RockStarPeach

 Okay, so random fic is random!  I just got this idea and it sort of ended up in a different place than I wanted it to, but hey.  RPS is just an excuse to slap the faces of pretty boys onto original fic :)

Title:  Here He Comes Again

Rating:  R

Pairing:  Jensen/Jared, unrequited Misha/Jared, a buttload of Jensen/Misha friendship

Summary:  AU.  Misha’s in love.  Again.  Jensen doesn’t think anything of it until he meets the most recent object of his friend’s affections, and then Jensen might be a little in love, too.

Word count: 4,900

***

The front door to his house opens and Jensen barely flinches, just narrows his eyes slightly and focuses harder on the spreadsheet in front of him.  Only one person besides him has the key, and the budget he’s looking at is off by seven thousand, eight hundred and forty-two dollars and sixteen cents, and he can’t figure out why.

It’s not a lot of money, not even enough that his boss will notice, given the size of the company, but it’s off and Jensen can’t let that go.  Not even if it was off by a penny.  Thousands of people are counting on this budget to be accurate, even if they’ll never see it, and Jensen likes for things to be in place.

He hears footsteps down his front hall, then hears his refrigerator open and close.  He sees a figure fall into the couch on the opposite side of his living room and he hears a dreamy sigh and rolls his eyes.  He can guess what’s coming next.

“I’m in love,” Misha says, and Jensen can see him flop back into the couch cushions out of the corner of his eye.  His voice sounds wistful and far away, his body looks relaxed, and Jensen is almost jealous.

Sometimes he thinks it would be nice to be able to feel things the way Misha does.  Then he remembers that Misha is kind of a flake and Jensen is perfectly happy playing hit and run.  He hasn’t allowed himself to feel anything for anyone in a long time and he likes it that way.

“Already?” he snorts, not even bothering to look up as he crosses out a line on the sheet of paper in front of him and redoes some mental arithmetic.  “It’s only Tuesday.” 

Misha typically falls in love once a week.  Usually on a Thursday or Friday, when Jensen is dragged out to bar or a club or a sporting event or a fucking grocery store, to watch Misha meet the next love of his life.  Most of the time the relationship lasts the weekend, heats up fast and crashes hard, and Misha spends the first two or three days of the work week nursing his broken heart.

Misha smiles as Jensen finally looks up at him, a wide, lazy smile as his fingers play over the beer bottle in his hand.

“I met him at the theatre tonight, you know the one on 9^th and Simcoe?”

Jensen nods.  He remembers Misha telling him he was going to a movie tonight with Mark.  Jensen liked Mark.  He’d lasted a couple of days longer than most of Misha’s boyfriends.

“He runs the projector.    He’s gorgeous and funny and he puts double butter on his popcorn.”

Jensen gags a little as Misha takes a drink from the bottle.  Jensen likes his popcorn plain but Misha likes to douse it in as much butter as he can get his hands on.  And speaking of popcorn, Jensen’s getting kind of hungry.  If Misha keeps talking he might have to go make some.

 “Tuesday’s my favourite day of the week,” Misha goes on and Jensen adds beer to the list of things he’ll need if this conversation goes on much longer.  “I think I’ll marry him on a Tuesday.  Maybe one year from today.  That’s romantic gold, right?”

“One year from today won’t actually be a Tuesday,” Jensen feels the need to point out, and then feels like an ass when Misha deflates, pouts a little and slouches.

“But yeah,” he goes on.  “That… Well, your boyfriend at the time might not like it, but yeah.  I guess that’s pretty romantic.”

Misha’s smile turns placating and he leans slightly forward.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Jensen snickers and shakes his head.  Misha has been truly and completely, head over heals, forever and ever in love with approximately one hundred and eighty people since they’ve known each other.

Sometimes he takes the guy home and they don’t leave the bedroom until they break up a few days later, and sometimes the guy doesn’t even know Misha exists and Misha just worships from afar until he realises the guy has a wife or is a monk or something.  Most often it’s somewhere in between, where Misha gets to at least take him out for dinner before they realise their epic love will never get off the ground.

Jensen has learned to make it a point to stock up on Tequila.

