(A/N: regarding the multimedia: 1. I'm sorry, and 2. you're welcome. I couldn't help myself. also if it's showing up more than once I don't know why)

Jeremy woke up Monday morning to an increasingly annoying alarm and three text messages.

PLAYER 1: morning <3

SHORTY to YOU, CHRISTIIINE, PLAYER 1 and JAKEY D: hey assholes meet me by the buses

DAD: Cell phone dying, call my work phone if you need me.

Jeremy replied quickly to all of them  -- Michael with a "morning!!", Rich and his father with an "ok". He rolled out of bed, yawning deeply as the Squip appeared in the doorway.

The Squip looked as tired as Jeremy felt, and like something out of a cartoon. He wore a baby blue bathrobe and held a mug of steaming coffee, his hair up in rollers.

Jeremy couldn't help but laugh. "You look ridiculous."

The Squip's image shimmered for a moment, and he was back in his usual attire, looking bright-eyed and wide awake again. "I figured you could use a laugh on a Monday morning. After yesterday, you've set the bar pretty high for a good mood," he smirked.

"Yeah. Thanks for that warning, by the way," Jeremy added.

"Just doing my job," he winked. "Michael is likely to ask you about that, though -- how you knew his father would be there -- so you'll have to lie. Say you heard him coming up the stairs."

Jeremy agreed to this and got ready for school. He was out the door in half an hour, hair combed, clothes on, teeth brushed; looking good, feeling great.

He hummed and danced along to the song playing in his head as he walked, but stopped abruptly when he remembered the Squip didn't like that. Sorry.

"It's alright, Jeremy," the Squip reassured him. "Now that your goal has changed from being chill to being with Michael, he's the only one you have to impress. You can be as much of a nerd, dork, or loser as you like."

Jeremy smiled in an undeniably dorky fashion at that, because he knew the Squip was implying that Michael wouldn't care how uncool Jeremy acted. He liked him for who he was, and that was enough.

"Precisely. Oh, speak of the Devil -- "

Jeremy's phone rang. Michael's picture lit up the screen, and he answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jer, what's up?" Jeremy could hear the unease in Michael's voice.

Now Jeremy was nervous. "Just walking to school, uh, you?"

"Driving," Michael answered simply. "I figured now would be a good time to talk alone-ish." He paused. "I was thinking about yesterday, and... how did you know that my dad was going to butt in on us?" The words spilled from his mouth like blood, involuntary and bitter.

Jeremy looked at the Squip, who nodded. "Oh, I heard him coming up the stairs. Why?"

The Squip rounded on him. "Why would you ask why? Stick to the approved dialogue, Jeremy. I swear..."

Michael sounded a bit unnerved. "No need to get defensive, dude. I'm just... I'm just paranoid since the whole Squip thing, you know?"

"Yeah, no, I get that," Jeremy nodded. He echoed the Squip's next words, feeling more ashamed with every syllable: "But you can trust me."

God, he hated lying to Michael.

They changed the subject and ended up on small talk, with Michael struggling to keep the conversation going and Jeremy offering only the simplest scripted responses. He had no choice but to say whatever the Squip wanted him to; his mind was too full of guilt to form anything coherent.

After what felt like years of directionless conversation, they hung up. Jeremy stopped walking for a moment and tried to gather his thoughts.

He trusts me. He trusts me and I'm taking advantage of him.

"You're not taking advantage," the Squip assured him. "You're doing what's best for both of you."

Jeremy scoffed and started to walk again. "I don't see how this is best."

"Jeremy," reasoned the Squip, slowly and deliberately, "you're a man of logic, aren't you? Do you think your relationship will work better in the hands of me, a hyper-intelligent supercomputer who can all but predict the future, or... in the hands of fate?"

"I feel like this should be an easier decision to make," said Jeremy. "I mean... if you need to convince me to keep you so often... maybe it's not a good idea. Maybe I should go home and drink that Mountain Dew..."

"Give me a week."

Jeremy stopped again, intrigued. "One week?"

"One week. Give me seven days and I will prove to you that I am an invaluable asset to your relationship and a keystone in the security of your happiness." He looked completely sure of himself.

Jeremy, skeptical, scrutinized the Squip's face for any sign of dishonesty, but found none. He nodded cautiously. "Fine. One week." They shook hands. "Now go away and let me think in peace for a while."

The Squip faded away, and Jeremy had his mind to himself again.

Jeremy finally reached the school, spotting a group of his friends by a tree out front. Rich and Jake sat at the base, making out, and Christine and Michael were deep in discussion.

As he approached, he heard bits and pieces of what they were talking about.

"It's gotta be pizza. Everyone likes pizza."

"And everyone doesn't like ice cream!?" Christine turned to Jeremy. "What do you think, Jeremy? Pizza or ice cream?"

Jeremy was taken aback. "Wait, for what?" he inquired as he moved towards Michael.

Christine huffed. "The muskequeers can't decide what to do for a date night, and obviously Rich and Jake are... distracted. So, Michael and I were just discussing which is better for a date. I think ice cream is adorable and super sweet, but he thinks pizza -- "

"Pizza is a party food," Michael interjected. "If you wanna have fun, you need pizza! Tell her, Jeremy." He turned to him, a little starstruck at the sight. "I mean... hi."

Jeremy shook his head in mock disbelief, grinning. "Hi." He was about to say something else, but was cut off by a sharp tap on the back of the head. "Ow -- " He whirled around, panicking for a second at the thought that it might be the Squip, but he spotted Rich sniggering under the tree and a pencil at his own feet.

"Had to come up for air," said Rich.

Jeremy laughed. "That doesn't mean you have to throw things, asshole."

Rich shrugged at him unapologetically. "Yeah, yeah." He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets as he sauntered over. Jake followed close behind. "Jakey, babe, what do you think? Pizza date, ice cream date, or throwing things at Jeremy date?"

Jake contemplated this for a moment. "Pizza is my usual answer, but honestly the Jeremy thing sounds tempting," he replied.

"Get off my dick," Jeremy chuckled, sharing an amused glance with Michael.

Christine immediately became suspicious. "Um, what was that?"

"What was what?" asked Michael innocently.

"That look!" said Jake, catching on to what Christine was getting at. "Heere gave you a look. Not just a look, the look -- "

" -- the 'get off my dick, that's his job' look!" cried Rich. "Are you guys together!?"

The Squip showed up, leaning against the tree casually. "Denial won't help you, your friends know you too well."

Jeremy couldn't argue with that, so he turned to Michael for affirmation. A little nod and a smile was all Jeremy needed to find the courage to take Michael's hand in front of his friends and announce, "Yeah, we are. We're together." Michael melted just hearing the words and couldn't help but lean in for a kiss, which Jeremy happily received.

Christine gasped violently. "We should totally do a double date!"

Jeremy pulled away from Michael. "Wait -- that's it? Your whole reaction?"

Rich snorted. "Dude, nobody is surprised. You've been gay for each other longer than I've been gay for Jake."

"And that's saying a lot," Jake agreed, wrapping an arm around Rich's shoulders. Christine took Jake's other hand and he smiled down at her before giving her a little kiss on the nose. She giggled as a light snowfall began.

"Let's go inside," Christine suggested. "We can hang in the cafetorium before class starts. Oh," she added, "are we on for that double date?"

Jake smacked his forehead. "Guys! Let's go to Sbarro!"

The pizza-place suggestion was received with various levels of excitement, but the group consensus was a resounding yes.

Jeremy turned to his own thoughts, as only one question remained: What am I gonna wear?