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Quoting Elvis

Guy sighed quietly as he turned the key in the lock. Home at last. His working days were long and stressful, but he supposed that anyone dealing in direct customer service had the same complaints. He didn't like to think about all the long, lonely months that he'd stumbled home in the rising dusk, having worked late once again because... Well, because there just wasn't anything--or anyone to go home to.

It was different now that he'd found someone. Actually, he'd found the one--Dude. Ah, Dude. He of the beatnik wardrobe, funky Elvis Costello glasses, and every cheerful chirp. Yes, occasionally Guy did get the urge to say, a bit more forcefully than necessary, "Yes, I heard you!" But this was what love was, wasn't it? Adjusting to your lover's foibles. Lord knows he had his own eccentricities. He was asked on a regular basis if he was related to Sergeant Joe Friday (he was never sure if this was due to his choice of clothing, or his even, soothing speaking voice).

For the longest time, though, neither of them had been sure that they'd found their safe haven. Yes, they loved each other--there was never any doubt of that--but would it be enough? Their careers were so diametrically opposed. Dude had remarked that it was akin to Ronald McDonald having an affair with Jack, from the Box. Society would simply look askance. But finally staying apart had been too much. They'd consulted several lawyers, and were assured that there was nothing in their individual contracts that could be used against them.

They had quietly moved in together, choosing a big city in New England--one where people minded their own business. From there on in they had taken the military stance--don't ask, don't tell. Both had filed change of address with their employers--neither had mentioned that they were taking a roommate.

Since then, Guy had experienced the nearest thing to total bliss he ever had--well, if you didn't count being able to solve a problem for one of his customers. That grateful, enlightened look on their face was always a real boost.

But for the last few weeks, things hadn't been quite as serene as they might have been. There had been an upsurge of work for both of them. Sprint was introducing new low cost calling hours, and he had to go around, speaking to high-cosumption groups. Verizon had suddenly decided to have Dude test the efficience of their equipment and system on public transports, and he was having to travel even more. They were seldom at home at the same time, and when they were, each was too tired to do much of anything. Talking seemed like too much effort (given the fact that both of them had to do so much of it in their work), and even snuggling had fallen by the wayside. Forget about sex. Actually--that was the problem. They did seem to have forgotten about sex.

Of course, a few recent incidents hadn't helped the situation, but Guy was trying to work through the feeling of insecurity that had been raised by one particular incident. He knew that they'd have to talk about it, but not now--later, when they had more time together.

He was expecting Dude to be there to greet him. After all, he knew that he had returned home this morning. Surely he'd have been well rested by now, and ready for some quality time? But when Guy entered the house, it was dark, and silent.

He started to call out, but hesitated. There was nothing that made you feel quite as foolish as calling out for someone in an empty house. He locked the door and emptied the several Sprint phones he normally caried out of his pockets, locking them in the hall cabinet. That was a pact they'd made--no products from either of their jobs were to intrude on this oasis of harmony. He knew that Dude had to be home, because his Verizon phone was already there.

Guy made his way through the house, checking methodically. There was no one downstairs. He found Dude in their bedroom. He was stretched out on their bed, fully clothed, on his belly. His arms were crossed, and his chin was propped on them. He was staring at the headboard. Guy paused in the doorway, waiting to be acknowledged. Nothing. The moments stretched out. *He's angry about something,* Guy thought in surprise. *He knows I'm here, and he's ignoring me.*

Guy went and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out, laying his hand on his lover's back, and was shocked at how tense he was. "Babe? What's wrong?" There was a cool silence. Guy shook his shoulder gently. "Talk to me. What's happened?"

"How was work?"

Guy blinked at his chilly tone. "Hectic, as usual. They're promoting the new extended low rate calling hours, and it's like they want me to inform every customer personally."

"Yes, you do give personal service."

Guy frowned. "What's with the suggestive tone?"

"What suggestive tone?"

"Look, my service gives crystal clear voice reproduction, so I can tell suggestive when I hear it. The way you said 'personal' made it a crack."