They needed a whole lot of it the day the two of them slept together, four hours after they met over morning coffee at the shop down the block, and Misha professed his undying love.  Then Misha found out that Jensen preferred Tim Burton’s Planet of the Apes to the original and spent two hours moping over what could have been, while Jensen thanked his lucky stars that the crazy guy he’d just fucked had stopped proposing. 

Misha was over it by the time Jensen cooked him supper and fed him twelve shots, and they spent the rest of the weekend together, drunk and happy, full of pizza and Thai, and Jensen’s old Atari had never seen so much action.

A month later, Misha had a key and Jensen had a new best friend.

“No,” Jensen agrees, quirking a sad grin.  “Me and my cold, black heart could never understand love.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Misha protests, but Jensen cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“Relax, Misha.  I know what you meant.  And I’m happy for you.  I’m sure you and the new Mrs will have millions of pretty babies.”

Misha answers Jensen’s smile with a humouring one of his own.

“I mean it this time, Jensen.  He’s the one, I can tell.”

***

Misha spends the night in Jensen’s guest room.  He does it so often that the closet is full of Misha’s clothes.  Hell, half the stuff in the kitchen is Misha’s too, and Jensen wonders why he even bothers to pay rent on his own apartment.  He’s still sleeping when Jensen leaves for work in the morning and he’s watching a documentary on World War II when Jensen gets home.  He wonders not for the first time how Misha manages to hold down his job as head of Parks and Rec for the city of Boca Raton when he only shows up for work when the mood strikes.

Misha spends the next two nights at his house too, and when Jensen gets home on Friday and he can hear the television blaring as soon as he opens the door. He takes a breath and gets ready to tell his best friend to get the fuck out.

Because Jensen loves Misha, really he does, but he also loves his alone time.  He might want to bring someone home one of these days.  He doesn’t, but he might.

“Dude, what the fuck are you still doing here?”

He watches Misha pout as he rounds the corner into the kitchen and sees and smells the wide spread of food.  Spaghetti with meatballs, garlic bread, salad.  Nothing fancy but it looks fucking fantastic and Jensen sits down across from Misha and eagerly piles the bounty onto his plate.

“I mean…” Jensen backpedals as he takes a huge bite of the garlic bread and moans in pleasure.  “Shouldn’t you be off planning your wedding?”

“About that,” Misha says, smiling again as he twirls some noodles around his fork.  “I’m going to need your help.”

“I’m not letting you chain someone up in my basement,” Jensen tells him, pointing a forkful of tomato at his friend.  “Last time was a fucking nightmare.”  Jensen hadn’t been there.  He’d been away with his boyfriend at the time, ski weekend in Colorado, but when he’d gotten home there’d been one Hell of a mess.

“Oh, come on,” Misha protests.  “He didn’t even press charges.  In fact he loved it.”  He smirks and his eyes shine and Jensen can tell he’s mentally reliving some very fond memories.

Jensen rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue.  The guy had loved it, if what Misha told him afterwards was even remotely true.  And Jensen had needed a professional cleaning crew to come in after.  Fucking Misha and his kinky lovers making a mess of Jensen’s rec room.

“So, what do you need me for?”

“Jared’s playing hard to get.”

“And Jared is… your intended?”

“Mmm,” Misha hums and closes his eyes as he breathes a heavy sigh.  “Yeah.  Tonight is his first night off since we met and he shot me down when I asked him to dinner.  I’m pretty sure I can’t marry him if he won’t even have dinner with me.  Can I?”

Jensen laughs.  “Probably not.”

“We made plans to meet up tonight, go dancing, have a few drinks.  Not a date, because he’s bringing a friend, so I have to bring you.  No pressure, no expectations.  Then I can get him drunk and take advantage of him.”

Jensen coughs a little on his bite of salad and takes a drink from the bottle of beer in front of him.  “Dude,” he says.  “You’d never take advantage of anyone.”

“Maybe not,” Misha agrees sadly.  “But I know he’ll change his mind eventually.  He has to.  He’s the one.”

***

He’s not the one.

Jensen knows that the second he sees Jared. 

Not the one for Misha, anyway.

Jensen’s never believed in love at first sight, still doesn’t, but Jared’s almost enough for him to make an exception.  Misha was right; he’s fucking perfect.

