Julia

I took a step back, fighting back a nervous chuckle, then forced myself to stand my ground. But Freddie still noticed.

With a slight arch of his brow, he asked, "Are you all right?"

My words could only be interpreted as something naughty if I myself let on that was what I might have meant. And such things were not at all what I had meant anyway, it was a pure and honest slip of the tongue.

"Sure," I replied casually. "You were saying?"

Freddie drew ever closer. "Just one moment," he purred. "Got a light?"

So asking, he stuck another cigarette between his teeth; he must have bought more earlier that day, because during dinner he had smoked more cigs than were left in the pack I had given to him, much to the discomfort of Stuart, whose hardcore beliefs in the dangers of secondhand smoke were the chief reason I had been trying so hard in the past year to quit. I plucked a matchbook from the coffee table and almost simply handed it to him, when I thought better of it. Rather, I struck one myself- but instead of letting me light it on my own, Freddie gently seized my wrist and guided it toward his mouth, his dark eyes never leaving mine as he did so.

"Control freak," I murmured, almost too softly.

Chuckling, Freddie inhaled, making the end glow an even brighter orange, and with an oddly attractive elegance moved the cigarette away from his lips. Everything about him is dangerous to the health, I quipped to myself. He even makes smoking look sexy.

"Lovely," he sighed, smoke leaving his mouth in soft grey wisps. "Now, about the, um, sleeping arrangements tonight- I just thought I would inform you again, that the sofa is simply not an option- and neither is that big round chair of yours."

"The papasan?"

He nodded. "Yes, whatever. That's not going to happen again."

I folded my arms. "Oh, really?"

"Mm." Freddie nonchalantly strolled around me. "It's just, it seems absolutely ridiculous to me, for you to put yourself out like that when there's a way we both can be satisfied. You know what I mean?"

"I've certainly got a hunch," I murmured. "But still, I'll let you tell me just what is on your mind."

"I should think it's quite obvious, actually." He took another drag, the smirking full lips picking up where the teasing gleam in his eyes left off. Just like last night, there was no doubt what he was suggesting.

I didn't mince words. "I'm not sleeping with you, Freddie. Sorry."

With that, I patted his shoulder, nabbed my watered down drink, and made for the stairs as fast I could without breaking into a run. Need to get out of here before the storm winds start a-blowing, I said silently, for Freddie surely would never let such defiance go unpunished. But before I could cover too much ground, Freddie put his hand on my shoulder and gently turned me back around.

"Why not?" he asked, every trace of cheek vanishing. Much to my surprise, he didn't seem in the least bit angry; if anything, he was merely confused.

I squinted. "Do you really need me to explain?"

"Oh, do." He perched himself on the arm of the sofa and crossed his legs. "This ought to be good."

I just shook my head. "Okay, first of all-"

"Hold on." He held up his hand, frowning. "Wait, you- you think this is about sex, don't you?"

I blinked. "Well... I mean, can you blame me?"

Freddie let out a little frustrated huff. "Darling, I thought we'd already discussed this. That was ages ago. I've moved on, and so have you. Wouldn't you say?"

"Exactly," I agreed. "Which is why I don't understand why you keep pushing for us to sleep together."

"It's really not all that big a mystery, dear. I just hate sleeping alone."

You didn't have any trouble doing it last night- or for most of the two weeks we were together, I countered silently. What's different now?

Freddie looked down at his lap, waving his hand around, speaking with a self-deprecating half-smile that faded into something a bit more melancholy as he continued. "I know it sounds, you know, sort of pathetic, but that's basically what it is. It's just- lying in an empty bed- it's such a lonely feeling, and... I'm not- I've spent enough time, um- feeling that way as it is, and, uh..."

He cut himself off abruptly. "Oh, f---, I don't have to tell you. You know me." Freddie looked up at me with an expression I couldn't quite place. "You know everything about me."

"I know enough," I replied simply, afraid of where Freddie intended to carry this. "Including that you're certainly- you're not lonely anymore, right?"

Freddie blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, as far as where you come from, if I'm not mistaken, and I could be, but where you are right now in your life- you're not alone." I took great care not to mention Jim Hutton by name; Freddie had become so strangely angry when I spoke of him the night before.

He took a drag. "My dear, being alone and being lonely are not the same thing."

I nodded. "True."

"Which are you?"

"What?"

"Are you alone, or lonely?"

"Neither," I answered.

Freddie looked me over, almost like he didn't believe me. "You're very lucky, then." After a moment he asked, "Aren't you going to ask me which one I am?"

I knew Freddie missed home; there wasn't one reason why he should not have. So I expected a little bit of reserve, a certain reticence about the people and things that were waiting for him on the other side of Speck's bridge. But this conversation was taking an unexpectedly cryptic turn, and I wasn't prepared- nor did I, at this time, really want to know where it promised to end up. Ten years ago, I would have leapt at such words, eyes and ears peeled for whatever I chose to read between the lines. I would have pressed the issue, dug as deeply as I could, come just within reach of seeming downright intrusive, all to know what it was he really meant. But here, now, I was only interested in keeping the peace.

