Cortez woke up to whispering.

"I didn't know he snored!"

"You never asked. I could have told you."

Harl giggled. "It's cute. He's so cute."

Tippy shifted in the blankets. "We never asked him why he came over. I don't think he expected… all this."

"We can ask him when he's awake. Do you want me to make breakfast?"

"Do you know what Cortez would want?"

"No, but I don't want to wake him up just to ask…"

"I'm awake," Cortez mumbled. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. "What time's it?"

"Good morning!" Harl said brightly. "It's, um, five in the morning. We went to bed pretty early, haha. Do you have work today?"

"Oh, no." Cortez yawned. "I quit."

Silence followed his words. Cortez looked up to see Harl and Tippy looking at him in concern. "Forgive me for asking," Tippy said, "but you have another job lined up, correct?"

Cortez hesitated. "Not exactly."

"You just quit?" Harl said in alarm. "Was it 'cause of what I said?"

"No, no, of course not, I just…"

He put a hand to his forehead and took a breath. "You were right that I was miserable there," he said. "I had that meeting with my boss to reduce my hours, and, well, he refused."

"What?" Tippy exclaimed. "That's ridiculous, if you're outright asking for less hours to be paid–"

"Let me finish, please."

Tippy shut his mouth. Cortez rubbed his eyes again. "I was angry," he said. "I was so, so angry. I yelled at him a bit, and then…"

He couldn't finish. Cortez felt tears welling up in his eyes and he looked away. "Nothing even happened," he said. "I got upset, I quit, and I left. That's all."

"That's all?" Tippy asked quietly. "You just got angry?"

He couldn't speak for a moment, the words flowing to his tongue and yet refusing to be voiced. Finally, he pushed them out. "I thought about using my powers on him," he said. "I didn't, but I still thought about it. And that…"

He couldn't continue. Wordlessly, Harl and Tippy hugged him. He sobbed and clung to them both, his body shaking.

"It's okay, Cortez," Harl said quietly. "No one was hurt, right? So it's okay."

"I could've," Cortez choked out. "I wanted to hurt him. What if I had?"

"You didn't," said Tippy. "You felt the urge in the moment, and the moment passed, and no one was hurt. I'm proud of you, Cortez."

Hearing that from Tippy just made him cry harder. Cortez pressed his face into Tippy's chest–and promptly pulled back, wrinkling his nose. "You stink," he said, forgetting he had just been sobbing. "Why?"

Tippy snorted and covered his mouth to hide his smile. "Ah, I haven't showed in a little too long. I've had a bout of depression."

"God, I've been there." Cortez rubbed his nose. "God. How did I not notice that last night?"

"Clearly you had other things on your mind."

"Tippy's right, you know," Harl said. "I'm proud of you, too."

"For what?" Cortez said. "Not doing something?"

"I mean, yeah? You wanted to hurt someone and you didn't. That's a good thing."

"I don't know." His sobbing had stopped, but tears still ran down Cortez's face. His nose was running, too. He could hardly smell Tippy's funk through it, though the whiff he got before was bad enough. "Maybe a good person would've sucked it up and kept the damn job."

"To what end?" Tippy asked. "I've heard of the management there. They're not the finest people. Why should you have to suffer for them?"

Cortez groaned. "Stop logic-ing me, I'm trying to be miserable."

"I don't like seeing you miserable," Harl said. "We'll help you, okay? If you want to get a new job, or if you don't, or whatever happens. Okay?"

Cortez rubbed his eyes. "I'll probably feel better if I eat something," he said. "I haven't exactly… well, none of us had dinner, but I skipped lunch, too."

"Good grief," said Tippy. "I'm going to put some waffles in the toaster. You come out and get them whenever you're ready."

Tippy got out of bed, stopped for a moment to dress himself, and walked out of the room in a few long strides. Cortez sighed and leaned into Harl.

Harl put an arm around him. "I really mean it," he said. "You're going to be okay."

"I know," said Cortez. "It's hard to feel okay, sometimes, but I know."

