Date: Thu, 20 Feb 2014 20:52:25 +1100
From: Andy Darko <niftyandydarko@gmail.com>
Subject: Channing's Visit Pt. 12

This story will contain sexual acts between two adult males. I am not, nor
do I know the celebrities involved. I do not know their sexual preferences.
If you are not of legal age, please direct yourself to another site. If you
enjoy Nifty, please donate!

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Channing's Visit - Chapter 12
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Holy balls! It's been FOREVER since an update! I mean, what's been going
on?! Life for the author must be going crazy! Wait a minute... that's me!
And, yes! My life has been bonkers! Soz for the delay, guys, but the real
world has taken over with a vengeance! I won't make any promises as to an
update after this, but I assure you (as I have before) that the boys are
always close to my heart and won't be ending soon!

Right about here, I normally give a shoutout to EVERYONE who has e-mailed
me about the story because I know you guys are the only reason I continue
to write. However, there is someone who I absolutely must mention because
their story is amazingly beautiful. I apologize in advance to him if I am
divulging too much about him, but I felt it was an inspirational,
heartwarming story. There is a reader, David, who has unfortunately lost
his sight and uses a special program to `read' the stories on Nifty. He
told me that the more description in a story, the better to help him
develop the image in his mind. So, to David, I say thank you. My writing
may not help the world become a better place, but if I can give someone a
split second of imagery and happiness, it makes it worth it. I'll be
thinking of you while I'm writing, David...
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	The next day, I feigned being hungover so as not to be bothered
with Channing's friends, Dave Franco and Jonah Hill. I had nothing against
them, per se, but I had been quite overwhelmed the night before and felt as
if I deserved a break. I could tell that Channing was disappointed, but he
kissed me on the forehead and left, although not before bringing me a glass
of water and an ibuprofen. There was no indication that he remembered
uttering those three words before he passed out, so I chose not to bring it
up.

	True to Naina's word, Channing's schedule became more hectic the
following week. He was constantly away from the house in meetings with
producers or writers or whomever. For the first couple of weeks, I was fine
with it, happy to see him back in his own element. He would come home,
tired but excited to be back at work. I could almost always find him on the
couch or by the pool with a script in hand and a focused look on his face.

	Meagan had been kind enough to ship my paintings and a good portion
of my supplies to Channing's. He, in turn, had cleared out a sizable
portion of his garage so I could set up shop. As soon as he left for the
day, usually after a wakeup blowjob or vigorous fuck session, I made my way
to the garage and spent my day painting. The pieces were almost finished
and every day brought them a little bit closer.

	I spent time with some of my new friends; Jen and I went to
Disneyland Adventure for a day, which contributed to about fifty photos on
my newfound social media apps. Towards the end of the day, once we had left
the park, the paparazzi had apparently heard of her location and caught us
on our way to dinner. There were inquiries as to whether or not we were
dating, which made us both laugh. A few days later, the pictures were
online everywhere. She continued to ask me about my art and my progress on
my new pieces, subtly hinting that she was still interested in a piece of
her own.

	I met up with Neil Patrick Harris and his partner Dave for lunch
one day and spent the entire meal drinking, cackling and dodging questions
about Channing. I could tell that the boys may have had an inkling as to
the truth, but they said nothing outright. I admired them and their
relationship. The following day, I met with Zooey for coffee at a quaint
cafe and talked about music and art and all sorts of things. Her humility
and modesty were heartwarming in the bustling, narcissistic environment of
Los Angeles.

	After a few weeks, Channing and I had settled into a comfortable
rhythm. He had signed me up at his gym which was apparently an elite,
celebrity-only fitness center. I opted for a personal trainer in order to
help me with the exercises. I had to explain to both he and Channing that I
wasn't looking to become the Hulk, necessarily. I just wanted to tone up
and gain a little more of a masculine shape. So, I began doing bench
presses and bicep curls and tricep pulldowns and squats and all the other
muscle-burning moves intended to mold me into a stud. It was after one of
these grueling sessions towards the end of the month that things took an
unimaginable turn for the worse.

	I had finished up, driven home and taken a soothing hot
shower. Channing was off at a script reading and I didn't expect him home
for hours. I toweled off and slid into a pair of shorts, not bothering with
a shirt. Even after only a few weeks, my body was growing more defined and
I certainly didn't mind showing it off for Channing. I headed to the
kitchen and whipped myself up a protein shake. As it blended, I turned on
my iPad and opened up my e-mail. There was one from Meagan, one from my
managerial consultant, a few spam e-mails pushing porn or knock-off
Viagara, and...

	Now, I normally wouldn't open e-mail from and unfamiliar, or in
this case unnamed, sender, but this one was labeled `Reagan and
Channing'. My curiosity was piqued, yet tinged with a sense of
foreboding. When it opened, my heart stopped as I took in the
message. There were several attachments connected to the e-mail, but, even
as I moved to open them, I knew what they were. Once they had all
downloaded, I snatched up my phone.

