Fate will twist the both of you.

"Ah!" Timmy awoke with a start. He was sweating and breathing heavily, but as he began to look around at his surroundings - his own familiar apartment - he eased down.

"It was just a dream," he concluding with a heavy sigh. Then he paused to think and his face froze. "Wait..."

His mind flashed back to the previous day - the Binghams had a brand new baby and had announced another on the way...Adam and Jennifer had finally bitten the bullet and gotten married...he and Russell had-

"Oh, my god!"

No more sleep tonight. Timmy jumped out of bed and shook himself off like a wet dog, trying to shake off the thought of being married to the likes of Russell-freaking-Dunbar.

"Work visa," he muttered. He had to keep his priorities straight. This was an arrangement to keep him in the country. There was no subtext here. There was no real marriage. It would be over soon. "Green card marriage...which of course is illegal. I'm a law breaker. I'm a criminal and I'm married to Russell Dunbar, oh my god what in the name of all that's holy have I done?"

...What would he tell his parents? His sister who had once dated the little troll? His family would surely disown him. Or maybe not - Russell had certainly made an impression on his parents and they seemed thrilled with his pithy attempts at appreciating Indian culture.

And then it hit him - Russell had done this for him. To keep him here. He didn't want to lose him.

Maybe he didn't want to lose Russell, either.

No no no, wait wait wait, what was happening...?!

Timmy walked swiftly to his bedroom door and, being still closed, bashed his head gently against it. He tried to remember what had happened after the - ugh - wedding.

Let's see, hospital, baby, wedding, everybody happy, chatting and congratulating, and then he and Russell had left together...

The two men reached the hospital lobby together and Russell chuckled.

"Well, Timir, I guess this is it..."

"What exactly is it, sir...?"

"I mean...you have to forgive me now. Look at what I did for you. Can you imagine a worse cock blocker?" He mimicked a woman: "Hey, Russell, you wanna get our jigglies on tonight, you stuuuuuud muffin, you?" He scoffed. "I'm supposed to say what, 'sorry I can't grace you with me Rusty nail, my HUSBAND asked me to pick up a few things on the way home...where I live with my HUSBAND?!' What woman's gonna jump in my bed with YOU already in it?!"

"Sir, we shan't be living together. And as for sharing a bed..." Timmy gazed down, rubbing his temple in aggravation. "Not even if the hottest woman in the world was betwixt us. Not for a million dollars. I can't think of a possible reason I'd ever-"

"You've been in my bed before!"

"Why, yes. How I've tried to forget. The night of translating intercourse dialogue between you and a woman who spoke no English was really the highlight of my professional career. Speaking of which, I really must get home as I have work in the morning..."

Timmy began to walk away, then turned back with a weak smile. "You know, the job I've recently attained in which my boss does not force me to degrade myself in every possible way imaginable. The one who doesn't try to justify forgoing the boundaries of personal autonomy by having a tracking chip implanted in me..."

"Hey, I explained that."

"There's no justifiable explanation, sir."

"I was scared!"

"Of what?! Of me possibly having any sort of life that doesn't revolve around your petty requests?"

"Of losing you!" For a moment Russell's face went serious. He looked around to see that the lobby was abandoned before he spoke. "I was scared that...that one of these times when I fucked up you'd walk away from..." Russell motioned to himself. "Walk away from this jackass and..."

Russell turned, brushing Timmy away with his hand. "Never mind, you already did. I get the score, buddy. After everything I did for you. Now I've got a half-man wheeling around leaving coffee on floors and I'm married to an ingrate turncoat, but whatever, it's a thing."

Timmy sucked in a lip. Every time Russell seemed to show a bit of character, he dropped it like a hot potato. How could Timmy tell what was sincere? At what point should he call him out?

"Sir, with all due respect...scratch that, with a mere sliver of respect, I must ask you, why do you care? I know we've been through a lot together but...beyond this marriage thing...ugh...why should I bother? What does this friendship offer either of us?"

Russell spun around. "So you admit we're friends!"

Timmy rolled his eyes, "Yes, we're friends. I hate to admit it but it's been long enough now under your torment that if I'm still even speaking to you, I suppose there's a reason. But you don't...you don't need me."

"Do you *know* me? I'm not sure I'd still be alive if not for you."

"Yes. Yes, I suppose, but... Again, a friendship is supposed to go two ways, what have you ever done for me?"

Russell stamped his feet and his arms flailed dramatically: "I MARRIED YOU!"