He yawned. Harl kissed his cheek. "Do you want the waffles now?" he asked. "I know it's still early, me and Tippy's sleep schedules are just weird."

"I am not a morning person," Cortez said, and he yawned again. "I'll stay in bed a little longer."

"Okay!" Harl hopped out of bed. "I'll tell Tippy not to make too many waffles. Or maybe he'll let you eat them in here? He's normally really strict about not getting crumbs in bed. I'll ask!"

Harl kept rambling as he found clothes and pulled them on. Cortez lay his head back down and closed his eyes. Eventually, the faint sounds of Harl and Tippy talking in the other room faded, and he fell back asleep.

---

The next time he woke up, Harl was able to coax him out of bed for breakfast. Cortez ate a few waffles with Harl while Tippy cleaned up the kitchen. There wasn't much to clean, but Tippy kept wiping down the counters anyway. He must be nervous, Cortez thought.

When he was done eating, Harl cleared his throat. "We should talk about what happens next," he said. "You know, about us and, um…"

Cortez nodded and pushed his plate away. "Sounds fair to me," he said. "I need to figure out something with my apartment before next month's rent."

Tippy dropped the cleaning rag in the sink and sat down with them. "I have to ask," he said, "you did mean what you said last night, right? That you wanted to be with both of us?"

"Getting right into it, huh?" Cortez said with half a smile. "Yes, I meant every word."

Tippy exhaled. "That's good," he said. "I was fairly certain, but… knowing you were in an emotional state at the time, I wanted to be sure I didn't pressure you into anything."

Cortez snorted. "I may have been acting on impulse, but I don't regret it, that's for sure."

"So let's talk about the apartment," Tippy said. "If you're alright with it, I can get my stepfather to cover the costs."

Cortez blinked. "Really? He'd do that?"

"Our relationship may be strained, but Fendrich still cares for me. He helped me with my previous apartment when I moved in with Harl, so I imagine he could help you as well."

"Alright," Cortez said. "I mean, sure, that works. I'll need to deal with all my other bills, but I can probably do that once I get a new job."

Harl tilted his head. "Do you want a new job?"

"I mean, yeah. More for the paycheck than actually wanting to work, but I wouldn't feel right not doing something to support myself."

"That's fair! Maybe you should take a week or two off, though, so you can feel better."

"Right, right." Cortez rubbed his eyes. "Do you mind if I spend the day with you? I don't think I want to be alone."

"Of course!" Harl said. "We didn't have anything planned. Oh! What if we go to the beach? It's still early, so it won't be too hot."

"Fine with me. Tippy needs a shower first."

"Hey," Tippy said crossly, then added, "I do, though."

Harl nodded. "How about you take a shower and me and Cortez go back to his apartment for a little bit?"

"What?" Cortez said. "Why?"

"'Cause you need to brush your teeth, silly!"

Harl leaned over and booped his nose. Cortez shook his head with a smile. "I don't need to that badly…"

"Nope! Dental hygiene is important! Come on!"

He took his hand and stood up. Cortez sighed, but waved goodbye to Tippy as Harl gently pulled him to the nearest door. "I'll be back in a bit," he said. "I…"

He trailed off. "Bye, Tippy!" Harl chirped. "I love you!"

Tippy smiled. "I love you too," he said, and dammit, Cortez saw the twinkle in his eye and knew that Tippy could tell what he was always slow to say.

He left it unsaid. Tippy must know that he knew, too.

---

Back in his apartment, Cortez brushed his teeth and remembered his missing phone. "I have to go back to work," he said to Harl.

Harl looked up from the couch. "What? Why?"

"I left my phone in my locker." He sighed. "I don't exactly want to go back, but…"

"Oh! I can get it!"

"Huh?"

Harl stood up. "Hang on," he said, and darted over to a kitchen cabinet. While Cortez watched, Harl took out his own phone, dialed a number, and after a few seconds, opened the cabinet and pulled Cortez' bag with the ringing phone out of it.