	It took four consecutive calls for Channing to pick up. When he
did, he spoke in hushed tones. "Babe, is everything okay? Why do you
keep-,"

	"You need to come home," I cut in, my pulse racing. Through the
receiver, I heard him excuse himself. A moment later, he spoke in a normal
voice. "Reagan, what are you talking about?"

	"It's... I just need you to come home," I said frantically. "This
is really important and it's something that we need to deal with and I
don't know how to-,"

	"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the hell is going on?"

	At this point, I lost all pretenses of subtlety. "Channing! I
wouldn't fucking ask you to come home if it wasn't serious! Please!"

	"Okay! Give me half an hour."

	I hung up without saying goodbye and began pacing back and forth. I
bit at my small fingernails, accomplishing nothing but aggravating the
skin. My free hand was knotted in my hair, almost pulling it out. I had
worn a path in the carpet by the time Channing walked through the door. He
took one look at me and rushed over, taking me by the
shoulders. "Babe. What happened?"

	I chewed my lip nervously, unable to look him in the
eyes. "It's... it just came today and... it could totally be nothing,
but... I mean, we talked about it and if something happened, but we didn't
REALLY mean-,"

	Channing clutched my face gently and forced me to look at
him. "Reagan. What are you talking about? What came today?"

	I felt my eyes water. "You were right."

	"About?"

	"The photographer."

	Channing's face furrowed in confusion. "What photographer? Babe,
you're not making any sense. What came today?"

	"The guy in the woods," I said quietly. "Near Meagan's."

	Channing paused for a moment before his face blanched. His grip
slackened and he stood straight up. "What do you mean?" I couldn't respond
vocally, so I pointed at the tablet on the counter. He gave me one final
glance before picking up the device. His eyes scanned the words before a
few taps brought up the incriminating photos he had warned against.

	The man in the woods may or may not have been an amateur
photographer. But, what he had captured was Channing and I having personal,
intimate moments. There were pictures of us kissing, holding hands, us
snuggling against each other in the flowers. If it weren't for the
malicious message attached to it, the pictures would have been beautiful.

	I felt the words pouring out of my mouth. "He says he'll send the
pictures everywhere if we don't send him money. He can't honestly think
this will work, right? I mean, we can... we'll call the police. He's got to
be a stalker or something. Channing, I don't even know how he found out who
I was and how he got my e-mail! Do you think he knows we're here? Could he
have followed us to-,"

	"It's fine."

	The calm look on his face startled me out of my temporary panic
attack. "Excuse me? Did you just say it's fine?! This guy is bribing us for
thousands of dollars or else he'll expose us to the world! How is that
fine?!"

	"It's just fine. Everything will be okay," he said in that same
calm tone. "Just let me handle this and don't worry about it." He dug his
phone out of his pocket and sighed heavily. I lingered behind him until he
placed the phone to his ear. Over his shoulder, he gave me half-hearted
smile. "I won't be long." I recognized the words as a dismissal and made my
way out to the back yard.

	Within seconds, I had my own phone out and was listening to
Meagan's phone ring. "Hello, baby brother."

	"Meg, there's a problem."

	"Is everything okay? Are you all right?"

	I sighed and relayed the entire story to her, starting with that
day in the field. When I was done, she clicked her tongue
thoughtfully. "Have you called the police?"

	"No. I called Channing," I said as I plopped down onto a lawn
chair. "He barely reacted. He just said that everything was fine and that
he would take care of it. Then, he got on his phone."

	"Well, to be honest, maybe you should do just that."

	"What?! Meagan, this is crazy! Either Channing gets outed or we
have to fork over money! It's not exactly a win-win!"

	"Never said it was," she replied. "But, if Channing was so calm
about it then he probably has a plan of action. I'm sure with all his
connections that he has some sort of contingency plan for this." I felt my
teeth grinding. Despite her logical points, I felt frustrated and
helpless. Channing had cut me out of the process without even explaining
who he was calling or what we were going to do about the situation.

	"This is awful. It's my fault that those pictures were even taken,"
I said more to myself than to Meagan. "I'm the one that dragged him out
there in the first place."

	Meagan scoffed. "There's no point in blaming yourself and you know
that. It takes a real low-life to bribe someone for something as trivial as
their sexuality. Secret or not. So, when the police find this guy, they're
gonna give him hell and rightly so. You just need to focus on you and
Channing. He may be putting on a strong face, but I'm sure he's nervous
inside, too. You have to be there for him."

	There was a minute of silence as I reclined on the chair. Meagan
waited patiently as I composed my thoughts. "How?"

	"Just be yourself, stupid!" she laughed. "Let him handle this the
way he wants to and you continue to do the foul things that only you can do
for him. I'm not saying pretend everything is normal, but don't fret
unnecessarily about it."

	"I suppose you're right..."

	"You know I am," she said smartly. "Now, tell me about some of the
awesome adventures you've been having in the City of Angels. Have you met
anyone famous?"