He’s tall, stupid floppy hair bouncing all over the place as he bops to the music in a ridiculous parody of dancing.  He’s beautiful, like Misha said, and Jensen’s eyes lock on him when Misha points him out across the dance floor. 

Jensen wants to fuck him.  It’s pretty much the first thought he has when he sees him, dancing with a friend of his, shorter and muscled with jet black hair.  They make a delicious, nearly pornographic picture of wet dream perfection and if Jared wasn’t the most perfect specimen of manhood that Jensen has ever seen he’d be all over that friend. 

But Jared is… fuck, there aren’t really words.  His arms, toned and tanned and waving around all bare and gorgeous, and his legs, thick and long and wrapped tight in dark denim.  His stomach, rippled and inviting and Jesus fucking Christ, his ass.

Not to mention how Goddamn pretty his face is.

Shit.

Jensen wants to cross the room and push him to his knees right here, wants to see those pretty lips wrapped around his dick and then he wants to bend him over, fuck him from behind until they both have bruises from the tile floor and Jared’s been pounded so hard he can’t fucking walk anymore.

But, Misha’s in love.  At least until Monday.  So Jensen lets it go.

Jared looks up and waves at them when he catches sight of Misha and Misha grabs Jensen by the elbow, leads him across the floor.

Misha’s arms wrap around Jared’s hips and Jared lets him press a sloppy kiss to his lips before he laughs and pulls back and the four of them start to dance together.  The music is shit but it’s sweaty, hot and Jensen spends as much time plastered to Jared as he does to Misha so it’s not all bad.  In fact it’s sexy as Hell and he’s more than half hard.  Only about fifty percent of that is due to Jared (who is a gigantic flirt and knows exactly what he’s been doing to Jensen for the past half hour) and he’s a little embarrassed that his dick sometimes reacts to Misha’s presence without talking it through with the rest of him first.

Misha feels the evidence of his arousal against his hip and smirks at him, kisses him on the neck and grabs his ass.

“Sorry sailor,” he says into Jensen’s ear to be heard over the music.  “My heart belongs to another.”

Jensen just grunts and pushes Misha away.  He’s ready to grab Jared’s friend, who he’s affectionately dubbed ‘Shorty’, and do all the things he’s been imagining doing to Jared.  Because Christ, he needs to get laid.  Yesterday.

But then Misha decides he needs a drink and Shorty agrees, so they take off for the bar and Jensen and Jared stay put.

Things are awkward for about five seconds as they watch their friends walk off and wonder what’s appropriate in a situation like this, given they’ve never even spoken and their degree of separation has left them alone.  It doesn’t take Jared long to pick up the beat though, turn around and grind his ass against Jensen’s crotch.

Jensen fucking hates Misha right now.

“I’m Jared,” Jared tells him, turning his head up and back so that Jensen’s face is forced into his neck.  Sneaky bastard does not play fair.

Jensen chuckles and shakes his head, pushes Jared forward a little even though he wants nothing more than to pull him close. 

“I know,” Jensen tells him, puts a hand on his hip to keep him at arms length and starts to move, gets them into a rhythm and dancing together in a way that Misha won’t kill him for later.

“Does my fame proceed me?” Jared asks with a flirty flutter of his eyelashes.

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to be the best man in your wedding.”

“What?” Jared asks and pulls away from Jensen, turns and looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Misha…” Jensen starts, but doesn’t know how to finish.  Jared doesn’t know Misha.  He doesn’t know what it means to be the object of Misha’s infatuation.  “He… has a thing.  For you.”

Yeah, that’s not exactly the whole story.  But really, how can he explain Misha to someone who doesn’t know him?

“Well,” Jared answers and slinks closer, plasters his body against Jensen’s and smiles again.  “I don’t have a thing for him.  He knows that.  You, however…”

Jared looks him up and down with a lascivious smirk and Jensen knows he’s evil.  Sexy and evil and Jensen hates him for a split second because it’s not fucking fair.

“Dude,” Jensen whines, groans low in his throat and bites his lip.  “I would normally be all over this.  Trust me.  But Misha is my best friend.  And my dick doesn’t go anywhere his does.  Sorry.” 

He gently pushes Jared away again and looks him over regretfully.

Jared barks out a sharp laugh and Jensen’s eyes narrow.

