A/N: Just in case it's not obvious, Subject D=Dylan and Subject E=Ellie. Think "spy mission-like" kind of thing, lol.

Epilogue- Monday, Two Weeks Later

As silently as I could, I crept out into the kitchen. Subject D was currently showering. Subject E was asleep at the table. I had only minutes.

Darting past snoring Subject E, who's coffee mug was dangerously close to the falling off the edge of the table, I at last reached the front hall. I considered removing Subject E's mug from her grasp and setting it safely on the counter, but for one thing, I couldn't take a chance on waking her. For another, the water had just stopped running upstairs: Subject D would be down any minute.

Bracing myself against the biting chill of the winter morning, I threw open the door and hurried outside. Clutching the teal fabric in my hand tightly, I raced toward Object T, AKA the trash at the end of our driveway.

Immediately upon reaching it, I opened the lid and tossed the fabric inside. Letting the lid close with a heavy 'thud,' I scurried back up to the house.

Mission complete.

I slid back into the kitchen just as Subject D entered from the other doorway, dressed only in a pair of plaid pajama pants. Victory never tasted― or looked― so good.

"Hey honey, have you seen my robe anywhere? I can't find it," said Dylan, obviously bewildered.

I turned away under the pretense of pouring myself some coffee. "Um, no babe. I haven't seen it."

"Oh. That's weird. I guess I'll just go get a shirt, then. It's freezing."

Wait. Did he just say shirt? That wasn't part of the plan. Code red! Code red!

"What? A shirt?" I repeated. No. Not that. Anything but that. I had finally succeeded in removing the evil presence of The Robe from our household, and now he was going to wear shirts instead? Did he hate me so much?

"Yeah, I'm just going to go get a T-shirt. I'll be right back down," he said, turning to go back upstairs.

"Wait! You can't," I said, causing him to stop in his tracks.

"Um…why not?" he asked, looking back at me as though he thought I'd gone insane.

"Uh, because…well, I…it was…"

"Marco, are you okay?"

"I know what happened to your robe," I blurted. Dylan's eyebrows rose in shock.

"You do? Where is it?"

"Outside. In the trash can," I said, averting my eyes.

"What?" he hurried through the kitchen to the front door, and I followed at his heels. We peered through the little glass window in the door, watching as the garbage truck pulled up and emptied the can. A few seconds later, it drove off, carting Dylan's robe away with it.

"Marco?" he said slowly.

"Yeah?" I tried to look innocent. And failed, rather miserably, I might add.

"Why was my robe in the trash can?"

"Cause."

"Cause why?"

"Cause I thought without it I'd get to see this every morning!" I exclaimed, gesturing at wildly at Dylan, in all his half-naked, bare-chested glory. Much to my surprise, rather than looking angry, he smirked. I had a feeling I had just helped to inflate his already swollen Michalchuk Ego. Like it wasn't already big enough.

"Oh, really?"

"Um, Dylan? Why are you looking at me like that?" He was grinning at me, slowly closing the twelve or so inches between us. Finally, he was so close that I was forced to back into the door. He brought a hand up on either side of the door frame, trapping me where I was, with my back pressed against the door and my front pressed against him.

"Cause."

"Cause wh―" I began, but he cut me off with a kiss. Then another. Then another, hard and demanding, and I let myself get lost, bringing my arms up around his neck to pull him closer. I could hardly even feel the doorknob jamming me in the back, I had such an intoxicating distraction. Mmm. A distraction who smelled quite pleasant after his shower.

"You got a few minutes before you have to leave?" he muttered, a bit winded, when we broke for air.

"A few," I answered, struggling to bring air into my lungs, and grinning at what I knew was going through his mind.

"Few's good. Let's go." He released me; we turned to go back through the kitchen, and immediately froze at the sight of the figure in the doorway. Ellie had woken up, and was surveying us with disbelief. She shook her head.

"You two hopeless cases," she said matter-of-factly. "Give me five minutes, and I'll be gone. If you two sex-crazed maniacs can wait that long."

Dylan frowned in consideration. "Better make it three minutes."

"And you wonder why Paige doesn't visit more often," Ellie muttered, turning on her heel to go back into the kitchen.

"C'mon," whispered Dylan, grabbing my hand and pulling me in the direction of the stairs. At last, fathers were back home where they belonged, gorgeous boyfriends were shirtless, roommates thought their friends were crazed sex-addicts, and all was right with the world.

A/N: So, now it's over. I'm gonna miss writing this thing. But, on to the next darco fic! Lol. I have a couple of ideas and I've even started one that I might post. But anyway, one last time (for this fic, anyway) I'll ask… please review? Lol. ;D