face, a mingling of pain, memory, fear, relief and a melancholy joy. When Jay stays silent, Erin's eyes flicker over to Mouse. The confusion being overtaken by wide-eyed beginnings of panic, she looks suddenly to Mouse like a weakened echo of Collins the moment he realized he'd stepped on a landmine. He looks at her softly.

"You've never been hogtied," he says quietly, stilled for a moment watching the flood of understanding, and oddly, shame into her eyes. Then he turns, brushing fingers lightly through Jay's hair on his way past into the kitchen. He can hear shuffling, the low murmur of voices through the doorway, but they lose distinction through the walls, and under the sound of the hockey game still playing.

When he comes back in, Erin has moved onto the couch next to Jay, bent towards him with one hand resting lightly on his knee. Her eyes are glittering, but it looks like she's managed to keep tears from falling. Jay is staring into his pasta. Both look up at him at the sound of his footsteps back into the room as he comes around the back of the couch to settle the heat pack gently across Jay's shoulders. Jay turns back to his pasta, bringing the fork to his mouth stiffly, but Erin stays half turned, gaze flicking uncertainly between Mouse and Jay. She tenses, like she might get up, but Mouse lets his fingers land lightly on her shoulder before moving around to settle back into his armchair.

At first, the silence between the three of them is heavy, and Erin seems to be biting her tongue, sometimes looking like she might speak before swallowing the words. Then, one of the teams on the TV scores, the crowd erupting in cheers that draw their attention, and the distraction provides the catalyst they needed. Nothing changes, but everything does, because suddenly they all sink a little more into their seats, a little more into themselves. The silence is companionable, and they sit like that until Jay finishes his pasta, until the heat pack resting on his shoulders is no longer warm, and the hockey game is over. They're all drowsy then. Erin yawns, Mouse following suit before clicking the TV off and standing, stretching out his arms over his head. Jay's eyes are heavily lidded, like he might fall asleep again right where he sits.

"No sleeping on the couch Jay, c'mon." Jay looks up at him, nodding wearily, and lifting a hand for Mouse to take. Erin leaps nimbly out of the way as Mouse moves in to wrap an arm once again around Jay, who lets out a hiss as they stand. Erin gently lifts the heat pack threatening to fall off of Jay's shoulders.

"Should I heat this back up?" Mouse smiles, touched by a little pride – whether she fully intended it or not, she made the perfect choice. Helpful, without pity, giving Mouse the space to help Jay get into bed, and giving Jay the space to lean on Mouse without feeling like he needs to pretend to be okay.

"Good plan," he says, greeted by a relieved curve of Erin's lips before he turns, steering Jay to the bedroom. Jay sinks onto the edge of the bed, yawning, while Mouse pulls out a pair of pajamas, handing them to Jay and clicking on the bedside lamp. Jay starts trying to change into the pajamas while Mouse goes to turn off the main light. Jay lets out a sharp gasp, movements stilling until Mouse comes back to help tug the shirt off his bruised body. The full damage of what Keyes did is suddenly on display, and Mouse can't quite stop the strangled sound in his throat. Dark bruises bloom across Jay's ribs, split by angry cuts and speckled with taser burns. He's still holding Jay's shirt, standing very still, staring, the edges of the room beginning to blur in his vision. And then Jay's hand is wrapping around his own, warm and steadying his trembling fingers, tugging him gently onto the bed beside him.

"I'm okay, I'm right here, we're okay," Jay murmurs gently, uncurling Mouse's fingers from around the shirt, lacing his fingers in its place. Mouse nods, squeezing his eyes shut and raising their links hands to hold them to his lips, whispering into their skin.

"I was so afraid, Jay. They sent a video and made us watch, and I couldn't breathe. And I couldn't find you." Jay's breath hitches.

"But you did. You found me, and I'm okay." Mouse takes a deep breath, holding it, and letting it out slowly before nodding once more and lowering their hands. He squeezes Jay's hand once, then lets go to help Jay pull the soft pajama shirt over his head. He helps Jay shuffle under the blankets, propped up on pillows.

"So where are they?" Mouse asks, straightening up.

"Where are what?" Jay parrots, not meeting his eyes. Mouse raises an eyebrow.

"The pain meds I know your brother gave you." Jay sighs in annoyance.