“Dude, me and Misha haven’t fucked.  And we won’t.  He’s a great guy, but I’m just not into him like that.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jensen says, shaking his head and trying to ignore Jared as his hand wanders over Jensen’s side.  “He’s into you.  That makes you off limits.”

“Jensen…”

Jensen barely has time to wonder how Jared knows his name before Misha and Shorty are back.

Jensen backs off, lets Misha wrap himself around Jared and a few minutes later he discreetly angles Shorty into the men’s room for a quick blow job.  It’s not even close to what he needs, but at least it takes the edge off.

He feels like a heel when him and Misha fall asleep next to each other in his bed and he listens to his friend tell him all about the flowers he’s picked out for the wedding in his mind, because they’ll match Jared’s eyes.

His phone goes off a half hour after Misha has passed out and he doesn’t even wonder how Jared got his number.  He deletes the text without looking at it.

Misha’s still in love.

***

Jensen heads into work on Saturday morning, leaving Misha still asleep in his bed.  He’s curled up into almost a ball, tucking a pillow in against his stomach and he’s lucky he’s so fucking cute because Jensen is about one inappropriate erection away from stealing his non-boyfriend. 

He doesn’t really want to work on the weekend, doesn’t even have to really, but a couple of hours do wonders for his peace of mind and he comes back home with a workable budget and a great attitude.

“It didn’t work,” Misha tells him while they eat the take-out Jensen brought home and drink the rum punch Misha made for them.  “Jared still doesn’t want me.”

“As tragic as that is, it’s been known to happen,” Jensen says.  He’s not planning on calling Jared, but at least maybe now he won’t feel so guilty when he jerks off in the shower thinking about him.  “Let’s head out tonight.  Get drunk and pick up hot guys.”

“No,” Misha says, shaking his head.  “Not yet.”

“But…”

“You can’t stop true love, Jensen.  He’ll come around.  I need one more shot.  I invited him over here tonight, with his friend.  You can fuck off to your room with Ken after a while, and…”

“Ken?  Is that his name?” Jensen asks with a frown and assumes he’s talking about Jared’s friend from last night, the one who gives horrible head.  Misha rolls his eyes.

“Seriously.  You’re more of a slut than I am, man.  Yes, that’s his name.”

“I… I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Misha.”

“Oh, come on,” Misha wheedles and scooches closer to him on the couch, rests his head on Jensen’s shoulder and blinks up at him.  “He can’t be that bad in bed.  And he’s hot.  Take one for the team!”

“Misha…”

“Seriously, Jensen,” he says, and he actually does sound serious.  “I know I say this all the time, but Jared really is special.  Please.”

He wants to say something, wants to tell Misha he’s a horrible choice for a wingman on this one because he wants to fuck the target.  But he doesn’t.  Because he sucks.

He sighs and kisses the top of Misha’s head before jabs a piece of lemon chicken with a fork and places it in his mouth.

“Yeah,” he says after he swallows.  “Yeah, okay.”

***

The night does not go according to plan.

Well, maybe it goes according to Jared’s plan, who still seems to have his sights set on Jensen.  Because once they’re all buzzed on wine and Jensen asks Ken if he’d like to come to his room to see his stamp collection, Jared is the first one to jump up and agree. 

“That sounds great, Jensen,” he says, with a big dorky smile, even though Jensen very pointedly asked only Ken.  “I love stamps!”

Of course he fucking does.  Christ.  Jensen doesn’t even have a stamp collection and that was very obviously a line.  What the fuck is he going to do now?  He looks at Misha helplessly and Misha just shrugs.

Great.  Fucking great.

“Actually, I…” he starts and looks around for an excuse.  “I need more wine.  Anybody else?”

***

They get steadily drunker as the night progresses.

Misha slides closer and closer to Jared on one of the couches, and he eventually ends up with one of his legs hooker over one of Jared’s.  Jared laughs and removes the offending limb, sliding Misha over a few feet.

“You don’t give up, do you?” he asks, but it’s friendly and light and even though he can see the resignation and sorrow in Misha’s eyes he knows Misha won’t be able to be angry.  Who the Hell could be angry with Jared when he looks so fucking adorable?

He knows the exact moment Misha gives up hope, and his heart almost breaks along side.  It’s when Jared pats him on the knee and then catches Jensen’s eye.  The heat in that look is enough to make Jensen’s heart trip over in his chest and all available blood rush to his cock.

