Title: A Rose In December 1/12

Pairing: Candy

Rating: NC17

Summary: Written in first POV Cody and Randy are best friends living on an old farm just trying to get by after Cody's business fails and leaves Randy facing deportation from the country. After failing to get an extension to stay Randy resorts to desperate measures and Cody doesn't know it but he's about to get the surprise of his life!

Note: Written for Kayleigh who is beyond awesome for waiting so long for this fic! You're amazing hun! Thank you so much for all your help and for this lovely idea! I hope you like it! :D

A/N: I changed the laws a bit to fit this story. I can't exactly give away how yet but by the end the chapter you'll see what I mean and, just go with it lol okay? Be nice and play along :P

I'm sitting in a very uncomfortable chair in a very uncomfortable mild yellow waiting room that I have no business being in. Actually, we have no business being here but as fate would have it my best friend isn't exactly a legal citizen of the United States and this is just another appointment to determine how much longer he gets to stay in the country. He filed an extention to last until the end of the year so once that's accomplished we'll go from there and work on getting him another work visa, since the one I previously provided for him is no longer valid.

I shift about anxiously in the very uncomfortable short brown armless chair beside my best friend Randy, checking the time yet again. 2:17. Exactly two minutes since I'd last checked. Damn. Why does this shit always take so fucking long? We made the appointment for 12:30 so why the fuck are we still sitting in this god awful waiting room? I haven't seen anyone come in or out of the office since we arrived so...What's the hold up? The hell if I know, it's always like this when we come here. Well, the few times I've been here anyway. Randy normally goes by himself but this time he asked me to join him so I tagged along and I'm just as nervous and anxious as ever. Because, I fucking hate the immigration office.

I hate that these bastards put my friend through this all the time and I hate that eventually one day they will take him away from me. How I manage to be civil and well-mannered here I don't know but some how I manage and today is no different. I'm very quiet, because as the saying goes if you don't have anything nice to say then, don't say anything at all. Randy is quiet too, although he's been reading a magazine, some how capable of concentrating enough to read it thoroughly. But that's Randy. He's cool, calm and collected while I'm silently freaking out and trying my best not to fidget like crazy in my seat.

It's cold in here. And ugly. The yellow really throws me off and clashes with the strange swirls of purple and orange paintings framed in silver and hung along the walls. I don't know who decorated this place but they should be beaten with the same ugly stick they used to create this eyesore. Or given a raise if this was an improvement from the other immigration offices Randy had been forced to sit in. I've only been to this one but Randy says some of them are pretty bad and that, at least this one has color. But that's Randy though, always looking on the bright side of things and seeing that proverbial glass half full.

"Mr. Rhodes and Mr. Orton?" A firm, but distinctly female voice calls our names for the first time since we arrived and we both look towards the small window before us and see the familiar found face of the receptionist peeking out behind it, "Mr. Springfield will be ready to see you in a few minutes." And just like that the door closes and she's gone.

I sigh impatiently, stretching the ache out of my legs as I lean back in the already uncomfortable chair. Great. This should be fun. More waiting. And then the fun really begins when I get to sit in the same room with my bestfriend and watch as some asshole that doesn't even know him fills out the paperwork to have him sent back "home".

Home my ass. Randy was born in Canada only because his parents were snowed in on vacation and his mother went into premature labor! Otherwise he'd have been born in the States and we wouldn't be doing this right now! We'd be at home playing Xbox like we wanted to be! Well, like I wanted to be. Randy would rather be working on tuning up his bike or jeep, which ever needed it more. Probably his jeep since he went mudding yesterday.

I can't help but smile as I glance at my friend beside me. The mudding isn't something I really get into but Randy get's a kick out of romping threw the mud in his jeep after every storm that washes the ground enough to get his it covered in the most mud possible. He loves it. His jeep is red when he leaves but when he comes back it's a faded brown, caked from top to bottom in mud and he's more than happy to wash it down. I really don't get it, why make such a huge mess? Seems silly to me and Randy's tried to explain it to me but I never listened enough to remember what he said because I just can't see beyond the massive amounts of mud dripping from his jeep after he pulls into the driveway.

He likes the mess I guess. Which might explain why and how he's able to put up with me for as long as he has. He likes a mess and something about my mess works for him because he's been my best friend for over five years and even though my business went under he stayed by my side the entire time to help see me through the toughest year of my life. I would have starved to death that first winter after I lost my horses had it not been for Randy and his generosity. Granted I had to let him move in to my house and give him an equal say around my home but he was respectful enough and since he went out and found himself some under the table work in town I couldn't really complain. Not that I want to, Randy's a great friend and a lot of fun, almost like a big brother would be. I have one, a brother, but he moved away years ago when I was just a kid and after our parents passed on we just never really kept in touch. And he sure as hell didn't come to help when I lost my business last year. But Randy did. He came and stayed and hasn't left since.