At this Timmy had to admit defeat. He nodded and his voice softened. "Thank you...yes, thank you for that. I mean, it's your fault I was ever in a position of needing to be married, but thanks, I suppose."

The men both went silent. They stood there, several feet apart, staring awkwardly at the ground, until two figures passed by. It was Adam and Jennifer.

"Hey, guys!" Adam was chipper and carried his usual grin. "Guess what we're about to go do?"

Russell responded, "Uhmmm...you're gonna go work on the suicide pact because you just realized the horrible mistake you've made getting married?"

Jen shook her head is disdain. "Take a look in the mirror, we're not the only couple who got married tonight." She looked to Timmy with a grin. "Good luck on the suicide!"

Timmy smiled back with a nod.

Adam gave a loud scoff. "HA! No. You guys." He sniggered and spoke softly, bashfully. "We're off to consummate the marriage!"

Russell chimed in with, "Oh, barf." Then to Jen, "Not you, the bozo. I'll consummate with you later tonight in my dreams."

Jen motioned to Timmy. "Thanks for the offer but it looks like you already have somebody to consummate with."

Adam's face went blank. "Wait...waaaait. No, not...not really, right...?"

"I'll explain later." Jennifer grabbed Adam by the hand and led him out the door.

Russell rose an eyebrow in Timmy's direction. "Well, Tim, about the consumma-"

Timmy turned to walk briskly away.

"Wait! Just a drink. I want to keep talking. I have more I need to say. Please."

Timmy rubbed the back of his neck and heaved a sigh.

"Okay. One drink."

The diner was sparse this evening.

"And that's why I don't date women with wooden legs anymore."

Russell was sipping scotch while Timmy leaned his chin on his hand, gazing blankly into nowhere.

"Did I lose you somewhere? See, what happened was-"

"I got it."

"Well, you don't seem very engaged." Russell snickered. "We kind of skipped that part." No reaction. "Get it? Engaged, because-"

Timmy perked, "Sir, I thought that's what we came here to discuss. Not your sexcapades with artificial limbs but the fact that we are now, as Jeff so eloquently put it...legally gay."

Russell downed the rest of his scotch. "Yeah, about that."

"I mean, it's insane, really...yes, the marriage has taken place, but if I'm actually going to stay in the country there's endless paperwork to file, and even then there's no guarantee. You do realize that we'll be questioned to ensure the marriage isn't a green card scam? You have to know things about me."

"I know tons about you!"

"Like what?"

"Like...uhm..." Russell rapidly searched the recesses of his mind for any boxes marked 'information about Timmy' and upon coming up blank retorted, "I know that you're super uptight, dude, it's your wedding night, live a little!"

Timmy furrowed his brow as he looked at the wine in front of him. Mmm, diner wine. Top notch stuff. He considered downing his as well but waited. It was his third glass, after all.

Upon realizing this, he noticed that Russell was getting the slightest bit tipsy. They'd been drinking now for an hour and it was more than obvious that Russell didn't want to get to the matter at hand. But his face turned thoughtful now and he fingered his glass as he spoke.

"Y'know, Timmy, I don't have a lot of people in my life."

"Sir, your life is nothing but a revolving door of people, mostly women young enough to be your love child."

"See, that's just it, it's a revolving door. And most people they get inside and they're like nope, nuh-uh, not this loser..."

"After the sex, of course."

"Of course. So, like, who do I have?"

"The Binghams and the Rhodes seem fairly cemented to you."

"Yeah, but they don't...like me. I think deep down they probably despise me. But you like me-"

"I despise you, sir."

Russell's look soured. "Think I need another scotch."

"Maybe you've had enough."

"Come on, all I've had are a couple of scotches...and the beer at the hospital...and before I got to the hospital I had a couple of-"

"Sir, you've had more than enough."

"That's the kind of back talk that I could fire you for, Timmy!"

"You can't fire me, I no longer work for you."

Their faces both dropped and there was a stiff silence. Finally, Timmy shoved his wine across the table and Russell proceeded to drink it.

With his lips to the wine glass he muttered something.

Timmy squinted, not sure he had heard correctly. "I'm sorry, what...?"

"I like you."

Timmy placed his hands down flat on the table, focusing on each finger as he considered his next move. But before he could speak, Russell continued.

"I like you a lot. I mean, probably more than I've ever liked anybody ever, I mean...you're...you're awesome, man."

"And you're drunk."

"Doesn't make it not true." Russell's eyes met with Timmy's. "If you didn't like me, you wouldn't be here."