	Her excitement brought a small smile to my face. "Of course I
have."

	"Well? Like who?"

	I shrugged, knowing that she couldn't see it. "Well... Jennifer
Lawrence and I have been hanging out. Neil Patrick Harris and David. Zooey
Deschanel. I'm pretty sure I met Kerry Washington, but I was seriously
drunk at that point."

	The phone conversation did a wonderful job of distracting me from
my dilemma. Meagan was perfect at keeping my mind preoccupied, even when it
was just idle prattle. I was feeling almost normal when movement from
inside the house drew my eye. Channing was leading Naina and a guy I didn't
know into the living room, the tablet in his hand. I watched as he handed
it over to the two of them, gesturing calmly. Naina's face puckered even
more than normal. The unknown gentleman had taken out his phone and was
alternating between conversing with Channing and whoever was on the other
end.

	"Hello? Reagan?"

	I realized that Meagan was still on the line and immediately tuned
back in to our own dialogue. "Sorry, Meg. What did you say?"

	"I was saying that I'm going to go," she snorted haughtily. "I have
some things to do before Milo gets home. Give me a call soon and keep me
updated."

	"Will do. Love you."

	"Love you, too."

	I hung up and watched the scene inside. Despite his cool demeanor,
I could see the frustration on Channing's face and in his body
language. His jaw was set firmly, his hands were constantly in motion, and
his eyes were steeled. I hadn't seen him this serious since Joey handed him
the divorce papers.

	And I felt horrible for being the cause.

	The secret meeting continued for a half hour before the pair
left. Channing sat with his hands over his face for a while before I
quietly made my way inside. I sidled up next to him in silence, unsure of
what to say. I thought of the advice Meagan had given me to just act normal
and scooted closer to him, placing my hand on his leg. He sighed deeply and
rested his elbows on his knees, but said nothing. Taking the silence as an
invitation, I leaned in and kissed his neck, evoking another deep
breath. Feeling emboldened, I slid my hand up a few inches towards his
groin as my lips moved towards his jaw.

	All of a sudden, Channing was on his feet, his face a moue of
anger. "Really, Reagan? This is what you think we should be doing?"

	I was gobsmacked. "Wha-... I don't... I was just trying-,"

	"Trying to fuck me into forgetting what's going on?" he
snapped. "Is that your way of dealing with this situation?"

	"No! I was just trying to keep things... normal!"

	His laugh was devoid of humor and chock full of sarcasm. "Normal?
We're being blackmailed! There's nothing normal about this!"

	My face flushed with both embarrassment and anger. How could he
attack me for something I had no control over? After all, it wasn't like I
was trying to make him forget. I just wanted to go about our business as
usual. I felt slighted.

	"I didn't say there was anything normal!" I shot back, spitting
venom. "I don't even know what's going on! You basically pushed me out of
all of this! I was making an attempt to have some normal, awesome sex
instead of worrying about this bullshit and now you're fucking screaming at
me!"

	"I pushed you out because there's nothing you can do about it! I'm
the one who has to handle this!"

	I let out a cry of frustration. "Why?! This is supposed to be a
relationship, Channing! We're supposed to do things together!"

	Channing responded by knocking a lamp from the side table. It flew
across the room and exploded, which only seemed to infuriate him even
further. He seemed to stumble through a few angry syllables before
clutching his hair in frustration. "There's nothing you can do!"

	I clenched my jaw and bit back several choice responses. After a
minute or two of silence, I took a deep breath. "Fine."

	The single word stunned him as much as it had me earlier. "What?"

	I stood, jaw squared, chest puffed. "I said, fine. If there's
nothing I can do, then there's no reason for me to be here." With that
said, I turned and made my way upstairs and into the bedroom. Channing
followed hastily, bursting through the door as I slid into a random
short-sleeved button up. "What are you saying? Where are you going?"

	"I don't know," I spat. "Why does it matter? You can have your
little Hollywood meetings and not worry about me getting in the way or
trying to be a bad boyfriend by distracting you with sex." As I wiggled my
way into a pair of skinny jeans, Channing closed the distance between us
and placed his hand on my back. "Babe..." I swatted his hand away without
blinking.

	"Don't even," I growled. "YOU were the one who wanted me out
here. YOU were the one who said you needed me here. And now, YOU are the
one who is pushing me away. I'm sorry that this guy is screwing us over,
but you do need to remember that he is screwing US over. Not just you." I
stepped into a pair of flip-flops and left the room, leaving a silent
Channing behind. My heartbeat was still pumping in my ears and my jaw ached
from the clenching. I was shocked and offended that Channing had lashed out
at me just for trying to ease the tension. It was a side of him that I had
never seen. A side that I didn't want to see again.

	"Reagan, wait!"