We're lucky to be such good friends, ones that are very close and there's no bullshit. I stay home and try to rebuild my ranch after the floods and Randy goes into town to help me pay the bills. We make it work. Actually, Randy makes it work. I, on the other hand, might be completely lost without his help.

I can't say how much longer that's going to last though. Not just because he's facing deportation but, eventually Randy will marry and move on so I should start getting used to the idea of him leaving anyway right?

Actually, he's seeing someone right now. A pretty little thing by the name of Samantha who just happens to be from Canada herself but she's here for college and when she's done she's home bound. She cute and a nice girl and she doesn't help Randy's current situation but if he married her then he would have to leave and I'll have to say goodbye to him anyway...So...Maybe I should just get used to the idea? Maybe I shouldn't be so selfish and let my friend go live his life like he deserves instead of guilting him into sticking around this shit-hole and taking care of my sorry ass?

I close my eyes to chase these thoughts away for what must have been the tenth time that morning and take a slow, quiet, deep breath. I hate this fucking placing. It's ugly and small and cruel and only a sadistic reminder that this is really all my fault. Us being here is all on me. Because if my business hadn't failed over a year ago Randy would still have his work visa and we'd be alright and my best friend wouldn't be facing deportation. That and if my business hadn't failed I'd be rich and then I could throw my money at the lawyers from the immigration office to make them go away. You know, money talks, bullshit walks. This wouldn't even be an issue if we just, had money.

Unfortunately though, I'm broke. Randy's broke too but I'm really broke like, almost lost my home and had to sell all of my horses type of broke...Sad, I know. But I would be alright if those fucking assholes hadn't poisoned my Champions. My beautiful, fast, perfect Champions that were about to win the big race. I lost all three in one night. And then the flood came...

I shiver with rage that suddenly surges from my gut but quickly shove it down and pry my eyes open to bring me back to the room and out of my thoughts. No. Never mind the past right now. I don't need to let myself think about it. Especially now when I'm facing losing my best friend. The last thing I need to is re-live the fall of my business that I spent my entire life working to build.

"Gentlemen, Mr. Springfield is ready to see you now." Fan-fucking-tastic!
"You ready?" Randy nudges me with his elbow and I nod even though I want to say no. Because I'm never ready for these things. Granted this is my first time actually going into Mr. Springfield's office I'm still not ready to meet that asshole who's trying to take my friend away from me...

Randy stands and I slowly join him, biting back a sigh and try to suck it up because this wasn't about me, this was about Randy and I needed to be out of my head for this. I needed to pay attention to what was about to happen to my best friend. I follow him, swallowing hard and how he's so damn calm right now I don't know but he walks with a purpose down a short familiar hallway to Mr. Springfield's office and opens a tall dark wooden door at the end, standing aside to let me inside first. How thoughtful. Fucking dick.

"Afternoon, Mr. Springfield." Randy greets a short, balding but other wise gray haired man perched tight behind a desk that was covered in tall stacks of papers and files neatly organized and marked with various colored notes ticking out from pages here and there. Mr. Springfield was organized. Thorough, and organized. Not a good sign. Mr. Springfield is short, I can tell by he height of his chair that's propped up on it's highest setting, barley putting the desk at his stomach. He's wearing a suit, some faded ugly brown and white shirt thing and round black glasses that are too small for his face. Hideous. Although I didn't dress up I look better in my black jeans and white undershirt than he does in that brown mess. Randy, on the other hand, was dressed in long black slacks and a charcoal gray button down shirt and a light black fitting jacket. He was dressed to impress. Too bad it probably wasn't working.

"Afternoon, boys. Have a seat." Boys? Man, fuck this old bastard. I'm a man of twenty four thank you very much! And Randy's twenty eight! How is he a boy?-! God I'm here for two seconds and already I hate this fucking prick. Because, boys? Fuck him. And fuck his awful office too. This place is just so damn unpleasant. And Mr. Springfield does not look like a nice guy and I'm assuming here but, I'd say that's because he's NOT a nice guy. In his line of work of sending people away he probably can't be the most pleasant person in the world so I imagine he takes quite a lot of grief and anger from the people he's "helping". Especially when they've run out of options or extensions while that old bastard sits there and smiles behind his cramped, icky little desk. Honestly his office is too big for what he does, even though he's tucked tight behind a small brown desk that's just covered in paperwork. A filing cabinet or two wouldn't hurt. But, I'll keep that to myself. Because I'm not here to fuck around with this asshole's ugly ass yellow office, I'm here to try and save my friend from deportation. If I can.

Randy sits comfortably in a small short backed black chair before Mr. Springfield's desk but I'm a bit slower about it, looking about anxiously because I hate this place. My heart is racing, my palms sweating and my stomach churning. I'm a fucking mess. And how Randy can just walk in and sit down like he did I don't know, I mean, I want to deck Mr. Springfield and we've only just met so I can only imagine the disgust Randy must feel towards the miserable old man trying to send him "home".

I glare at Mr. Springfield behind his desk because I can't help it. The fucker! Get a life and leave my friend the fuck alone! Go chase after some prison rat and leave my hardworking, goodhearted best friend ALONE!-!