"What are you trying to say exactly, sir?"

"Listen, you just said I'm not your boss anymore. Hell, I'm your husband, you don't have to call me sir."

"Sir-" Timmy spoke the word harshly. "If you have something to say, I wish you'd get on with it, I'm really quite tired and must be getting home." He was also getting lightheaded; he didn't drink to much excess and what he had drank was catching up with him.

The blond man child's demeanor was acting more drunk by the second; Russell's tolerance was infinitely higher than Timmy's and he'd been chain drinking scotch for the better part of this talk about nothing.

"I just want you to know that I did this to help you...because I lo- like you. You're my-my best friend. I want you. I mean, to be my friend. Man, who's in charge of the spin control in this place? How many walls are there?"

"Perhaps it's time to go home. Can you find your way home?"

"Your home?"

"No-"

"Our home?"

"No, yours. You know, where you live. By yourself. Without me."

Russell frowned and finished the wine in front of him. "Come with me?"

Timmy sighed. "Fine, but then I really must be going."

Russell was leaning heavily against Timmy by the time they reached the front door, half asleep and drunk.

"Key's in my pocket..."

Timmy hesitated slightly before reaching into Russell's front pocket. His hand tried deftly to avoid a certain bodily feature, but failed. As his hand brushed up against Russell's oddly erect member, he winced and quickly pulled out the keys.

Russell laughed sloppily. "Hey whoa Tim, how about you wine and dine me a little first, huh? At least wait until we're inside. Unless you're kinky like that, I can dig it."

Timmy ignored the drunken banter and opened the door. This wasn't the first time he had dealt with this kind of behavior, and he followed the usual beats. He walked Russell far enough to plop him flat down on the sofa and started for the door.

"Waaaait, Timmy!"

"Yes?"

"Hug."

"...What?"

"It's our wedding night," Russell slurred, standing shakily to his feet. "Can I at least get a hug?"

Timmy nodded in concession and walked back to Russell, who promptly wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. Timmy reluctantly placed his arms around Russell's back. He winced when he heard Russell begin to mildly sob.

"I love you, man."

Timmy nodded and sighed. "Yes, sir, I know."

"No, no, you dunno, you have no idea."

Timmy, feeling it time to break the embrace, began to pull away, but found himself pulled closer to Russell.

And then lips were on his neck.

Russell was kissing Timmy's neck. The shock kept him there until Russell spoke again, this time surprisingly coherent and sincere: "I love you."

With that, Timmy broke hard from Russell and without another word, walked quickly out of the apartment.

As the door closed Russell fell to his knees and proceeded to a fetal position on the floor. "Damn it...I think I fucked up..."

Timmy was on the other side of the door, eyes wide, breath heavy. What had just happened? Certainly it was a drunken tirade. In days past he'd been mockingly hit on during Russell's stupors, but never like this. He touched the spot on his neck where he had been kissed and his head spun. Why was he not more disgusted with this situation? Why was this current feeling one of confused affection? Why was his body tingling? This was all wrong. They'd had romantic physical connections before - under the guise of mistaken identity. Tonight Mr. Dunbar was drunk, but undoubtedly knew who he was talking to. He had kissed his neck and said he loved him - there weren't many ways to interpret this.

"Coffee," Timmy muttered. This wasn't worth thinking about until they were both sober. He'd go home and take some sleeping pills and put it out of his mind until morning.

Inside the apartment, Russell cried himself to sleep on the floor.

Morning was not bringing much clarity. Timmy sat on the edge of his bed, sick to his stomach. He had been staring blankly at the floor for awhile now, and only broke his gaze upon hearing the phone on the nightstand ring. He grabbed it quickly and out of some guttural instinct spoke, "Mr. Dunbar, I think we should just-"

"Timir, is that you? Have you any idea what time it is?"

It was his new boss. He looked to the clock and panicked. He should have been to work two hours ago. Damn damn damn damn.

"I deeply apologize, I'll be there as soon as possible sir, I-"

"You've been a stellar assistant so far. I'll forgive one slip, but please don't let this happen again."

"Yes, sir."

As he pressed end call, he pondered the word "sir" and how strange it suddenly felt on his lips when not directed at his previous boss. Certainly he called anybody in a position of respect "sir," but the last few years it was addressed towards him innumerous times. Brushing the thought aside, he walked to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He placed his fingers gently to his neck and felt an odd familiar tingle. He sighed a shaky breath.

"Damn it, Russell."