	I didn't turn around. I didn't acknowledge him. I just kept
walking. I grabbed the keys off of the wall and slipped into the garage
without so much as a backward glance. As I buckled myself into some stylish
import with more horsepower than I needed, he knocked on the window, his
face stern but soft. I put the car in reverse and lowered the window. "Can
we talk, please?"

	I finally looked him in the eye. Those dazzling green eyes that
could almost see into my very heart. I saw pain, I saw worry and I saw
care.

	"I have nothing to say to you that I haven't said already."

	With that, I pulled out of the garage and towards the city. I had
no clue where I was headed, but I just had to get away from Channing. As
shocked as I was at his reaction, I was even more stunned at mine. Being
able to resist Channing was not high on my list of skills, so shutting him
out was something I hadn't expected to be able to do. True to my indecisive
nature, part of me felt like I should whip the car back into the garage and
run straight into his arms. But, the newer, confident, L.A.-living me was
stronger in his determination to stand my ground.

	After ten minutes of aimless driving, I pulled over and put the car
in park. At a loss, I found myself scrolling through my phone until I found
a familiar name. I debated whether or not I should bother her, deciding
that she would tell me if she were busy. I dialed Jen's number and pressed
the phone to my ear. It rang and rang and rang. Just as I was about to hang
up, she picked up.

	"No. Way!" she squealed. "I was seriously about to call you!"

	"I'm sure."

	"Seriously!" she insisted. "I just got out of an interview and I
wanted to see if you would join me for dinner and drinks! I haven't seen
you in almost two weeks!" Jen's honest friendship loosened some of the
tension in my mood. A slight smile crossed my face. "I would love to," I
told her. "It's been a rough day."

	"Everything okay?"

	"Not at all," I sighed. "It's... complex."

	"Well, you can tell me all about it over dinner. When are you
free?"

	I chuckled. "I'm sitting on the side of the road in Calabasas right
now, so... whenever?"

	"Jesus, Reagan! Okay, I'm texting you the address to the
restaurant. You'll probably get there before me, so I'll call ahead and
change the booking to both of our names."

	"See you soon."

	"Bye!"

	I sped off and, sure enough, reached the restaurant before Jen. The
maitre d' sat me at a secluded table and assured me that he would
personally seat Jen when she arrived. In the meantime, I ordered a martini
and perused the menu. My mind was muddled with thoughts of Channing and my
reaction. I briefly wondered why he hadn't even attempted to call or
text. My sting of anger was belayed by Jen's sudden arrival.

	She was sporting a gorgeous sundress with a bright, cheery print
and classy nude heels. Her hair was flawlessly done, leading me to believe
that her interview had been for television. Jen settled into the seat
across from me and looked me over. Her eyes narrowed
analytically. "Straight to the point. What happened? You
look... perturbed."

	I sighed, trying to decide the best way to explain the state
Channing and I were in. Unable to figure out any proper route, I just
blurted it out. "Some guy took pictures of Channing and I together and now
he's blackmailing us."

	Jen's eyebrows shot up and her jaw fell. "Are you fucking serious?"

	"Yep. And, I tried to keep things normal by... being intimate and
Channing lost his shit and started screaming at me. So... I screamed back
and I left." Jen pressed her lips together thoughtfully, propping her chin
on her hands. In the midst of the silence, I took a sip of my drink. Jen
finally spoke, her voice rife with worry. "What exactly did he scream
about?"

	I sighed. "He won't tell me what he's planning on doing about it
and says that there is nothing that I can do. He's completely cutting me
off."

	"I take it the police haven't been called."

	I shrugged. "Who knows? I am not involved. I know next to nothing."

	We paused to order drinks and food, then resumed the
conversation. I explained to Jen how I was torn between being upset with
Channing and being upset with our blackmailer. Whereas it was
understandable that Channing was upset, it wasn't my fault. Nor was it fair
to me to be left in the dark. Throughout my ranting and whining, Jen
listened intently, nodding or biting her lip thoughtfully. When I was done
with my speech, she took a moment to think before speaking.

	"Well, Reagan... I agree with you."

	"Really?"

	"Of course! It's not a relationship if there isn't trust and
Channing seems to be forgetting that this is going to affect you, too."

	I threw my hands up in frustration. "That's exactly what I said!"

	"But..."

	I eyed her curiously. "But... what?"

	"But... maybe he's not worried about how this will affect him," she
said slowly. My eyes narrowed as she spoke. "Meaning...?"

	"Maybe he's upset because... well, because he's worried about what
will happen to YOU if this news comes out."

	"EXCUSE ME?!"

	Jen lifted her hands in a placating way. "Hold on, hold on! Before
you go all crazy defensive on me, hear me out."

	"I most certainly will NOT," I growled. "And, you will not justify
his behavior out of some pseudo-chivalric, Prince Charming complex. His
behavior is unacceptable and I don't have to tolerate it!" My volume had
increased dramatically throughout the rant without my realizing it. So much
so that other tables had begun to look at us strangely. Jen reached across
the table and took my hands in hers.

