Oswald was lying across the bed on his stomach, chin on his crossed arms, moping when Lewis arrived upstairs. Lewis paused to admire a very nice scenic view of Oswald posterior before he came the rest of the way into the room. "Hey, buddy. You okay?"

"What is this strange power I have over men, Lewis? And why the hell can't I have it over women?"

"I don't know, Oswald. Judging from my Star Trek experience, I would say that you've entered an alternate universe where everyone's personality is completely opposite from their usual one, but Drew is still fat, Mimi is still a bitch, and Kate is still easy."

"Wick never even noticed me before. Oh, except to tell me that you and me both were a comfort to fundamentalists everywhere, as living proof that Darwin's Theory of Evolution Through Survival of the Fittest couldn't possibly be true."

"See, Oswald? You shouldn't have anything to do with someone who insults you like that."

Oswald blinked. "That was an insult?"

"How is your Uncle Bonzo, anyway?"

"Fine. Him and Aunt Cheetah are gettin' a divorce, though."

Lewis sat on the bed beside him. "Besides the fact that Wick is a man... sort of.... you have to take into account the suddeness of this. It's just like a bolt out of the blue."

Oswald rubbed his butt. "Yeah, I felt like I'd been struck by lightning when he pinched me."

"It's just a physical attraction for him, Oswald. True love grows deep, over a long period of time. Say," he said casually, "How many years have we known each other, anyway?"

Oswald shrugged, not looking at him. "Most of our lives, I guess. You're like a brother to me."

Lewis winced, then cleared his throat. "How do you feel about the Southern take on... um... family relations?"

Oswald looked thoughtful. "I have a cousin from Alabama who says he goes to family reunions to meet dates."

"And?"

"Come to think of it, he pinched my butt at the last reunion, too! My God, it's everywhere!" Oswald rubbed his rump again.

"That really seems to be bothering you."

"Why do you think I'm laying on my stomach? If there ever was a lay-on-your-back-and-stare-moodily-up-at-the-ceiling moment, this is it, and I can't!"

"Say, that's rough. Would you like me to get you some ice for that?" He paused. "An Absorbine, Jr. rub down?." Pause. "Maybe a nice coconut oil massage?"

"Nah. I'd get all sticky."

"You sure would."

Oswald sat up, sighing dejectedly. "I just don't know what to do about this situation. I mean, Wick is Drew's boss, and Drew is my friend. I don't want to do anything that might, like, get him in trouble, or anything."

"Look Oswald, Drew's a big boy... Man, there's an obvious statement. Anyway, he can take care of himself. You have to think about YOU. I mean, even if you were going to go Greek, it wouldn't be with an over-polished, warm-beer drinking, scone-eating, Yorkshire Pudding-addicted man who puts 'u's in words where they don't belong and says 'shed-ule' instead of 'sked-u-al'. Right?"

"Pardon?"

"You'd go for the All-American type: a hard working, handsome, passionate, blue-collar Joe."

"Do I know any of those?" He thought. "Well, there's Steve, but Mimi would neuter me."

Lewis sighed. "It just bothers me that there's been a couple of times during this fiasco where you've seemed, well..."

"Horrified?"

"No."

"Scared shitless?"

"Curious."

Oswald sat up quickly, yelping when his butt hit the rather firm mattress. "I am not curious! I've never been curious."

"Oswald, correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you spend three days in junior high unwinding all the string in a baseball to see if there really was explosive material inside?"

"That was my science project!" He puffed out his chest proudly. "I got a C-."

"It was a D+. And aren't you the one who always runs his finger over everything that has a WET PAINT sign on it?"

"Hey, it has to dry sometime."

"And didn't you poke a hole in the bottom of every one of those Godiva chocolates to take an inventory of what kind you had so you could write up a list of what order you wanted to eat them in?"

"But you gotta space out your praline creams or you'll end up with nothing but maples and amarrettos." Lewis stared at him, and he sighed. "All right, all right. I'm a fucking cat, okay? Meow." Lewis shuddered, and made a noise. Oswald looked at him suspiciously. "Did you just purr?"