So I shook my head. "No."

"Why not?"

"It's none of my business. If you want to tell me, tell me- but I won't ask."

"Mm," he sighed thoughtfully. "Just like always."

However, Freddie didn't give me a chance to let that sink in; he started my way and changed the subject. "So, tell me again, with all that in mind, knowing that sex is really the furthest thing from both our minds- what's so wrong with two old friends sharing a bed and keeping each other warm on a cold, cold night?"

I could already feel myself weakening. "I like the way you crafted that."

"Hm?"

"That silver tongue of yours. You could make cold-blooded murder sound like an innocent pastime, if you wanted to."

"Look, I'm not trying to sell it to you or anything-" Suddenly he snapped his fingers, eyes wide with a new idea.

"Right, how about this," Freddie exclaimed. "We'll call it a test!"

"A test?" I repeated, gradually drifting up the stairs.

"Why not?" Freddie followed me, still talking. "I mean, you like tests, and uh, experiments, anyway. So-"

"What in the world would we possibly be trying to prove?" I asked.

"Why, that there's nothing there anymore, of course. Not that I'm not convinced; I was only thinking of someone else."

Danny had apparently not put Farnsworth to bed yet; upon reaching the second floor, we found a bored little conure flying around the kitchen, clicking and squawking. Before I could ask who Freddie thought needed convincing, the bird caught sight of us and swooped over to land on my head.

"Bird," Farnsie announced matter-of-factly, his little talons prickling my scalp.

Freddie smiled and held out his hand. "Mind if I see him?"

"Go right ahead." So saying, I took the bird off my head and tried to make him step onto Freddie's finger ("There's a pretty boy," Freddie cooed softly), but Farnsie would have none of it, climbing back up my sleeve and hiding as best he could in my still pinned up hair.

"Farnsworth! Where are your manners?" I chided him. To Freddie I apologized, "Sorry, he's a bit picky about people he doesn't know well. Once he gets used to you, though, watch out. You won't be able to keep him off your head."

"It's all right, really; maybe he knows about the cats," Freddie joked.

"Could be," I agreed. Could also be the licorice; he's kind of got a sensitive nose, I said to myself, although Stuart doesn't smell like licorice, and even after three plus years, Farnsie still won't so much as sit on his finger. I guess it's a matter of taste.

"Now, before this little squab decided to interrupt, who's the one needing convincing again?"

"The one and only assho- I mean, Stanley Preus."

Stifling a chuckle, I decided to give up on correcting him; clearly there was no way Freddie was ever going to intentionally call Stuart by his actual name. "What's he got to do with it?"

"Just this. He's suspicious, naturally. So let's lay those doubts to rest, prove to him just how over each other we are."

I blinked. "By sleeping together."

"Right!"

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Freddie Logic.

"There's nothing wrong with sleeping next to someone, and that's all we'd be doing," he went on. "It's the sex part that makes people squirm, and I can do without for a while."

"That's all well and fine, but- that's not even my main concern."

Freddie cocked his head. "So then, what is?"

I peered down the hall, made sure of no prying eyes or ears, then whispered, "Danny. He's never seen me in bed with a man-"

"Never?" Freddie looked shocked. "So you're telling me that you haven't even, um-"

"Stuart and I have never slept together," I confirmed, which was true; in my whole life I had slept with one man, and one man only- a fact I chose not to share with that selfsame fellow. "And I've always told Danny how important it is that- well, anyway. My point is, that may not be the best thing for Danny to see his mom doing, sleeping with a strange man, regardless of whether there's any sex involved."

He waved his hand dismissively. "That's easy. Just tell him that, uh- tell him that I have terrible nightmares, and only you can ward them off."

I had to laugh. "You know, that's so silly it might actually work."

"I hope so; it's the truth."

"Mm-hm," I hummed skeptically. "Right."

His brows rose. "So is that a yes?"

"You are unbelievable, you know that?"

"Of course. So is it?"

I rubbed my eyes, tired of debating with him. True, Freddie had changed in many drastic ways, but he was no less persistent than I remembered. And unlike when I would find myself arguing with Danny, I couldn't pull rank as his mother and claim the victory. Once again, he had worn me down.

So I sighed, smiled, and surrendered. "Okay. Yes. We'll try it."

Freddie's lips split into a grin. "Perfect!" he cried, grabbing me round the waist and hugging me tight, making Farnsworth fall off and sending him on another airborne rampage.

"But listen," I added, wiggling out of Freddie's grasp, "no funny business! All right?"

He rolled his eyes. "Darling, really-"

"All right?"