	"Reagan... first off, calm the hell down. Take a deep breath."

	I sighed heavily.

	"Another."

	Again.

	"One more."

	"I'm getting lightheaded."

	"Good. That means you won't be able to form a cognitive thought and
go on another college-prep-vocabulary-influenced rant again. Now,
listen. As much as I don't condone his reaction, you need to take a step
back and think about how things look for him. From everything we've talked
about, I know that this whole thing has been an ordeal. He's been worried
about how publicity might affect you since you made it official and, now,
it's a very real concern for him. Should he choose not to pay this guy off,
you'll both be exposed. Being in Hollywood himself, Channing is more
prepared for this more than you are. If this actually happens, you're going
to be attacked from every possible angle and that is scary for him."

	I sneered at her, annoyed by the fact that she was making me doubt
my fury. Her point was entirely valid, but I wanted to hang on to my anger
as long as I could. After all, Channing was the one who started screaming
first, not me. Determined to shake the negative mood, Jen switched topics
as our food arrived. Of course, her first topic was my art and which pieces
I would be selling her. I rolled my eyes as we dug in, but her persistence
brought a smile to my face.

	As we came close to finishing our meals, Jen's phone began to buzz
in her small clutch. She pardoned herself and dug it out of the bag. I
tuned out of her conversation until she covered the mouthpiece and leaned
across the table. "Hey, are you up for a couple of drinks tonight?"

	"Who wants to know?"

	"Fassy."

	"Who the hell is that?"

	"Sorry. Michael Fassbender," she chuckled. "I told him I'd meet him
for drinks and completely forgot. Why don't you come with?"

	"Sure. Why not?"

	She relayed the message to Michael and said a polite goodbye before
hanging up and signaling the waiter to ask for our bill. I pouted. "Aw, I
wanted to get dessert."

	"Oh, quit your whining, you brat. I'll buy you an espresso martini
or some other pansy cocktail." We paid, piled into our respective vehicles
and made our way to a posh, upscale bar. Jen guided me past the swarm of
paparazzi and into the lounge where Michael waited.

	I was immediately stricken by the blatant masculinity of the man
before me. He was donning a simple white button up and dark jeans, all of
which hugged his impressive musculature. His hair was longer than I had
seen in his films and his strong jaw was covered in a gingery stubble. Had
I not been in a committed relationship, I'd consider giving him a run.

	Jen embraced him before turning to me. "Fassy, this is Reagan
Mauldwin. Reagan, Fassy."

	"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said, extending my hand. "Should I
call you Michael?" He enveloped my hand in his and gave me a small
smile. "You can call me either Michael or Fassy. Either is fine." As we
parted, I was almost sure that his eyes slid over my body, somewhat
salaciously, but I couldn't be sure. Before I could question it, we were
settling into a comfortable booth, Jen on one side of me, Michael on the
other. After we ordered drinks, it was he who broke the ice.

	"So, Reagan," he began in his intoxicatingly deep voice. "What do
you do?"

	I found myself disconcerted by the piercing blue of his eyes, but
composed myself long enough to reply. "I'm a painter."

	"Oh, really now?"

	"An amazing artist," Jen cut in. My cheeks grew hot under Michael's
curious gaze, but made an attempt to divert attention away from me. "Says
the amazing actress."

	Jen put on an exaggerated expression of embarrassment. "Me? No! I'm
nothing special at all!" Her face dropped. "That's what you sound like. All
the time. Just take the compliment."

	I stuck my tongue out in response. Jen crossed her eyes and puffed
up her cheeks. I hooked my fingers in my mouth and bared my teeth, cueing a
chuckle from Michael. "I see why she likes you. Kindred spirits."

	We ordered drinks and conversed lightly. Despite his gruff
appearance, Michael was quite genial and warm. I found it effortless to
talk with him. I admit that my eyes wandered a few times across the taut
shirt stretched across his buff chest and, at least once, he caught me
looking. He said nothing, but gave me a knowing smile. I blushed.

	An hour or so into our conversation, I noticed a man with a camera
moving throughout the bar. He stopped at every table and took multiple
pictures at each one. When I questioned Jen with a look, she followed my
gaze. "Oh, they do that here," she explained casually. "You know, take
pictures, post them online, show that celebrities come here. He'll be over
here soon enough." With a casual flick of her wrist, a compact appeared and
Jen appraised herself.

	"I think I'll skip out on that," I chuckled. "I'm not feeling very
dapper."

	It was Michael that chimed in. "Nonsense. You look quite handsome."
He emphasized his point by placing his arm around my shoulders and pulling
me into him. "You must take some pictures with us."

	"I don't-,"

	"No point in arguing with him," Jen laughed. "Trust me, you won't
win."

	I looked at Michael and found him staring intently at my face. As
the blood rushed to my cheeks, the photographer approached. "Sorry to
interrupt your evening," he said. "But, I was wondering if you all would
mind taking a few promotional photos?"