"It's a good thing you came to see me, Mr. Orton." Mr. Springfield says in a deep, old, southern voice but doesn't even bother to look up from the file he's writing in and it makes me hate him that much more. Fucking prick doesn't even have the decency to look at us as he signs my friends life away! "Your latest application for an extension has been denied, you're set for deportation at the end of the month."

My jaw drops as I fall into a chair beside Randy before Mr. Springfield's desk and almost throw up as my stomach flips. Fuck! No!-! That's not fair I thought Randy had until the end of year left at least! Not that he'd be gone as early as the end of the month! I look at my best friend, my heart pounding and my head reeling. But he looks calm, his face drawn into a relaxed, content expression with a confident smile that brightens his eyes and suddenly I think I might have missed something. I search his eyes that are focused solely on the rude, impossible troll before us and they tell me nothing.

I frown hard and my panic doesn't lessen but I'm definitely confused. How can he be so god damn calm?-! He's was about to get deported! This wasn't temporary! It was fucking permanent, didn't that mean anything to him?-!

"Why?" Randy asks, still fucking smiling, "I thought you said we had a good chance with an extension?"
Mr. Springfield nods quickly, "I thought we did but times are tough right now, you know. The government is having a hard time finding work for it's own citizens so more and more applications and extensions are being denied, especially if the applicant is not already employed. I believe I warned you that this was also a possibility, Mr. Orton."

"You did but that's bullshit, how could I be employed if I'm not a legal citizen? You people make it damn near impossible."
"No, you failed to maintain a job when you had a visa and therefore you had to file for an extension that was denied. It's not impossible, it's just difficult but doable if the applicant is willing to do the work."

I have to look away and to hide a hard flinch. Great. This is MY fault. Randy didn't fail. I did. And now he's being punished for it...

"So, my extension was denied and that leaves me where, Mr. Springfield?"
The older man behind the cramped desk looks up from his work, finding Randy over his glasses, "What do you think, son?" He asks lightly although I could swear there's a hint of satisfaction in his old man voice that Randy must not hear because he's still cool, calm, collected. But I hear it.
"Pack your bags." Mr. Springfield adds and my gut wrenches as his old face brightens, his lips twitching at the sides as if he's fighting a smile. "You're heading home at the end of the month. Once I finish your papers you should receive a plane ticket in the mail...Unless you have found an employer that's willing to take you on and apply for your new visa?-?"

I shake my head in disgust. Shit. That son of a bitch! He fucking knows we don't have anyone to turn to about this! That's why we're fucking here! I put my face in my hands to breathe because I can't fucking stand to look anywhere anymore. I hide in my palms. I can't stand to see anything but darkness because that's what's closing over us anyway! A horrible, frigid, evil darkness that's going to take everything good in our lives away when it comes! Shit shit SHIT! God, fuck, NO! This is not happening!

"No but, actually, Mr. Springfield, I don't think that this is going to be a problem anymore." Randy says and surprised me enough to make my hands jerk down to my lap. It's not going to be a problem?-! Since when?-! I raise a brow, more than curious as I find my friends vibrant blue eyes silently begging me to keep quiet. Randy's up to something, I can feel it and he's silently begging me to play along so I do. I keep quiet, lowering my gaze to my hands that are suddenly clasped together in my lap. I'm here to help Randy, not hurt his chances, I need to remember that.

"In fact, I know this will take care of my whole deportation problem." Randy adds and the confidence in his voice makes my nerves start to shake. What in the hell is he up to?-!
"Oh?" Mr. Springfield looked up from the mass of paperwork, eying Randy skeptically over the frames of his glasses and he has every right to be skeptic because Randy's exhausted every option and every extension he had. "You do?-?"
"Well, see, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." Randy replies calmly, leaning back in his chair and I frown at him as he lifts his arm as if he means to put it around me and he does, pulling me towards him by my shoulders and I almost fall from my seat.

I glare at him as I catch myself, bracing my hand on his leg to keep from falling over into his lap. Fuck man, what's this about?-! I'm all for hugging my friends but, now's not really a good time, Randy! I glare a him harder as he tightens his strong arm around my shoulder and pulls me even closer so that there's hardly any space between us. What the fuck?-!

"I know it's not conventional and that you'll have a ton of red tape but," Randy paused, starring at me with a wide, confident smile until I take the hint and smile back, but only a little. What in the hell is Randy doing? He looks away and I know I should follow his gaze back to Mr. Springfield but I can't. He's up to something, I know my friend, he's plotting something and without telling me I'm somehow involved. Good thing I can read him well enough to know when to play along...

"Mr. Springfield," Randy said through a shaky breath, his smile faltering with his nerves and if he doesn't get to his fucking point and let me the fuck go I'm going to poke his sorry ass in the eye.

Randy glances at me, then at Mr. Springfield and then back at me where he stays. "This is my fiance. Cody."

WHAT?-!-?-!

TBC