"Fine, fine, you have my word," he promised.

"And if Stuart finds out, and you give him any reason for doubt, I am coming after you so fast-"

"Yes, yes, yes, that's fine, whatever," he sang, prancing toward the hall. "Now, what side of the bed do you sleep on again, darling?"

Before I could answer, he vanished, presumably to dress for bed, reminiscent of how Danny would just "innocently" flutter out of earshot as soon as he had gotten his way.

I went downstairs to put Farnsie back in his cage and cover him up for the night, muttering to myself about how "I must be out of my head" and "Deja frickin' vu." But I couldn't go back on this now, anymore than I could with Danny.

I let Fry out one more time, and looked around the room while I waited for him to finish. "Tomorrow, we are decorating you," I said to the undressed Christmas tree. "I know I've said it before, but I mean it this time."

After the little dachshund bounded back in and shook off the cold, he padded along at my heels all the way upstairs until finally he broke away and hurried off to Danny's room. I found my bedroom empty, -to my surprise, as I had thought that was where Freddie had headed. So I peered back down the hall to see Freddie standing quietly with his back to me, watching the boy sleep. Just for a moment, I questioned what was going through his mind.

I wonder if he suspects, I mused. Wonder if he feels it, somehow.

I still felt apprehensive about telling Freddie he was the reason that Danny even existed, especially after I had implied yesterday that he was not in fact the father. Besides, what would it have mattered were I to tell him at all? It was a fifty-fifty shot of Freddie either celebrating the news, or recoiling from it- and C, K, and the gang would only crebinate that knowledge as soon as it was planted anyway.

All the same, it still completely boggled my mind whenever I thought about it.

Danny was ours. Not just mine. Freddie's and mine.

God made two of them, I realized. Good grief. And I used to think just one was a handful. Now I have them both at the same time.

Freddie must have felt the pressure of my gaze; I saw his head turn slightly, but I moved back into the bedroom before he caught me watching him, kicking my shoes into the air, peeling my stockings off, and letting my hair fall down about my shoulders. I sighed with a smile, wiggling my bare toes deep into the shag rug. Now I felt relaxed.

I got ready for bed as quickly as I could. The sooner I could dive under the covers and settle in, the better. Somehow the idea of Freddie and I slipping between the sheets simultaneously just seemed fraught with peril.

Having removed my makeup and brushed my teeth, I stripped to my underwear, pausing just a moment to look myself over. I ran my hands over my body, grimacing at the places I wasn't pleased with. True, I was still able to fit into the same size clothes that I wore in my first semesters of college, but personally I could have done without the white roots, the one remaining stretch mark along my left side, and the raised, jagged scar down my right arm. Really, though, I wasn't in bad shape for thirty, if I did say so myself. Not bad at all.

My eyes fell upon the long gold chain round my neck, and what hung from the end of it. My eyes narrowed. Okay, yes, I'm going to have to hide that.

"What for?" I suddenly asked myself. He's not going to see it- any more than he's going to see any of the rest of me. So why am I even inspecting myself like this- as though I intend to put myself on display?

I chose not to think about that question- but I did pull off the necklace and push it to the back of the medicine cabinet, hiding it behind my happy pills and contact solution. With no more dilly-dallying in front of the mirror, I threw on some modest pajamas and flung open the door to see Freddie standing there, about to knock. We both jumped.

"Good Lord, you scared the bejesus out of me," I gasped, clutching my heart.

Freddie didn't respond right away. All he did was look at me for a few seconds, before saying softly, "That's better."

I blinked. "What is?"

"Your hair's down." He reached over and took a lock of my hair between his fingers. "Now you look like you."

I shrugged. "Stuart likes it when it's out of my face," I told him pointlessly.

All Freddie did was nod, and ask if he now could take his turn. I stepped out of his way. As the door closed, however, I thought to myself, Man, why didn't I just say "Thank you"?

Slipping into bed, I set an alarm for the next morning, then checked my phone one last time to find a text message from Stuart. "Thanks for the delicious dinner, Jules- and for putting up with me," it said. "If I messed the night up for you and Danny, I am very sorry. Even if I didn't, I know I still wasn't exactly Mr. Wonderful tonight. That won't happen again."

With a little smile, I tapped back, "Apology accepted. Everything is fine. I'm still glad I got to see you tonight. Now sleep well. YOU work too hard. ;)"

The response came in almost a second later. "I'm so glad," he said, adding a little smiling emoji. "See you tomorrow I hope. Love you!"

While I was tapping in a returned "I love you," however, one more message flew across the microwaves, a message which strangely made finishing my own a bit harder to do:

"Also, just out of curiosity, what was B-13's lover's name? The one he's with now, I mean."

I bit my lip and took a deep breath, trying to make myself feel grateful to be reminded, especially now when I was about go to sleep beside him. But I couldn't shake the sick feeling I suddenly had upon reading that question. Still after a moment or two, I found it within myself to send back an answer.