"Uh, no. I cleared my throat." Lewis cleared his throat. "The thing to remember is, Oswald, that if you ever do decide to... you know... you should do it with someone you trust."

Oswald gasped. "I should do it with Mr. Rodgers?"

Lewis winced. "No, that's not what I meant." He paused. "Though with those sweaters..." He shook his head. "No, no. If you do decide you want to experiment, go to a friend."

Oswald thought. "I don't have that many good friends. There's Drew. No offense to him, I love him, but..." He gulped and said hastily, "I didn't mean I love him, but, you know... Anyway, he's kinda chunky."

"Chunky is a term for peanut butter. Drew is... big boned."

"Whatever. Then there's Kate, but I've already done it with her, and anyway, she's a girl, so that kind of negates the whole purpose. Then there's you..." He trailed off.

Lewis reclined on his elbow and gazed up at him. "Ye-es?"

"Uh... But... But... you're not... gay." Pause. "Are you?"

Lewis sat back up, his voice indignant. "Certainly not! However I am willing to make almost any sacrifice for a buddy's peace of mind. This depending, of course, on whether said buddy wanted to top or bottom." He put an arm around Oswald's shoulders. "And another thing in my favor--I have a background in the field of experimentation. After all, I work at Drug Co. And you should see some of the experiments those guys run with the lab animals off the record."

Oswald looked a little squeamish. "Yeah?"

"Oh, nothing that hurts them, of course. But it can be very interesting." He got a faraway look in his eyes. "There's something oddly compelling about a macaque monkey in a little leather vest."

"Lewis, you gotta stop working the graveyard shift." Oswald stood up and moved out of his friend's reach. "I don't think I could do it with you, Lewis. Sex changes everything in a relationship."

"Maybe you are gay. That sounded too damn sensitive for a normal heterosexual male."

Oswald arched his eyebrows, crossing his arms. "Sometimes we just want to be held."

"I was wrong. You're not gay--you're a woman, and we just haven't noticed it till now."

Oswald's hands flew to his hips. "Am not!" Lewis looked at his pose, then quirked an eyebrow. Oswald quickly removed his hands. "Am not!"

Lewis's voice was sly. "Prove it. Drop your pants."

Oswald started jerking at his belt, muttering, "I'll show you, you rat. Don't believe me, huh? Well, I'll just..." He suddenly realized what he was doing when he saw Lewis going for the Instamatic. "Hey!"

"I was just going to document it for posterity." He looked at the camera. "Can you get 8 x 10s from the negatives for this thing?"

"Lewis!"

"It's not like I'm asking for a poster or anything. Though I heard there's this printing shop downtown that will..."

"I'm not listening to this!" Oswald started for the stairs.

"Wait! Don't go!" Lewis hurried after him, his voice rising. "At least wait till I get behind you so I can look at your butt!"

Oswald got halfway down the stairs when Wick appeared at the bottom. The Englishman stood, arms outstretched to either side, hands on the rails, effectively blocking passage. "Hello, Oswald." His voice was deep. "Why don't you slide down the banister? Just sling one of those long legs over, s-t-r-addle it, and s-l-i-d-e on down. I'll catch you."

Oswald started back up. Lewis appeared at the top of the stair. "Don't listen to him, buddy. Come back up here, where you'll be safe. Have I told you that Drug Co. is looking for research volunteers to test a new cellulite cream that's supposed to firm and tone the buttocks? I was planning to join, and I can get you on."

"Don't listen to him, darling." Wick sniffed. "Your arse is beautiful just the way it is. It should be framed. In fact, I've brought my tape measure with me, so if you'd just let me take a few measurements..."

"Drew!" Oswald wailed.

At his table in the bar, Drew sighed. "Aw, hell, here I go, playin' Jack Armstrong, All American Boy again." He put down his beer, got up, and went to the stairs. "Mr. Wick! Lewis! Back off! Have you no shame?"

"No, absolutely not." Wick peered past Oswald at Lewis. "You?" Lewis shook his head. Wick turned back to Drew. "Complete and utter absence of shame, Carey."