	"We wouldn't mind at all," Jen beamed, scooting out of the
booth. Michael did the same, pausing briefly to shoot me a meaningful
look. When I hesitated, he held out his hand and gave me a smile. I sighed,
rolled my eyes and placed my hand on his. He pulled me out of the booth and
I settled between him and Jen. We took a few shots with the two of them
framing me, then some with Jen in the middle. I was more than happy to step
aside as Jen and Michael posed together. However, I didn't have much
downtime as Jen playfully bumped Michael out of the shot and pulled me into
her. We shared a laugh as the camera clicked a few times, her head on my
shoulder and my arm around her.

	Just as I was sure that we were done, Michael snuck up and looked
to Jen. "Mind if I cut in?" I gave her the most pleading look I could,
begging her not to. In return, her face became a mask of pure
deviousness. With an exaggerated bow, she stepped back and let Michael
in. He sidled up next to me and put his thick arm around my waist. My
throat hitched as his hand rested on my hip, but I put a smile on my face
for the camera. As much as I hated to admit it, I was rather enjoying the
attention I was getting, especially in lieu of Channing's behavior.

	 Once the photographer dismissed himself, Jen excused herself to
the restroom. We ordered another round of drinks and settled back into the
booth. Michael leaned into me as he took a swig of his beer. "So, Reagan."

	I mirrored his move with my martini. "So, Michael."

	"Perhaps I'm reading things incorrectly, and I certainly do hope
that I'm not, but it seems I wouldn't be going too far to ask if you'd like
to join me for dinner one night."

	I paused, shocked by his request. When I finally answered, my voice
was unsteady. "I... that would be nice, but... I am seeing someone."

	"Ah. Do I know this person?"

	"By name, probably, but... well, he's in the closet."

	Michael nodded knowingly. "Understandable. After all, it's not as
if the world knows about my preferences."

	"Which is?"

	"Both sexes have their own advantages."

	I couldn't help but laugh. "So, you're an opportunist?"

	"I've been called worse," he said with a sly grin. "So, if I'm not
being too intrusive, where is this boyfriend of yours?"

	"You ARE being intrusive," I replied playfully. "But, I don't
mind. He and I just had our first fight. And, instead of sitting around the
house stewing in my own rage, I left and called Jen." Michael pursed his
lips, obviously surprised by my candor. "And, do you think it wise to hold
that conversation at bay while you party?"

	I huffed and stuttered through a response which did nothing but
make Michael chuckle. Jen appeared, a waiter in tow carrying drinks, and
sat down daintily. "What are you two laughing about?"

	"Michael is trying his hand at psychoanalysis."

	"I was merely trying to learn more about Reagan," he clarified
smoothly. "Although, not without a degree of resistance."

	"He's being nosy."

	Jen snickered as she passed us our drinks. "Play nice, boys. We're
just getting our night started."

	"Oh?"

	She took a mouthful of her drink and nodded. "We've had dinner and
drinks. We have got to go dancing!" I felt my eyes bulge in surprise. "No
freaking way. Absolutely not happening."

	Michael chuckled, then said, "Excuse me. I'm going to run to the
bathroom."

	As he left, Jen turned to me. "So, what was the psychoanalysis
about?"

	"Michael asked me out on a date!"

	She shook her head, a smile on her face. "I'm not surprised."

	"You knew that he was bi?"

	Jen brought her drink to her lips with a knowing look on her
face. "I told you that I knew some guys in the business that would blow
your mind. Fassy happened to be one of them. And, he does have a liking for
creative types."

	"Of course it's my luck," I groaned. "Now that I'm seeing someone,
I get all the attention."

	We shared a laugh as Michael rejoined us. Not missing a beat, Jen
continued the previous conversation. "You have to come, Reagan! Have a
drink or two and let loose! You need it!"

	"No. There is no way in hell that is happening. At all. Ever."

	Thirty minutes later, Jen, Michael and I were in the middle of the
dance floor of a pumping dance club. How Jen had convinced me to come was
still a mystery. Her powers of persuasion over me were impressive, although
I knew there was a good heart behind all of it. She just wanted me to have
fun. And, at the moment, fun was certainly being had. Jen and I were
rocking out to some remix, drinks in hand, while Michael was at the bar.

	Out of the corner of my eye, I couldn't help but notice how pert
his behind was in his jeans. I must have stared for too long because Jen
grabbed my face and gave me a chastising look. "Behave. Just because you're
in a fight doesn't mean you can go making stupid mistakes."

	"I'm just looking!" I laughed, gin coursing through my veins. "It's
totally okay to look at a menu as long as you eat at home."

	"You're shameless."

	"Am not! I just know a nice ass when I see one!"

	"And, whose ass might that be?" Michael's rumbling voice asked. I
blushed. Jen laughed. "Anyone I know?"