"Jim Hutton," I replied. "And I love you too. Good night."

I shut my phone off, muttering aloud, "You don't have to remind me, Stu. I know. I know it well. Really unnecessary, I assure you."

"Hm?" Freddie opened the door and shut off the bathroom light. "You said something?"

"No," I sighed, turning to face him. "Just talking to mys- oh."

The man came around to his side of the bed. "What?"

I shook my head quickly. "Nothing, I just- I wasn't expecting to see you come out like that."

Freddie was naked to the waist, clad in a pair of drawstring pajama pants. Even with my fuzzy vision, I could see that the arms were nicely toned, and the chest, while not the most robust, looked fit and healthy.

"What of it?" he cooed. "This doesn't make you uncomfortable, I hope?"

"Not in the least," I lied. "I'm just afraid you'll be cold, is all."

"Don't worry, dear," he purred, drawing back the covers. "If I get too cold, I'll just move in closer to you- like this." With that, he slid into bed and nestled so close against me that were he any nearer, he would have been spooning me.

"What am I going to do with you?" I sighed.

He ignored me. "Hmm. Yes, that's quite nice. Turn out the light, will you?"

"No funny business," I murmured one more time.

"Darling, don't be so paranoid," he whispered. "I already promised there would be none. Take it or leave it."

"All right, all right," I whispered. "Let's give this a go. Good night, Freddie."

"Good night, Julia."

I turned off the lamp, engulfing the room in darkness. Freddie's warm body lay hardly any distance apart from mine, our soft, measured breathing the only sounds. I should have been trying to go to sleep, for I was pretty tired from the day's festivities. But something seemed to be missing, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

From out of nowhere, the lyrics to "Tiny Dancer" popped back into my head, and my mind started wandering back toward Sir Elton John. The world had certainly missed him since his passing (Sharon had passed away some time before this- but to tell you exactly when would be quite morbid), and I wondered what Freddie would do once he finally decided to start digging, finding out what had become of his compadres and colleagues. Sharon was such a character; he was among the handful of Freddie's friends that I had met in 1977, and one of the even fewer that had chosen to accept me.

"Hey, Freddie?" I murmured. "You still awake?"

"Mmm-hm," he sighed softly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just was thinking about - how is Sharon these days?"

"Oh, Elton?" Freddie's voice cleared up, became a little teasing. "What brought this on?"

"I don't know, I was just thinking."

"Sharon's great, as far as I know. He got married about a year ago, I think- 1984, you know, not, uh, 2020-something-"

I rolled over and faced him. "Elton got married?"

"I know, I was pretty stunned myself."

"To a woman?"

Even in the dark, I could see the confusion in his eyes. "Well, yeah, obviously."

Freddie, have you got a lot of history to learn, I quipped inwardly. "How did that happen?"

"Apparently, he wanted children, so he got married. Crazy, isn't it?"

"I'll say," I breathed. "Who is she?"

"I don't know, I still haven't been formally introduced- maybe he thinks I'll be a bad example for the nippers when they come round," he laughed. "Then again, Mack trusts me with his kids, so I can't be all bad."

I sat up against the headboard, rapidly losing interest in sleep. "Which one are you godfather to again?"

"The one they named after me. John Frederick. He goes by Freddie, and he's such a- hold on," Freddie stopped, looking up at me, studying my position. "Are we intending to keep this up for a while, or is this just a little five-minute chat we're having before the sleepies take us over?"

The words flew from my lips before I realized what I was saying: "I can go as long as you can, my friend."

Freddie's lips curved into a sweet, almost nostalgic smile, and his eyes seemed to sparkle for a brief second, before he cleared his throat and said in a more businesslike tone, "Well, then, mind if I smoke?"

"Just don't get any ash on the covers, that's all I ask," I said. "There's a lighter in the nightstand drawer. The first one, not the second one," I put in quickly.

"What's in the second drawer?" he asked slyly.

I answered in all honesty, "That's where I keep the gun."

Freddie just looked at me a moment. "Then I'll be sure not to make that mistake," he replied, tossing me a wink. "Where were we?"

And so, for the next length of time, we just laid there and talked, and talked, and talked some more, at last feeling just like two long-lost friends. We didn't discuss everything, and we steered very clear of talks of "us," but that still left so much room for practically everything else. After all, he had eight whole years to explain, and I had forty-two years with which to tantalize him. By the time our tongues were too tired to go on, it was well past midnight, and we finally gave in to sleep.

I don't know how long Freddie took to drift off, but I slipped away almost immediately- albeit not a second before I had the strangest feeling that something slowly wrapped tightly round my waist and held on, and something soft and a little moist gently pressed against my shoulder very briefly before pulling away...

But it was more than likely just my imagination.