Dude sniffed. "Did you have a good time reliving your college days?"

"I don't get it."

He rolled over quickly, glaring up. "You seem to forget that they have that candid camera crew following you around to shoot promos. Did you really think I wouldn't see it?"

Guy was really confused now. "See what?"

Dude was gripping the comforter in his fists, knuckles white. "You! I saw you with those... those teenyboppers!"

Guy blinked again. "What? You mean the frat boys? Babe, I showed them how to save money. You know how college kids are about finances. It's no wonder they got excited. But I swear to you that grab and pile-up was nothing more than if... if... if I'd made a good place kick in football. I didn't even get my ass patted."

Dude folded his arms and glared at his lover. Guy couldn't believe it! His lover was jealous--jealous of a bunch of customers that Guy didn't give two dial tones for. Guy's patience had been wearing thin, and he got angry. "And any way, you're one to talk! I'm not the only one who's been caught by the camera."

He stiffened. "I don't know what you mean."

"Really? Does this ring a bell?" Guy let his head droop, eyes closing, opened his mouth, and snored--really sawed logs. When he opened his eyes again, Dude was gaping at him. "That two day trip you took last week. Don't try to deny it! His head was resting very cozily on your shoulder."

"Guy, did you see how little room I had? The passenger on the other side took up one and a half seats. I couldn't have moved away..."

"If you'd wanted to?" Guy said in an 'a-ha!' voice.

"He drooled on me."

"So have I, but you told me that was cute."

"Well, that's because it's you, and I love you."

Guy felt the hot tension, irritation, and suspicion start melting away. "I love you, too. That's why I didn't say anything before. I knew it meant nothing, Dude. I knew you wouldn't sneak around and cheat on me." He smiled softly. "We'd pick out someone and we'd swing together--we've already discussed that."

He chuckled. "Yeah." A sighed. "I'm sorry. I wasn't really mad about the frat boys, you know."

"That's good."

"I was a little envious. After all, who wouldn't like to be smothered in healthy, good looking college students. It was... well... It was the co-eds who got to me."

"What? The girls?" Guy stared at him, disbelieving. "Dude, I've TOLD you..."

He waved his hand. "I know, I know. It's just that they were all screaming and carrying on like the front row at a boyband concert. I could almost smell the damp panties. And then they sort of dogpiled you." He looked down. "They managed to get mascara on your shirt--I found it when I did the laundry. It was just the idea of all that hormonal female flesh piling on you..."

"Believe me, I shuddered. You did catch the look on my face when I went down, right?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. I should have known."

The brown haired man rubbed his shoulder. "Better now?"

He nodded, moving over to snuggle against Guy. "Mhm. I apologize."

"And I apologize for bringing up the bus incident. I just don't see how you could have had even a hint of worry, though." Guy plucked at his tie. "You know how set in my ways I am."

"Ah, but occasionally you break out."

"Name one time."

Dude gave him a devilish smile. "You think I don't know?"

Guy was getting a little nervous. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, yes you do. You were going to surprise me, but I'm turning the tables on you. Remember, I put away your laundry, so I've seen."

His hands were on Guy's belt, undoing the fly. Guy did a very uncharictaristic thing--he tried to stop him. "Dude, stop it!"

"No." *tug* *zip* Guy's face was flaming. "What are you embarrassed about? It isn't as if I haven't seen you in your underwear--" he let his tone drop huskily, "and out of them." Dude shoved and tugged, pushing Guy over onto his back and dragging his pants down quickly. "They weren't in the drawer this morning, so I knew you'd worn them." He sighed, reaching out to caress the front of Guy's new boxers--the black satin ones with large red kisses, and I LOVE YOU all over them. "Yes, the colors are vibrant, and the text messaging comes through loud and clear."

He started to peel them down. "Of course, those are the bells and whistles. What's important..." He'd slipped off his own pants, and now he straddled Guy, as they exchanged looks of mutual love and lust.

"What's important," he continued as he began to move, "is the basic service package."