	The drinks were speaking freely now. I had no control as the words
spilled out. "Perhaps a certain Irish-German fellow who I'm sure had a
drink for me." The grin that crept across Michael's face was both alluring
and dangerous. "One dirty gin martini coming right up." He slunk back into
the crowd, eyes locked on mine until we couldn't see each other anymore.

	I was yanked back to reality, both literally and metaphorically, by
Jen. Her face was pure seriousness. "Reagan. Cut it out."

	A bark of laughter escaped my lips. "Cut what out?"

	Jen took me by my arm and dragged me off of the dance floor. I
found myself in a dark corner, Jen staring up at me
disapprovingly. "Reagan, I know you're in the middle of a spat with
Channing, but you're digging yourself into a hole with Fassy that will get
you into trouble."

	"I'm not doing anything!" I laughed drunkenly. "So he's showing me
a little attention! It's not like I'm going to do anything with him!" Jen
took a deep breath and locked onto me with an intense gaze. For a moment, I
found myself face to face with Katniss Everdeen instead of Jen, her face an
intimidating mask of barely contained anger. Then, just like that, she was
back. "I know you're not planning on doing anything. But, Fassy
is... determined. When he sets his sights on someone he likes, he goes for
it without question. And, as much as I love Fassy, I don't want him to get
in the middle of you and Channing."

	I leaned in closely, wobbling just a bit. When had I gotten so
drunk? "Jen. Lovely Ms. Lawrence. I assure you that I will be on my best
behavior. And, I will not do anything to endanger my relationship with
Channing. Even though he's being a gigantic asshole."

	"Promise me that you will NOT do anything with Fassy."

	"I swear that I will not do anything with Michael," I said
seriously. Then, with a smile, "Except perhaps dance and drink."

	"That damn well better be it."

	"Pardon the interruption, but I have a drink delivery." I turned to
see Michael holding out a martini with a generous amount of olives. With a
smile, I took it from him, our fingers touching momentarily. I found the
smile mirrored on his own rugged face, but my train of through was
interrupted by Jen clearing her throat behind me. "And, where exactly is my
drink?"

	Michael handed her an elaborately garnished martini glass, his gaze
confident. "Right here, darling. And, if you'll excuse us, I'm going to
kidnap Reagan for a dance."

	I tossed back my drink and set it on a nearby table as Michael
whisked me off towards the dance floor. When I looked back at Jen, her jaw
was set firmly. She mouthed the word, "Behave."

	Once on the dance floor, Michael swept me into the midst of the
crowd and pulled me into his body. I laughed loudly as he wrapped his arms
around me and began swaying to the beat, our bodies moving in
synchronization. We remained that way for a few songs until I caught sight
of Jen. Her lips were pursed and her arms crossed. With a sigh, I
disconnected from Michael and made my way through the writhing bodies of
the club. Without a word, I took Jen by her wrist and pulled her back into
the throng. Her displeased face broke into a smile as I all but thrust her
in between Michael and I and began moving her hips in time with the music.

	The three of us whirled around the dance floor for an undetermined
amount of time, Michael and I partaking in a few more drinks as the night
went on. Jen chose to opt out, stating that she was driving. I should have
been on the same train of thought, but I was in the mindset to erase my
Channing-induced rage with booze.

	Before I knew quite what was happening, we were outside of the
club, Jen and Michael supporting my tottering weight. There was no
questioning it: I was blind, stinking drunk. I was also loving every minute
of my stupor. It was after being led to Jen's car that I tuned back into
the conversation. "No, it's fine, Fassy," Jen was saying. "I'll drop him
off and head home."

	"Are you sure that you know where he lives?"

	"I'll get it out of him somehow." Then, to me, "All right,
pisspot. Get in the car. I'm taking you home."

	"I'm no pissy pop!" I shouted, words slurred together. "And,
wait. I'm say bye to this guy here!" With an immense amount of effort, I
stumbled forward into Michael's arms and attempted to hug him. The ensuing
action was more like a failed football tackle, but Michael simply laughed
as I slammed into his body. As he propped me up, "Might I see your phone
for one second?"

	Jen spoke up from behind me. "Fassy..."

	"Just because he's in a relationship doesn't mean we can't be
friends, Jennifer," he replied smoothly as I handed him my phone. His eyes
met mine for a moment as his fingers clicked away on the keyboard. Within a
minute or so, he slid it back into my pocket which brought his face rather
close to mine. "Nothing wrong with staying in contact with each other, now
is there?"

	I chuckled and placed my hand on his chest, pushing him away
playfully. "You... you are... you're bad. Very naughty, you. Sexy."

	"OKAY! Time to go!" Jen yelled, taking me by the arm and chucking
me into the passenger seat. Within a matter of seconds, I was leaning
against the window on the verge of passing out. I was stirred by Jen
shaking me gently. "All right, Reagan. You've got to give me an address,
buddy. You have to help me get you home."

	I mumbled the address the best I could, but it came out garbled and
incoherent. Jen sighed and held out her hand. "Give me your phone. Or
should I have Michael reach in your pocket and grab it for you?" I gasped
dramatically as I wrestled my phone free. "That... you... was
bitchy. Super. Totally."

