Title: The Wife, The Husband, And...
Author: Perpetual Motion
Summary: Discussions of chicken paws, politically correct terms, and a new, random abbreviation of a made up term.
Archive Instructions: You want it, it's yours.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sorkin's. I just borrow and return. Unless it's Will Bailey. (Yum.)
Author's Notes: Started out of nowhere. Kind of ended nowhere. But I enjoy it, so I share. For Julian Lee who will get a reference, and it's her fault I get it, too. :)
The Wife, The Husband, And... by Perpetual Motion
The wife. Well, the wife was being crazy. Ranting something about a speech and traveling and chicken paws, which Jed didn't catch the whole brunt of, but he was pretty sure it wasn't anything he really needed to know or Abby would have said his name and quizzed him by now.
And Leo, the whatever he was. If Jed were a good four decades younger, they'd be boyfriends, if he were three decades younger, they'd be life partners, if he were two decades younger they'd be significant others, and it's moments when he's leetting his mind go like this that the political correctness of his speech drove Jed slowly insane.
And Leo was also going on about chicken paws. As the three of them lay in bed, warm and tired, but not quite ready to turn out the light and go to sleep. Apparently, whatever Abby knew about chicken paws, Leo knew, and he wondered which one had told the other, and then he just stopped caring because the whole conversation was more insane than most of the trivia he pulled out just to mess with the staff.
They lay there. The wife. The husband, and whatever the hell he was supposed to call Leo. He had never been sure, at least not when the three of them had started having sex. Jed sent up a quick nod of thanks to the sixties and experimentation, and the seventies and the eighties and the ninties, and the single digit years they were in now, because they had been the best. With the wife. The husband, and whatever Leo was. He finally asked. Interuppting the ongoing discussion between the wife and Leo on chicken paws.
"What are you?" He looked at Leo.
"What am I?" Leo looked confused. He looked to the wife. Who shrugged.
Jed elaborated. "What are you? Abby's my wife. I'm her husband. What are you? I can't find an appropriate politically correct term."
"Why do you wonder these things this late at night?" But Leo said it smiling. He had always found the random questions cute.
"Because you two are discussing chicken paws. Whatever the hell they are."
Abby giggled against his shoulder. "It's disgusting."
"I'm sure. What are you?" Jed was back to Leo.
"Does it matter?"
"Because she's the wife, I'm the husband, and you're...not properly labeled."
"Are you planning on writing my title somewhere?"
Leo smiled again, because he still found it obnoxiously cute, and he paused to think. "The other guy?"
Abby snorted in disapproval. "It makes you sound cheap. Try again."
"Oh, you're in on this now, too?"
"Only because neither of us will get to sleep until you answer him."
This was true. Leo fell back into thought. He discarded several terms silently. Tried a few out loud. "Am I the life partner of the married couple?"
"No." Jed shook his head. "Too long."
"The third party."
"What about.." He paused, still searching for a word. Finally, he grinned a little. "How about the polyamous part of the equation? We could call it POTE for short."
"POTUS, FLOUTS, and POTE. We sound like warped cat names." Abby laughed.
Jed looked thoughtful. "Can you just be Leo? Is it possible to be someone with someone and not have a title beyond your name?"
"In this day and age, probably not."
"What about in this bed?"
Leo thought a moment. "Yeah. Abby, Jed, and Leo."
"I like mine better."
Jed looked at Abby. "This from the woman seriously discussing chicken paws."
She smiled and kissed him. Then smiled and kissed Leo. And they smiled and kissed each other. And they all fell asleep. The wife. The husband. And Leo.
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