Misha sees it.  His eyes water and his mouth pulls into a tight frown before he shakes it off and smiles sadly, excuses himself for a moment and comes back with a bottle of tequila, four shot glasses and a couple of wedged up limes.

Jensen knows how this goes and he casts his friend an apologetic glance.

Misha cocks his head, what can you do?, sits on the floor between Jensen’s legs so that Jensen’s knees frame his shoulders and he can reach the table more easily in order to pour, and they proceed to get completely shitfaced as Misha mends his broken heart.

***

Jensen’s lost track of the time.  It’s late though and Jared and Ken are much too drunk to go home so he sets them up on the couches and Misha crashes in the guest room.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen says when he awkwardly hugs Misha goodnight.  They’re swaying slightly in the doorway and Misha’s hands are creeping towards his ass.  “That it didn’t work out.  I know you… Anyway, I’m sorry.”

“I’ll pull through,” Misha promises.  “Plenty of fish in the sea, right?”

He doesn’t sound like he means it, but that might just be because he’s wasted.  Misha falls in love fast and he gets over it almost as quick.  He’ll be fine, Jensen knows he will, but he feels like shit because he still really wants to fuck Jared.

And shit, there goes his cock, getting all hard again.  Stupid cock.

He pulls back from Misha and watches as he stumbles to the bed and falls down on it face first, passed out.  He laughs quietly and closes the door before he turns around.  He manages to keep his shout of surprise low enough not to wake Misha up again when he walks straight into Jared’s chest.

“Want to show me your stamp collection,” Jared asks and waggles his eyebrows in an exaggerated gesture that only makes him look drunker than he is.

“I don’t have a fucking stamp collection,” Jensen growls and pushes past him towards his own room.

“Want to show me something else then?” Jared asks as he follows him, closing Jensen’s bedroom door behind them.

“Seriously, Jared,” Jensen says, sighing tiredly and rubbing a hand over his face.  “Go sleep it off.  We can’t, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Because Misha’s in love with you and Ken sucked my dick last night!” Jensen shouts and they both flinch at the volume of his words.

“He did?” Jared pouts and it’s so fucking cute that Jensen wants to take Jared’s bottom lip between his teeth and suck.  So he does.

He pushes Jared up against the wall and clamps his teeth down lightly over Jared’s lip, nibbles and teases it and sucks it gently into his own mouth.  Jared moans and bucks his hips up against Jensen’s and Jensen’s hands go the back of Jared’s neck, squeeze and hold him still so that Jensen can deepen the kiss.

Not that Jared’s trying to get away.  Fuck, his hands are around Jensen’s waist and he’s gripping him so hard Jensen’s going to have bruises as he lets Jensen claim his mouth, harsh and demanding.

Jensen pushes closer and feels the hard outline of Jared’s cock against his own and Jared gasps.

“Jensen,” he whispers as Jensen breaks away from his mouth to kiss under his chin and along his neck.  “Fuck yes.  Want you so bad.  God, how do I feel this way?  I don’t even know you and I’m never like this.  Never.”

Jensen gets it.  Feels the exact same way.  What the fuck is it about Jared that’s making him suck deep, bruising kisses into the hollow of his neck while he walks them both towards his bed?

He shouldn’t want this.  He sure as shit shouldn’t be doing this.  This is the man that until a few hours ago his best friend was certain he was going to marry.  Jensen doesn’t do this.  He’s never done this, never been with anyone Misha has ever been interested in, no matter how tempted he’s been.  And he’s been tempted a time or two.

He doesn’t forget about Misha, or about Ken, who Jensen knows isn’t interested in him beyond the awkward bathroom sex they’d shared, but the guy is still sleeping in his living room and he’s Jared’s friend and the whole situation is just so fucked up.

He doesn’t forget about either of them as he and Jared fall to the bed together, kiss and suck and rut against each other as they strip.  He thinks of Misha’s broken heart and the look on his face as Jared wraps his legs around Jensen’s waist and he thinks of Misha’s sad eyes when he pushes inside and Jared’s tight heat engulfs him.