"In my bag in the living room." Mouse walks towards the door, pausing when Jay calls out. "Mouse." He turns back to face the bed. Jay hesitates for a second. "Are you staying?"

"Of course." Mouse was relieved to hear the question, and he can see the answering relief on Jay's face at his answer. He walks out into the living room at the same moment Erin comes out of the kitchen, heat pad in hands.

"Go on in, I'll be there in a minute," he says, waving her into the bedroom. He finds the bag discarded against the wall, rifling through the pockets until he finds the rattling bottle of pills. He grabs a glass of water from the kitchen, and wanders back into the bedroom, catching Erin leaning back from settling the heat pack around Jay's shoulders.

"No excuses," Mouse says sternly, shaking the pill bottle at Jay, who rolls his eyes. Erin's gaze lingers on the pills a moment, before she looks pointedly at the floor. Jay and Mouse share a worried glance, Mouse hesitating for only a moment before making himself continue as though nothing had happened. He strides past Erin, placing the water glass on the nightstand and checking the prescription label on the pills before shaking two out and handing them to Jay. Jay scowls at the two little white ovals in his palm before tossing them into his mouth and picking up the water. Erin stands, lingering in the quiet pause. Mouse leans down, resting a hand on Jay's arm.

"Holler if you need anything, we've got dishes to do." Jay grins.

"That kitchen better be spotless, soldier," he gruffs. Mouse snorts at the terrible impression of their training officer. He clicks off the side table lamp, touching his fingers once more, lightly, on Jay's arm before guiding Erin through the sudden dark. She follows him, helping to gather up the dishes from the coffee table and bring them to the kitchen, where she gives him an inquisitive smile, one eyebrow arched.

"Our training officer, Grimsby. Swear to God that was his tagline – he had this weird obsession with the kitchen. Also a spectacular mustache." Mouse shakes his head, smiling at the memory. "The kitchen was never clean enough, and he had a way of knowing exactly what punishment you would hate most. Everyone hated him, and he hated everyone. Except Jay. Two neat-freaks in a pod." Erin huffs a laugh.

"And what did the other guys think about that?"

"Oh, they ribbed him endlessly for it, but Jay had a way of convincing Grimsby to go easier on the other guys, so it was good natured."

"And it didn't bother Jay that they were using him?" Mouse chuckles.

"Course it did, but he called it his icebreaker. The guys had a reason to try to get close to him, so it was an opportunity to get to know them. And of course, because he's Jay, pretty much all the guys who took the time to know him came to respect him, to be real friends. The ones who didn't… well, he gave second chances, but not third." Mouse pulls open a cupboard, rifling through to find Jay's minimal Tupperware collection, handing the containers to Erin. She takes them, scooping the leftover pasta and sauce into them while Mouse flicks on the tap, starting the rush of water to let it heat up. Mouse rolls up his sleeves, clicking the plug into place and squirting a generous amount of dish soap into the steaming water pooling in the sink. Mouse half expects Erin to keep asking questions about their time in the military now that he's given her an opening, but she stays silent. He slides the dishes into the rising water, plunging his hands in after them and Erin tugs the dish towel off where it's hanging on the oven handle and leans against the counter. The only sounds are the sloshing of the water, clinking of dishes, and their breathing, and Mouse falls into sniper breathing, steady, and counted. When Erin does break the silence, it's the last question he expected to pass her lips.

"Are you in love with him?" He half-drops the bowl he's washing with a muffled splashing clatter, breath count derailed, and stares at her. She didn't say it like an accusation, like a judgement – it was kind, curious. She'd been watching him, but now their eyes meet and she drops her gaze, cheeks colouring. He takes a deep breath, looking back at the bubbly foam in the sink, and picks the bowl back up. He takes another steadying breath, preparing to speak, but Erin beats him to it again.

"Sorry," she mumbles. "You don't have to answer that."

Mouse lets his hands still. She's given him an out, and part of him is desperate to take it. But there's another part, and he's not sure he could really he could explain why, but there's another part of him that wants to answer her anyway. He goes back to washing again, listening to the swish-swash of the water, feeling it eddy around his fingers.

