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Damien's already bad, horrible, no-good day only became worse when he entered his apartment only to find Charlie and Joanne lounging naked on the couch in obvious afterglow.

Well, if that wasn't just the thing he wanted to see after a fourteen-hour work day. Fucking audits. He'd spent the last three weeks working overtime to make sure everything was in order and he'd still wound up with an eleven-point list of things to fix or else. Three weeks of not being home for dinner, three weeks of being out the door before dawn, three weeks of neglecting his relationship, three weeks without sex, and now he only had even more of that to look forward to. So to be confronted with the post-coital pair was really just the insult his injury had lacked.

"Don't mind me," he snapped, slamming the door shut and walking towards the kitchen. "I'll be out of your hair in a minute, so feel free to carry on."

"Christ, Damien!" He looked around to see his boyfriend scramble off the couch and grab his trousers. "We didn't expect you home yet!"

"Obviously." Damien almost got frostbite from his own tone. He turned back to resume his walk, only to be stopped by a pair of arms around his waist.

"Aw, baby, don't be like that," Charlie cajoled, nuzzling his neck. "We were just passing the time until you came home. You've been so busy lately. I missed you."

"Really? Because from where I stood, it sure didn't seem like you've missed me." Damien struggled free and walked into the kitchen, where he stood gaping for a minute. What the -

"What the fuck did you do to my kitchen?" he raged, "Isn't it enough to fuck on the couch? You had to destroy the fucking kitchen as well?" That was it. He was packing his bags and never coming back. He was going to grow a beard, change his name and let others deal with all kitchen and audit related messes while he sipped cocktails on some tropical beach, surrounded by pretty people.

"Um..." Joanne joined them in the doorway, dressed in a Hello Kitty tank top and boxer shorts that Damien recognised as his own. "We were baking you cookies. You know, because you've had such a rough time at work lately and we wanted to cheer you up."

"Yeah," Charlie enthusiastically chimed in, "We even used my mum's recipe for chocolate cookies because they're your favourite!" He nudged Damien with his elbow, apparently in an attempt to transfer some of his enthusiasm. Damien just glared at him. "Right, um," Charlie faltered, "only, you know how messy Jo can be," "Hey!" Joanne protested, but Charlie just kept on talking, "and she got positively covered in chocolate and, um..." "And you know how much Charlie loves his chocolate, so we got sidetracked a little," Joanne finished, smirking at the both of them.

Damien failed to see the humour.

"I don't want to talk to either of you right now." He slammed the kitchen door in their worried faces.

An hour later, the kitchen was clean and Damien was drinking his fourth glass of wine while the smell of chocolate cookies filled the room. The living room had been suspiciously silent, but Damien really didn't want to think about what that meant. A knock on the door interrupted his peace.

"Damy, sweetheart? Are you alright in there?" Joanne. Bitch. "We, um, we cleaned the couch. I'm sorry, we forgot how much stains on the couch freak you out."

Damien drained his glass and poured another one.

"Damien? Can I come in?"

Maybe he should drink a little slower.


"Damy, you're worrying me. Can I..."

"Screw this," Charlie's voice cut in, "Move aside, Jo."

Charlie only barely dodged the half full glass that was hurtled at his head as he came in. Damien stared at the stain on the wall morosely. That was going to be hell to clean up; they would probably have to repaint.

"Jesus Christ, Damien! What the hell is wrong with you?" Charlie flopped into a chair next to Damien. He looked at the nearly empty bottle of wine. "Ah. Well, okay. No more wine for you, mister. I think you've had quite enough." The bastard even wagged his finger.

Damien frowned at him.

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Joanne said, carefully stepping over the broken glass. "Pouting and throwing tantrums when things don't go your way are not attractive."

It took great effort not to strangle her on the spot. Unaware of how close to death she had been, Joanne took the seat facing his.

"So," she chirped with artificial cheer, "tell us about your day! How did the audit go?" Great. Just the thing he wanted to talk about.

"It was a total clusterfuck, is how it went!" He stood up and started pacing. "I've spent the last three weeks chasing after everyone, telling them time and time again to fix shit, to make sure everything was in line with protocol and they swore up and down that they would and then fucking corporate comes in and gives me shit and a list of eleven points, eleven fucking points we have to improve on, nine of which I was promised were fixed and now I have a month to get everything done which I will probably have to do by myself because those incompetent fuckers I work with obviously can't be trusted to do it and then I come home and find out the two of you have been fucking while I was too busy to put out and the kitchen looks as if a bomb went off and I'm so fucking tired and..."

His pacing was rudely interrupted by Charlie, who stepped in front of him and pulled him into a hug.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry," he murmured into Damien's hair. "I knew things were rough on you, but I didn't know they were this rough. I'm sorry you had such a bad day."

Another pair of arms snaked around his waist as Joanne pressed herself into his back. Resting her head between his shoulder blades she said, "I'm sorry too, sweetie. You know we're here for you, right? And I'm sorry we had fun without you. You want us to wait for you until things get back to normal at work?"

Ignoring the sound of protest Charlie made at that, Damien covered her hands with his.

"Thanks, Jo, but it's okay. I was just so frustrated. You know I love you both, don't you?"

He paused.

"Well, crap. That's the wine talking. I mean, I do, but Jesus. Can you say 'sap'?"

Two sets of arms tightened around him, until his entire world consisted of warm, welcoming bodies.

"Love you too." It was Joanne who said it, but Charlie's arms tightened even more, signalling his agreement.

"You're taking tomorrow off," Charlie stated. Damien started to protest, but Joanne cut him off.

"No, Damy," she said, "Charlie's right. Tomorrow's Saturday and your work can fuck right off, we're pretending it's the weekend. I know you, so I know you already did an extensive post-mortem with your team. They can deal without you for one day. Maybe even two. You're exhausted, baby, and we missed you. Besides, you'll perform better at work when you're rested."

"So why don't you take a shower while Jo and I put those cookies out to cool," Charlie suggested. "Then, we're taking you to bed and you're not coming out until Monday. After all," he twinkled at Damien, "we're going to need a nice memory to help us get through the next couple of weeks. You know, since we're going to be waiting for you and all."

Standing in his cookie-scented kitchen, squashed between his partners and more than a little buzzed, Damien's bad, horrible, no-good day made a turn for the better.