	"God, I should be recording this for blackmail."

	She held the phone up to her ear and waited. As she made an unknown
call, I blacked out, face pressed unceremoniously against the window.

--

	I awoke sluggishly, my head pounding and my eyes hyper sensitive to
the light of the room. After a few minutes adjusting, I was mildly
surprised to see that I was curled up on the couch instead of the bed. I
moved to cover my eyes and found my hand blocked. I looked to my right and
saw Channing sitting on the floor asleep, my arm wrapped around his
shoulders. His head was tilted back awkwardly against my stomach as he
snoozed. My anger was momentarily dissipated as I saw the items on the
table in front of him: an open pack of ibuprofen, a large, empty bottle of
water, a plate of half-eaten toast.

	I put the pieces together. Jen had used my phone to call
Channing. He had probably carried me into the house and taken care of
me. Although, why I was on the couch, I had no clue.

	I shifted my weight which caused Channing to snap awake. He rubbed
his eyes groggily as he turned to me. I gave him a small smile, the tension
of the prior night's argument pervading the air. "Hi."

	"Hey. How ya feeling?"

	I grunted. "Like I won't be drinking for a while. What the hell did
I do?"

	"Well, according to Jen, you had more martinis than she had ever
seen anyone drink in such a short period of time. Then, you got into her
car and passed out, so she called me to get directions. By the time she got
you here, it took both of us to wake you up and get you inside. I tried to
take you upstairs, but..." He paused, a sad look on his face. "But, you
said you didn't want to sleep in the same room as me."

	I felt sick and it wasn't the hangover. I couldn't believe I had
said something so cruel, especially when Channing was trying to help
me. When I began to apologize, he cut me off. "No, babe, you were right. I
was wrong for yelling at you and I was wrong for not letting you know what
Naina and I were talking about. I just wanted to protect you and fix
everything and not stress you out, but I did the exact opposite. I'm
sorry. I really am. And, I can understand if you need more time to cool
down."

	There was no way I could hold the grudge any longer. I moved to
lean in and kiss him, but he recoiled. "No way. As much as I would totally
love to kiss you, I had to watch you puke for half an hour and pass out
without brushing."

	"Fuck. I was that bad?"

	"It was like The Exorcist."

	"Fantastic."

	I peeled myself off of the couch and made a beeline for the
bathroom. I was horrified by the image in the mirror. My hair was pointing
in every direction, held in place by god knows how much hair product. My
eyes were so bloodshot that I looked like I had pinkeye. Add to that the
pillow lines streaking my face and the crust of drool on my cheek. I looked
like a real keeper.

	I washed my face, brushed my teeth and did my best to tame my hair
before heading back downstairs. Channing was folding up the blanket from
the couch, but stopped and took me into his arms as soon as he saw me. Our
lips met tenderly, a feeling that I had missed even in the short time we
had been apart.

	As we made our way into the kitchen, Channing said something that
jogged my fuzzy memory from the night before. "So, your phone has been
going off all day. Who is Michael?"

	"Oh, that's Michael Fassbender. You know, was in X-Men with
Jen. Played Magneto."

	"Ah. And, he's texting you because..."

	"Look, all we did was make out for a little bit and now he's all
clingy."

	"WHAT?!"

	I couldn't help but laugh in Channing's stunned face, which made my
head pound. But, his reaction was completely worth the temporary pain. "I'm
kidding, Channing. He hung out with Jen and I and said we should meet up is
all."

	"So, you didn't-,"

	"No, I did NOT make out with him. Feel free to ask Jen or one of
the other hundreds of people that saw us last night." Channing squared his
jaw and sighed, annoyed. "If I hadn't just apologized for being as ass, I
would cuss you the fuck out. You and these damn jokes of yours." I
approached him and slid my arms around his stomach, drawing us
together. After contemplating me for a moment, he wrapped me in his own
strong limbs. "You know that I wouldn't do anything like that," I
said. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And, I wouldn't
screw that up for some one-night stand."

	Channing kissed my forehead. "I know you wouldn't, babe. And, you
know that I'm glad you're here. Even if I don't always act like it, you
know? I mean... you know we've gotten close and everything. Well, closer
since we came to L.A. And, I trust you. You know that, right? I mean, I
know you do. I just figured-,"

	"Channing. You're rambling."

	He sighed heavily. "Sorry. It's just... it's hard for me to say
this, not in a bad way or anything, but... just knowing if it's... the
timing is always... fuck." There was another sigh as I looked on
confusedly. "Reagan. I... I love you. And, I want you to know that, okay?"
My heart jumped in my chest. Sure, I had possibly heard those words one
drunken night before, but Channing had just said them to my face. With full
intent. And, he meant all three syllables.

	And, without hesitation, I looked him in his eyes and, with just as
much meaning, said, "I love you, too."

--------------------------------------------------

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