A/N Right. So... This is kind of a sequel to "Just Friends", except it's really just a bunch of one-shots. They're not in order. Some are before JF, some after, some during, and they switch point of view in every chapter. Still Bob Marley songs, though.

Ah, and because someone will notice and ask, no, "Johnny Was" has nothing to do with anything. It's just another Bob Marley song that reminds me of Just Friends...

Enjoy, I hope.

Chapter Notes: Eleven years after Just Friends. Friday and Adrian central.

Chapter Summary: Friday comes home from a hard day at work, and is cheered up by his boyfriend and best friend. Separately. Hmm.

Chapter One: Rasta Man Chant

I say fly away home to Zion (fly away home);
I say fly away home to Zion (fly away home).
One bright morning when my work is over,
Man will fly away home.

-- Bob Marley, Rasta Man Chant

Friday

Running one hand backwards through my hair, I slam the door closed behind me. It resounds slightly, clicking into place.

Typical that I'd win. Typical that I'd win the one time that I know I'm wrong. I hate my job.

"Dri?" I call out, slipping off my coat and throwing it over the back of the couch. "You in?"

He appears in the doorway to the kitchen, wearing my tie-dyed apron, blonde hair a mess on his head. "Hey, Friday," he says, smiling awkwardly, as if he wasn't expecting me home in time to catch him in the act of cooking.

"What's for dinner?" I ask, as he quickly removes the apron.

"Vegetable curry and--" I cut him off with a kiss. It's hard not to, he looks so adorable, all flustered and embarrassed. He's grinning as he kisses me back, but I'm not, stressed out from the day's work and that God-damned Barry Acorn. I pull away from Adrian quickly and bury my face in his neck. "Hard day at the courthouse? What happened?"

"We won. Just a fine," I admit, face still pressed against the point where his neck becomes his shoulder. "I wish I'd never gotten into this."

Adrian sighs, both hands on my back, keeping me close. "Friday, you're good. It's not your fault that the wrong people hire you. They only do it because you're the best. You're very... persuasive."

I make a quiet noise, comfortable in his arms. It's funny how even after eleven years, being his boyfriend seems completely new to me, and every embrace is important.

He's not going anywhere. I need to toughen up.

"The other love of your life left a message of hysterical laughter, by the way," he tells me, pulling away and planting a quick kiss on the top of my head. "Which reminds me. Why is our answer machine message a list of alarmingly rude adjectives that can describe her mother?"

I snicker, taking a few steps away from him to the answer machine. "Relax. It's not like she likes her mother."

I quickly dial my girl's number, knowing that she'll be working at the bar by now - she always is by the time I get back from work. I listen for her answer machine message. It's the way we communicate; much more fun than just leaving a normal message. Let everyone else be amused (and/or scared) by our conversations.

"Friday, my mother would not fuck a horse. I saw that guy you're defending on the news-- H-O-T. Still on for Saturday? Oh, and, well... You know how I've been your best friend for like, ten years now? You won't wear the faggot hippie flowers, right? I promise I won't wear any leather, too. I'll even get the first round in. Please?" When the machine beeps for me to speak I hang up, and rewind my message to record a new one.

"We're still on for Saturday," I say to the phone, knowing she will understand, even if no one else will. "And Barry Acorn may be guilty of murder and assault, but he could still do better than you."

Adrian calls out from the kitchen, "Tell her I say hi!"

I roll my eyes, because the machine will obviously pick up his words. "Adrian says your mother is a fat crack-smoking fudge-packing horse-fucking bitch-face bitch of a bitch. But I still like you, regardless of his opinion. Love you, Alexa. See you Saturday."

I stop the recording and turn to face Adrian, who is standing in the doorway, looking completely stunned. "Friday," he says, voice full of awe. "You can't say that on our answer machine message. What if Felicia phones? Or Gabriella?"

I shrug. "Why do you care? It's not like I said either of them is a fat crack-smoking fudge-packing horse-fucking bitch-face bitch of a bitch, did I?"

He shakes his head, still looking awed. "You're terrible."

"True," I agree, smiling. "She knows I love her really."

Adrian rolls his eyes, walking back into the kitchen. I follow and lean against the wall, watching him cook. "Sometimes I wonder if you love her more than you love me."

The smile fades from my face as I watch him. His hair is hanging down into his eyes, longer than it's ever been. He says that he feels that the people at the gallery don't really care what his hair looks like, and so he doesn't feel the need to either. He glances back at me, eyes still full of insecurity, though I've been in love with him for fourteen years now. Half of my life.

I push away from the wall and approach him. When he looks back at me I run my fingers against his pale cheek, moving some of the light strands away, watching my light brown fingers contrast with his pale skin. "I love Alexa," I say to him, trying to stay confident, trying to make my voice stay steady. "But I'm in love with you. There's a difference." My mouth curls into a smile as I reach up on my tip-toes to speak into his ear. "I spent all day at the courthouse unable to sit down without wincing. Do you think I'd let Alexa put me in that state?"

A light pink flushes across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, his skin warming near mine. I love making him blush. It reminds me, every time, of why I fell in love with the boy to begin with.

Because everything that he does, even something as simple as blushing, makes me feel... like this. Impossible to look away. Impossible for anyone else to take his place.

"I love you," he says, lips sliding against my cheek before caressing my lips. When I pull away to smile up at him, eyes meeting, I know. No matter how much I don't belong in court, I belong right here, and that's what matters.

That's why Alexa can be my best friend, now that Adrian is my boyfriend. Because I know that as long as he feels about me the way that I feel about him, nothing in the past is anything, and all that exists is right here, right now.

Right now.

One bright morning when my work is over,
Man will fly away home.
One bright morning when my work is over,
Man will fly away home.
Say one bright morning when my work is over,
Man... will fly away home...

-- Bob Marley, Rasta Man Chant