"Yes and no." He doesn't look at Erin; he hears her surprised inhale, can almost feel the way she snaps to attention. She thought I would take the out. "He's my best friend, my family. We went through hell and back together. Of course I love him - which isn't what you asked." He pauses, remembering the looks of confusion on other peoples' faces, the long drawn out explanations, the 'you're kiddings' and 'that's not a real things', and braces himself. "I'm ace." He peeks to the side, and there it is on her face, the drawn-together eyebrows and slightly narrowed eyes, a little crinkle in her nose. He nodded slightly to himself, only a little disappointed.

"Ace? Like asexual?" He looks back at her – she's looking at him again now, too. And now he notices the difference from the usual faces; unlike others, her eyes aren't blank. She's not looking for an explanation, just a clarification.

"Yeah." She looks away, staring at the wall for a moment, and he holds his breath.

"Huh. But you are in love with him?" He lets out his breath at her matter-of-factness.

"Yes." He realizes suddenly that he's run out of dishes to wash, and he has nothing to do with his hands. He pulls the plug and watches the water level drop slowly, leaving bubbles clinging to the edge. He shakes the water off his hands, reaching for the dish towel. Erin hands it to him, and he drops into one of the kitchen chairs at the table. "Are you?"

"What?" Erin drops into the other chair.

"Are you in love with him?" Mouse repeats, pulling at a thread in the dish towel, looking up at her. Erin sucks in a breath and looks away. She swallows hard.

"Yes." It comes out in a hoarse whisper, and she looks back at him, eyes wide with fear. Mouse nods, offering her an empathetic smile. She sits still and quiet, staring into space, and he lets her. A moment later she meets his eyes with a renewed consciousness.

"Does he know?" Mouse tilts his head slightly to the side.

"That I love him?" Erin nods. "I think so. He knows I'm ace, has for pretty much forever."

"But you haven't told him?"

"No. We've never talked about it." Mouse glances back towards the kitchen door.

"Because if you talk about it, it's real, and you have to confront it." Mouse looks back at Erin, who is staring at him as she says this. One corner of his lips quirk upwards, a sharp half-smile.

"Yeah, something like that." Mouse realizes that he's been tugging on the thread in the dish towel the whole time, and finally sets the fraying fabric aside, disentangling his fingers. He stands, plucking the dishcloth out of the now empty sink, wringing it out and swiping it across the counter. He hears Erin stand as well, and she tucks the discarded dish towel back into the oven handle. Then she pushes the chairs neatly into the table and leans on the edge like she's waiting for a cue from him. He rinses out the dishcloth, hanging it over the tap and wanders out of the kitchen to the linen closet. Erin follows to lean in the doorway of the kitchen, watching him quietly, picking at the bottom of her shirt.

He's very aware of her eyes on him as he pulls out a stack from the closet - a pillow and blankets – and nudges the door closed with his foot. When he flops the stack on the couch and begins flinging open the blankets, Erin pushes off the door and comes over, scooping her phone off the coffee table where she left it.

"I guess I'll head out now," she says quietly, slipping her phone into her pocket. Mouse looks up at her, surprised.

"Oh. I thought… I thought you were staying, that's why… the couch is for you." He straightens up, running a hand awkwardly through his hair. Erin's lips part, eyes widening.

"Oh, I – I hadn't thought – would Jay be okay with my staying?" Under the awkward and uncertain, Mouse hears a distinct longing. He taps his leg nervously.

"You should stay," he says. Erin takes a breath, before nodding with resolve. "I'll get you something to wear." He turns to go into the dark bedroom.

"Mouse?" He looks back. "Thank you."

He brings her an old shirt of Jay's and a pair of pajama pants, handing them off and hooking his fingers through the loop on his backpack where he'd put it resting against the back of the couch. He deliberately doesn't look at Erin as he heads back into Jay's room, only pausing at the doorway with half a glance backward.

"Goodnight, Erin." He doesn't want to know what the look on her face is the moment she realizes where he's going to sleep.

"Goodnight, Mouse." She must have realized, must know at this point, but there's no hint of anything but a soft gratitude in her voice.

AN: This will be a multi-chapter fic. I make no promises about update speed because I haven't finished writing it yet. I won't be that person who holds chapters hostage for reviews, but they would make my day and are motivating. Constructive criticism welcome, incoherent babbling welcome, questions, comments, everything except meanspiritedness is welcome and would be well loved! Tell me what you think!