"Ta-da!" he announced.

Cortez laughed and accepted the bag. "Thank you," he said. "That's one thing I don't have to deal with anymore. Should we go back to Tippy?"

"He's not gonna be done showering yet, we can wait a little longer."

Cortez raised an eyebrow. "Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Um." Harl hesitated. "I mean, not really? I just…"

He trailed off. Cortez shook his head and smiled. "It's fine if there's nothing. I won't push it."

Harl nodded and took a deep breath.

"You have to promise not to die," he said.

Cortez's eyes widened. "I'm sorry?"

"You have to promise," Harl said firmly. "I want to be there to help you through depression and everything else, but I can't stop you from doing anything bad, and I don't want to have that much control over you, anyway. So you have to promise not to die on purpose."

"Oh." Cortez sighed and attempted to smile. "I promise, Harl, I'm not going to kill myself."

Harl twisted his hands together. "And–and if you ever feel like you might break that promise–"

"What brings this on, Harl?"

"Nothing!"

"Was it me quitting my job?"

Harl looked away. "Yeah," he said. "I mean, I know why you did it, and it's not like it was the wrong decision, but it scared me. Just a little, especially 'cause I know you're depressed, and I know that when someone makes a big life decision, um…"

"Come here."

Cortez held his arms out, and Harl gratefully accepted the hug. "I promise," Cortez said, "that I won't ever kill myself, and if I ever need help not to break that promise, I'll tell you. I have the support of two very wonderful boyfriends, so I know I'll be okay."

Harl pressed his head into Cortez's shoulder. "Okay," he mumbled. "I love you, Cortez."

"I love you too, Harl." He let go. "Let's go back. Tippy doesn't take very long showers."

Harl smiled and rubbed his eyes. "I know," he said. "Thank you."

---

When they were all cleaned up and ready for the beach, the temperature had already climbed into the eighties. "That's not too hot," Tippy said, peering at Harl's phone screen. "It won't go above ninety, at least."

"That's hot for me!" Harl sighed and put his phone away. "Let's do something else."

"I'd still like to do something in the beach area," said Cortez. "It could be indoors. There's a new restaurant on the boardwalk."

"Ooh, the pirate themed one?" Harl brightened up. "That sounds fun!"

"Well, it depends on how well they do it," Tippy said. "If they don't have period accurate clothing, it'll suck all the joy out."

Cortez rolled his eyes. "I'm sure it'll be fine," he said. "Let's at least give it a shot."

He moved to open the apartment door, but Tippy got to it first. "Allow me," he said, and opened it with a flourish. On the other side, beach grass swayed in the wind, and a few grains of sand blew in.

Harl giggled. "Wow, Tippy! You're so good at opening doors!"

"You just thought I would do it wrong, didn't you?" said Cortez.

Tippy laughed. "If only to annoy me, yes."

"Can you guys get out of the way?" said a beach-goer in a bikini. "I have to use the bathroom."

The three of them apologized quickly and stepped through, returning the door to it's original destination as they did.

---

Predictably, the restaurant served seafood. The waiters all wore a variety of pirate outfits, most of them on the quality of packaged Halloween costumes. Far from sucking the joy out of their experience, Tippy and Cortez pointed out all the cheap details to each other, while Harl, giggling, tried to shush them.

"Are they even trying?" Cortez said with a grin. "I don't know if pirates wore corsets, but she's clearly not wearing it correctly."

"Honestly." Tippy covered his mouth to hide his own smile. "Far from period accurate, I could find something more fitting in my closet."

"Yeah, I'm sure you could cobble something better from all your identical doorman outfits."

"Well, actually, red fabric during that time period was–"

"Are you going to order?" their waiter said, wearing a baseball cap with a skull and crossbones on it.

Their food took nearly forty-five minutes to be ready, and by that point, Harl and Cortez were imitating pirate accents to varying degrees of success. "You sound awful," Cortez said through tears of laughter. "It's almost like you've never been a pirate before!"

