Yes, it's being updated. Thank you for the many, many prods and pokes.

I'm sorry this chapter is short, but I'm sure Esquirella - poke, poke, nudge, nudge - will forgive me. I hope!

A knock on the door wakes me from my slumber. I pull my wrinkled pair of pants, throw a blanket over Travis, and wander over to see who it is that's disturbing us.

It's Max.

Oh, fucking brilliant.

'Hello Travis,' he greets boredly, a sneer pulling at his upper lip. 'How surprisingto see you here.'

I walk into the hallway and hold the door almost shut behind me. 'Fuck off.'

Max pushes the door open. The move surprises me and I stumble back a little.

'Shut it, you little bastard,' he smirks. 'Travis! Wake up.'

Travis stirs slightly. He opens his eyes, sees Max, and sits bolt upright. He pulls the blankets up to his waist and stares fearfully at his old 'keeper'.

My own gaze shifts from my lover to his adversary, the latter of whom looks smug and satisfied.

'I was just showing Max around,' I bluff. I may be down one point, and at a distinct disadvantage, but I've by no means totally lost control. 'He came to the door and accused me of being a lousy root. I said 'no, I'm not; look I'll show you Travis. I knocked him out, he had that much fun.''

Neither Travis nor Max smiles. Instead, Max grabs my arm, pulls me close to him and snarls at me to fuck off out of here and stop getting in his way.

'Hey, hey, hey,' I reply angrily as I push him away, incensed that he thinks he can come in and stick his poncy little white-collar hands all over me. 'Fuck off, you goddamn arsehole.'

'I'm not leaving until I get what I came for,' he hisses. He picks up my lover's clothes and throws them at him. 'Get dressed.'

'You're not getting anything from either of us unless you were after a flat, fucking refusal.' I inform him, pushing him towards the door. 'Get out of here.'

My response is met with a fist, and I only just manage to duck it in time.

'Travis, get our fucking clothes and get out of here,' I yell, as I jump on Max.

Max crashes to the floor with a thud. I land on top of him, and quickly punch him in the face. Blood pours from his nose, and Max's face pales. He's shocked, but not too shocked to respond, and a few seconds later, I find myself on my back, trying to fight him off.

We start tumbling around the floor, with Travis standing over us, naked and with an armful of clothes, pleading at us to stop. Max screams at him to get his crazy boyfriend away from him, while I yell at him to get the fuck out of here. Both Max and I make, and try to land, as many blows as possible and the floor is soon stained with blood.

'Travis, get the fuck out,' I demand. 'Get the fuck out of here right now.'

He starts crying, and something breaks through my adrenalin-fueled rush and snaps. I grab the nearest thing, which happens to be a large, heavy, book, and smack it against Max's head.

'You fucker,' Max whispers.

I've as good as won, but I don't hang around to see what he's going to do next. I grab Travis, pull him outside, and shut the apartment door.

'Put your clothes on,' I tell him, tearing at his armful of clothing. I grab my shirt and pull it on, before helping Travis get dressed in his own crumpled clothing. Our shoes are inside the apartment, but a quick check of my pockets reveals that I have both my wallet and my phone; everything I need to get us out of here.

I can hear Max walking around the apartment, and I grab Travis' arm. 'Come on. I have a Plan A and a Plan B.'

Travis wipes at his face. 'I can't leave. You've hurt him.'

'Oh, for fuck's sake,' I swear angrily, dragging him up the staircase. 'He came in here to take you awaylike you're just some piece of meat. You can't forgive that. Now shut-up and trust me.'

I hold Travis in my arms as we wait for Max to exit the apartment. He's shaking he's so scared, and it takes everything I can muster not to go downstairs and physically remove that white-collared fucktard from my boyfriend's home.

After fifteen minutes, Max opens the door to the apartment, looks around cautiously, before straightening his tie and sauntering out. The bastard, I think angrily. He's not interested in Travis; he's interested in making sure nobody sees him.

A part of me wishes that somebody would see him. I wouldn't mind seeing the sucker get caught out red-handed and forced to face the shameful response he deserves. The other part of me is grateful that Travis' neighbours are either not at home, deaf, or simply don't give a shit. I don't need to go getting myself deported.

'Come on,' I tell him, when I'm confident Max has left the building. I veritably push him down the stairs, before yanking him into the apartment and slamming the door behind us.

Travis falls to the floor and starts sobbing.

'Shit,' I remark, rather unnecessarily.

'Ouch. Ouch. Ouch, ouch, OUCH Travis! Leave me alone, I'm fine.'

He hugs me. 'I'm so glad you're alive.'

I pat his arm. 'Yes. Yes, I was at great risk of being beaten to death by that prick.'

Okay, so maybe I didn't fare that well in my fight with Max. Maybe there were a few moments when it looked like I was going to get my butt kicked. And maybe I did yell like a maniac during my two minute melee. But overall, I won, and now that I've won, I need to be manly again.

When I express these thoughts to Travis, he bursts into laughter.

'Manly?' he screeches. 'You're squealing like a baby because I'm putting ointment in a cut.'

'Am not,' I blatantly lie. Yep, you got it, Max scratched me. The pussy; I could have kneed him in the nuts about a million times during our brawl, and not once did I sink to fighting dirty. Well, unless you count clobbering him over the head with a book, but I only did that because Travis was upset.

Travis, who is smiling his first smile in approximately six hours, crawls into my lap and cuddles me. 'I love you.'

'I love you, too.'

'I'm glad you didn't let me go back inside to him.'

'Me too. Man, you're soft. In a good way, of course, but shit, doesn't it get you in trouble a lot?'

'Sometimes,' he agrees.

I kiss his forehead, pushing the soft, silky strands of hair back off his face. 'You're wonderful.'

I carry him over to bed (drag might be a more accurate description), and lay (plonk) him down on the mattress.

'Ow,' he giggles.

'Now who's manly?' I smirk.

Travis laughs hard enough to roll off the bed and hit the floor with a loud 'thump'.

I pick him up and put him back into bed. 'Stay put, Travis.'

'How come you get to boss me around?'

'Because I'm special.'

'I thought you were going to say it's because you're a man,' Travis snickers.

I pull a face and rue the fact that I will, ever, get to be the man of the house.

Well, not really. It's more of a joke than anything, and as long as I have Travis, I think I'll always be happy.