Three days, two separate funerals, and one emotional Man all in the span of a week was enough to drive anyone batshit crazy. The two relatives were two years apart in age, died on the same day about three hours apart, and caused the Universal Overlord to go into shutdown mode. He barely slept, tried to eat, couldn't work, couldn't move. To top things off, he had to visit his parents in order to get to both funerals, and his family was hosting the one for the dead relative he was closer to. 

Andrew Detmer never wanted to hear a Catholic funeral service again in his life, until the Man stood up, walked to the podium and said 

"A Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah: On this mountain the Lord of hosts will provide for all peoples. On this mountain he will destroy the veil that veils all peoples, the web that is woven over all nations. He will destroy death forever. The Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces; the reproach of his people he will remove from the whole earthfor the Lord has spoken. On that day it will be said: 'Indeed, this is our God; we looked to him, and he saved us! This is the Lord to whom we looked; let us rejoice and be glad that he has saved us!' The word of the Lord." Now neither Man believed in the so-called God most people did, but the Man did believe in a God. He believed in Andrew Detmer, his God who had saved his life and given him a new purpose, a new direction. Andrew believed in his Man, watching his every word, in awe of what he could do when given the chance. He saw a strong independent man stand up for his beliefs amongst the crowd of conformers, saw him destroy their 'divine' words with his own, and watched him defy the odds in the most stunning bright white suit he'd ever seen. You didn't really wear white to a funeral, but the Man was gutsy and tired and didn't want all of his very pissed off relatives to think he liked them. That first funeral was hell, the cold wind nearly causing the Man to fall on the ground due to his shivering. Andrew kept him steady, watching him chant in his native language under his breath, joining in when he felt he could. 

Two days down. One to go. 

Anyone would figure this one day would have been easier, the hard part surely must be over, but no, that was not the case here. The day after the first funeral which was also the day before he had to leave home to attend the second, the Man caught a cold. He blamed it on the graveyard, but he was downright miserable and at one point thought of not attending the second service at all. Andrew watched as he sat miserably on the couch and writhed in agony every time he tried to breathe. He was quick to rush over and comfort his fiance, giving him a kiss and urging him to get Tylenol instead of watching Helluva Boss and Arrow all day long. His Man was so strong, and so, so stubborn he couldn't believe it. Sick with a sore throat, drainage, headaches, runny nose, and barely a voice, he left for the next funeral the day after he started to feel sick, taking the two hour drive to a restaurant to meet his other side of the family, get drunk, and crash at a very nice room in a Hampton Inn on the top floor. 

You could say he was a mess, but that was an understatement. At 9:00 he was curled under his covers gasping for air, holding onto Andrew's hand while Andrew whispered sweet nothings and twirled his fingers in his lover's hair. Andrew was officially lovesick, head over heels for this wack job who barely even had a job. The Man was just sick, using up all the tissues he brought and spit vomiting into a trash can around every ten minutes to avoid drainage in his throat. They were an unlikely pair, the horoscopes hated them together, but they made it work, and it worked well. The Man cuddled into his lover's arms and turned off the lights, watching the moon through the window blinds and holding each other's hands as they fell asleep. 

The Man never had very good habits. He woke up early, took a shower, ate breakfast early, avoided his disgusting cousin who actually seemed to flirt with him (because incestuous cousins were a common occurrence at Oscorp), drank two cans of Coke at the funeral home, and cried like a baby over a dead man he'd only met twice. In his defense, the speeches were way too heartwarming and it made him feel peaceful for once. He wore his usual all black to the funeral, Andrew forced to wear one of Steve's suits to look nice. Once again, Andrew admired his stupidity, his beautiful stupidity that somehow made him look like a pissed off rich kid just blowing off steam and breaking every rule he could find. By the end of it all, he could barely speak, his voice sore and his mind content, driving home, but stopping on the way for a drink and some food, neither of which helped his condition. 

Andrew couldn't help but wonder how this hot mess of a man was so perfect in every way. 

After all, he still made it seem on the outside like he was never falling apart inside despite the thousands of stupid things he said and did.