They’re drunk and sloppy and they trade heated kisses as they try to find a rhythm and can’t quite get there.  It takes Jensen fucking forever to come.  Jared’s dick is nearly raw from where Jensen keeps jerking it even though he came about twenty minutes ago and when Jensen finally finishes it’s with a huge sigh of relief and not very much satisfaction.

It’s pretty much the worst first time in the history of sex.

Because throughout the whole thing Jensen can’t stop thinking of Misha and how he’s betraying him.  How he’s halfway to in love with the person Misha’s in love with, can’t get enough of him even though Jensen and Jared have barely even had one conversation.  The sex sucked ass (and not in the good way) and still Jensen wants to see him again, so it must be love.  Or at least something like it.

When it’s over he wants to tell Jared that this was a mistake, that it can’t happen again but Jared kisses him.  Keeps on kissing him until they pass out with Jared’s long limbs still wrapped around him and Jensen still buried inside.

***

When Jensen wakes up Sunday morning the pounding in his head is slightly lessened due to the gentle fingers stroking over his temples and he melts into the warmth below him for a split second before memories of last night come flooding in and he jerks back, sits up and makes a mad grab to the floor for his boxers.

“Fuck,” he says as he puts them on and notices that his dick is still sticky.  Sticky and bare.  “Fuck.  We didn’t even use protection.  Shit, I’m sorry, I’m… I’m clean, I swear, but I never forget that shit.  Never.  I don’t know what I was thinking.  I…”

“Jensen,” Jared says, stopping his rambling with a hand on his shoulder.  “I forgot too, okay?  And I haven’t been with anyone since I last got tested, so relax.”

“Relax,” Jensen snorts and shakes his head, goes to his dresser and pulls on a pair of track pants as Jared starts to put on his clothes from yesterday.  “That’s fucking hilarious.  Relax.  I just fucked my best friend’s boyfriend.  I don’t think relax is good advice right now.”

“Jensen, calm the fuck down,” Jared tells him when he’s dressed again and he walks over to Jensen and kisses him.  Which actually does a pretty good job of relaxing him, all things considered, and he feels guilty all over again.

“Misha’s a big boy.  He knows I never liked him like that and he’ll get over it.  He wouldn’t want you to pass up a chance at love just because it didn’t work out for him, would he?”

No.  Of course Misha wouldn’t.

Still, he knows he should never see Jared again.  He should kiss him goodbye and lose his number and spend the next however long it takes making this up to Misha.  Because he’s going to tell him.  He has to.  He can’t keep something like this from him, even if this thing with Jared never really turns into a thing at all.

But instead of cutting Jared out of his life he follows him to the front door, says yes when Jared makes him promise to call.  They both notice that Ken seems to be gone, probably woke up earlier and stumbled his way into a taxi, Jared jokes.  So Jensen kisses him, long and thorough at the door while Jared puts on his jacket and when he drives away Jensen still doesn’t know whether he’s actually going to call or not.

He needs to talk to Misha first.  And if Misha’s not okay with it he’s never going to see Jared again, even though it will kill him.  He can’t hurt his friend any more than he already has.

An hour later Jensen is on his fourth cup of coffee and he’s pushing cold pancakes around on his plate when the guest bedroom door opens and Misha comes out.  Jensen opens his mouth to confess his sins but then chokes on his tongue when he realises Misha’s not alone.

He’s holding Ken’s hand, tugging him down the hall and through the living room.  Jensen can’t see the front door from the kitchen table but he hears murmured words, some quiet laughter, and it’s a good five minutes before Misha joins him in the kitchen.  He pulls out the chair across from Jensen and smiles a lazy, sated smile as he snags the fork out of Jensen’s fingers and stabs a piece of pancake, dragging it through the syrup before he happily stuffs it into his mouth.

Jensen snaps his mouth shut and tilts his head, looks at Misha like he’s expecting an explanation.  Misha and Ken?  He had not seen that coming.

“Mish?”

“I’m in love,” Misha answers, but it’s not in that same dreamy voice he always gets when he meets someone new.  It’s different, lower and more sober and Jensen somehow knows that this time he really means it.  Misha’s been in love hundreds of times, but this is the first time Jensen thinks it might actually work out.

“Oh thank God,” Jensen says on a heavy exhale and pushes his plate across the table to give Misha better access.  Jensen’s not hungry anyway.  “Because I think I am, too.”

END