"I was a stowaway once!" Harl said brightly, which sent both of them into hysterics.

Tippy looked away to scan the restaurant for their waiter. "This is nice," he said, "but they're woefully understaffed. I'm surprised the restaurant is even open."

"I hope it's not deliberate," Cortez said. "I know some places will understaff on purpose."

"Trust me," said their waiter, startling them both, "it's not deliberate. Captain Facepatch has been trying to get more staff on board, but a pirate-themed restaurant is kind of a niche concept, and food service doesn't have an appealing job description, even if this place isn't as bad as most. I worked at the Awful Waffle for a while, and let me tell you–"

"Captain Facepatch?" Cortez asked, stopping the ramble before it could begin. "I don't think I've met him before."

"Oh, he recently came back to the city. He's a descendant of Captain Nosepatch, but instead of, like, capturing people and looking for treasure, he's a good guy. He's trying to bring pirates into a more positive light, if not a historically accurate one." The waiter shrugged. "You can come to Pirate Thursdays if you want to meet him? Free event, you just gotta dress like a pirate."

"Huh," said Cortez. "I might take you up on that offer."

"Alright, I'll keep an eye out for you."

The waiter turned around and nearly collided with the person carrying their food. Luckily, the only casualty was a piece of bread that rolled off the tray and onto the floor, which Harl picked up and ate anyway.

"Don't do that," Tippy said. "That's disgusting."

"Five second rule," Harl said with his mouth full. Cortez laughed and began eating his own food.

---

His phone buzzed him awake the next morning, after Harl and Tippy had already gotten out of bed. Cortez sat up, rubbing his eyes and blinking until he could read the name on the caller ID. "Oh," he mumbled, and answered.

"Hey, Cortez."

"Hey, Shirley," he said. "Been a while, huh?"

"Yeah, a little bit. Don't worry, I know you've been busy with Harl."

Cortez smiled. "Did he tell you about our, ah, new relationship dynamic?"

"Sure did!" Shirley laughed. "Congratulations on that! I just wanted to catch up, see how everything's going."

"Right, right." Cortez yawned. "It's going good, Shirley. It really is."

"You certain? Last I talked to you, you were pretty badly depressed."

"Well, sure, that hasn't gone away, but…" Cortez hesitated. "I'm doing good, really. I realized the way I was living wasn't sustainable, and I'm working on making it better."

"Really! You finally quit that job?"

Cortez snorted. "As of two days ago, yes."

"Good, that was really affecting you badly." Shirley coughed. "And, ah, how are things with Tippy?"

"Oh, he's good."

"You answered that really fast."

Cortez laughed. "Is that surprising? Look, I'm not going to tell you how to feel about him, but he's really been working on himself." He looked up at the ceiling. "Like me, he realized he couldn't keep on living the way he was, and like me, he made it better. We're all working to make our lives better."

"Huh," said Shirley. "I can tell you're happier, definitely. I'm glad for that."

"Thanks, Shirley."

"Are you up, Cortez?" Harl called from the other room. "We made breakfast!"

Cortez covered the microphone. "Coming!" he called back, then returned to Shirley. "Hey, I've got to let you go. I'll try to keep in touch, alright?"

"You better. I worry about you, y'know?"

He shook his head. "I'll talk to you later, Shirley."

"Have a good one," Shirley said, and she hung up. Cortez put his phone away and emerged from the bedroom.

Harl greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. "That was Shirley?" he said. "How's she doing?"

"Good, good." Cortez smiled. "She was just checking in with me, y'know? Haven't talked to her in a while. Where's Tippy?"

"He just stepped out for a minute. He said he wants to talk to Fendrich about helping you with your apartment today. Do you want to be there? It's probably okay if you aren't."

"I ought to be. It's my apartment, after all."

A thought occurred to him: Shirley must think he was still only dating Harl, not Harl and Tippy both. How would she react to him dating the man who tried to kill him?

He dismissed any concern that threatened to pop up. They'd cross that bridge when they got to it.