"What about dignity?"

"Please, Carey. After Fergie's toe sucking incident?"

"Well, for heaven's sake, if you have to pant after the poor guy, be a gentleman about it!"

Wick hung his head. "You're right, Carey. We English do have a fine old tradition of genteel, romantic courtship. Robert Browning, Lord Byron, Tennyson and all that. Of course..." He turned lustful eyes back to Oswald. "...there's also Benny Hill to consider."

Steve walked past. "If you run a big chase through here with saxophones, a bald headed midget and bare breasted women, I'm kicking you out."

Wick stepped back, opening up a passage, and bowed to Oswald gallantly. "Please, fair one. Come down from your lofty perch," he shot a glance at Lewis, "Before the buzzard gets you." Oswald eyed the narrow space, his hands going to cover his rump. "Do not fear, I shall not molest you. Not in public, any way. Your delectable posterior is safe for the nonce."

"Yeah," Lewis growled. "but is it safe from the nance?"

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but my lawyer can bust your balls. Watch that sink hole you call a mouth." Wick warned. "Oswald?"

Oswald edged cautiously past Wick. Nigel didn't grab at him. His fingers twitched worse than a junkie who was two days dry with a bag of China White in front of him, but he didn't grab. Instead he waved Oswald over to the gang's regular table again, and held his chair for him. Oswald started to sit, but paused halfway down. Bitter experience had taught him that a chair that was there when you started down might not be there when you approached landing. Wick cooed, "That's all right, lamb. You just squat there as long as you like. I'll just stand here and compose a sonnet to your bum." Oswald sat.

Kate, on the other side of the table, said, "I've had guys write poems about my body parts before."

Drew joined them. "Yeah, Kate, but I'm not sure limericks count in the grand scheme of things."

Wick folded his hands on the table and said solicitously, "Are you feeling safer now, with your friends around you?"

"Yeah, kinda." Oswald eyed Lewis warily as he took his seat next to him. "Some of them."

"Taking Carey's good advice..." Wick paused, looking astonished. "Good Lord, I can't believe I'm saying that. I can probably make a fast fifty selling the story to the World Weekly News."

"Nah, too unbelievable." Lewis dead panned. Drew threw a pretzel at him It might have been effective if Oswald didn't catch it and eat it.

"Neatly done, pet. In any case, I am doing the proper thing, and stating my intentions publicly. Oswald, I'm going to court you."

Oswald looked dismayed. "But what have I done? Won't you get in trouble for a frivolous lawsuit?"

"Luckily I don't find brains all that sexually stimulating. I mean that I'm going to woo you, chat you up, take you out, romance you..."

"Put the moves on you." Lewis scowled.

"Yes, but in a very sophisticated, respectful way. Oswald, will you have lunch with me tomorrow?"

"I hafta work," he stalled.

"You do get a lunch break?"

"Well, yeah."

"Come by the office tomorrow at noon."

"I dunno."

Wick sighed. He leaned a little closer, made his eyes enormous, and batted lashes that suddenly looked about three inches long. "Please?"

"Oo. Okay."

"Splendid!" He got up, and took Oswald's hand. He kissed it, saying "You won't regret this." Then he turned around and strutted out of the Warsaw, singing along with the song someone had just fired up on the kareoke machine. "I'm gonna ma-ake you luuuve me.... Oh, yes, I will! Oh, yes, I will!"

Lewis looked hurt. "I can't believe you did that."

"But Lewis, he gave me puppy dog eyes. You know I can't resist puppy dog eyes." Lewis tried it himself. "I meant cocker spaniel puppy dog eyes. Not bloodhound puppy dog eyes."

"Rats."

"Yeah, they kinda look a little beady, too."

Kate was curious. "You're really gonna go out with Wick?"

"It's just lunch, Kate. I mean, it'll be broad daylight, and on my lunch hour. Nothing can happen under those circumstances, right?"

Drew ate a pretzel. "You could do a speech on that. I think the Annual Convention of the Managers of No-Tell Motels has a slot open on their Afternoon Delights panel."