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One college, two distinct groups of students living in different worlds. The college, Grayburn College, an Ivy League college located in upper state New York. One group, the dedicated students of Professor Steve Rogers, chair of the Art History/Studio Art Department. The other, the enthusiastic students of Professor Anthony “Tony” Stark of the Mechanical Engineering Department.
Besides the academic disciplines and students, the professors couldn’t be more different.
Professor “Call Me Tony” Stark showed up late, always with coffee, usually with a smudge of grease or a burn mark in his clothes. His office hours were in a lab, not his office, and he made all his students learn welding. On any given day, you couldn’t tell the difference between Tony, on track to promotion to full professor and one of the highest grant-earning faculty members, and a random engineering grad student.
Tony shared everything about his personal life, rolling into class and talking off hand about his hot model husband and what they had for breakfast or what they were going to do that weekend. A generation of Ph.D students and postdocs had heard it all. Tony’s dating life, when he met that special someone, his relationship, when the boyfriend moved in, his proposal plans, wedding plans, marriage, and everything afterwards. The latest saga was the dog adoption.
Tony was terribly, deeply in love with an amazing man. No one had ever seen his husband or heard his name, and there was not even a single picture in Tony’s messy office and organized lab space. The latest crop of advanced seniors had heard all about Tony’s husband’s preference for stick-shift cars and all the exhausting details why.
Professor “Call Me Professor or Chair” Rogers remained a blank slate. In a discipline known for oversharing, no one knew anything about Professor Rogers. Not where he lived, who he dated, not so much as his favorite foods. For all anyone knew, Professor Rogers went into a college closet at the end of the day and lived there, only emerging to teach his 8:30 am Intro to American Art class.
Students were dying to find out what the deal was about Steve Rogers (they at least knew his first name from looking up his online bio). He was smart, interesting and drop dead gorgeous -- there had to be a story there, something that made him human like them. The most they could find were his degree dates, research interests, and gallery shows. And a long deserted twitter account about baseball. Maybe. It was hard to tell. There were a lot of Steve Rogerses in the world.
And these mysteries were going on at the same time on different parts of campus. A few students twigged that other faculty knew all the relevant facts for Tony and Rogers and infuriatingly no one spilled the beans.
It had been going on now for about seven years or more at this point. If a student had found out a clue or two about Mr. Rogers in the first year or so, those clues passed into legend and handed down from senior to first-year. Tony’s students just wanted to have a name to match the stories and a picture to see if the hot model husband was either a loving husband’s description or objectively drop-dead, mouth-watering handsome. There was a sizable group that firmly believed that Tony had made it all up to entertain the class.
Professor Bruce Banner of the Biomedical Engineering Department would point out if asked that students were not particularly great at observation if they hadn’t found out anything about Tony’s husband or Prof Rogers. Though maybe Banner was biased -- he was known to go out for drinks with Tony after Thursday classes. According to the post-docs.
And if someone did find out, suddenly they felt honor bound not to tell what they found to their classmates. That didn’t make sense. Dean Rhodes laughed when he heard a student complain about a friend keeping secrets about Professors Stark and Rogers.
But then again, all the engineering students knew that Rhodes and Stark had gone to Las Vegas for a wild weekend last year. Not that everyone really thought that happened. Few could imagine the staid dean of the engineering college at a poker table.
Still, the faculty and administration also appeared to be hell-bent on protecting whatever secrets Stark and Rogers had from the students. Or were refusing from basic human decency to gossip on treasured colleagues.
Peter Parker heard the basic story within a few weeks on campus. He knew the whole at the end of his first year. He had come into Grayburn as a declared Mechanical Engineering major and luckily ended up with a work-study job in Tony’s lab during the first semester. So he had opportunity and a keen interest in ferreting out facts.
The key to how Peter found out anything was Postdoc Harley Keener. Harley was leaving Grayburn for a job out at CalTech after the fall semester wrapped up. He asked Peter to help pack up his stuff in the lab. “I thought I’d have time, but I had to go to Tony’s house for a going away dinner.”
Peter perked up at that slip of the tongue. “You’ve been to his house?” Peter asked.
“Yeah, it’s a bit of a drive too.” Harley frowned at the pile of coffee mugs on his desk. “I’m going to leave all these. Not that one.” He snatched a mug with a picture of the Las Vegas sign and hearts all over it. “Tony’s husband gave me that. It’s an old joke.”
“You’ve met his husband,” Peter said in hushed awe. “What’s his name? Is he really a hot model? What’s --”
Harley hefted up a box on his hip and looked Peter square in the eye. “You’ll find out, maybe. I’ve already said too much.”
And with that, that traitor Harley pointed refused to engage on the topic at all.
That was like throwing red meat to Peter, the former chief editor and photographer for his high school newspaper. He had seriously considered journalism, but honestly engineering paid more so that’s what he majored in. His reporter brain prompted him to start recording all the tiny details about Professor Stark he could find.
One fact, he had a confirmed independent witness who had confirmed the existence of Tony’s husband. The second fact was that Tony’s husband had met one of Tony’s students since he had given Harley a mug. A thin amount of information to be working with. But maybe if he dug up more, he’d find the key to it all.
~~~~~
His search expanded to include Professor Rogers when MJ drafted him to take Rogers’ 20th Century Art Class. “It’s 8:30 on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays,” Peter complained.
“I know but it’s the one Arts elective that fits into my schedule, and I need a friend in my misery.” Then MJ poked his shoulder. “You could use it too – knock it off this semester and you don’t have to worry about it next year.”
Prof Rogers came early to class, every day, with his coffee and messenger bag. His thorough syllabus outlined in detail the work expected, where to get the textbooks for cheap, and his grading and absentee policy. Peter could see why he had the very-tough-but-fair reputation. You did the work, you got the grade and you knew exactly why you got the grade you did.
“Can’t forget the groupies,” MJ said as she steered Peter to one side of the classroom on the first day of class.
A small group of students religiously took Prof Rogers’ classes, even the extremely tough Senior Methods class. There was a rumor that a student had had a nervous breakdown from the final paper a couple of years ago. The groupies all sat together and hung on every single word Prof Rogers said and every now and then tried to trick the professor into confessing a single thing about his personal life.
“I can see why he doesn’t say a thing,” Peter said darkly, feeling that Professor Rogers had some privacy rights.
Prof Rogers promptly ended class two minutes before the scheduled end of class, and stayed around for office hours. He had to have an office somewhere in the Arts building. But no student had found it yet. The admin point blank refused to tell anyone where the office was. “Professor Rogers is holding office hours in the library this week,” she would say to any inquiry.
Again, intriguing to MJ and Peter, who dutifully opened his notebook and marked a section for Prof Rogers.
His first clue about Rogers came accidentally. Peter wanted to get to the lab to run a couple of more tests before handing in his lab report to Tony. He’d never been this early in line at the food truck outside the Engineering Building before and found himself stuck between groups of faculty and staff.
“You’d be a natural, Steve, think about it,” Dean Rhodes said behind Peter. “Liberal Arts Dean has a nice ring to it.”
“I don’t know, Rhodey.” Peter nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Prof Rogers’ voice. “I promised him I’d apply for sabbatical. We could use the extra money.”
“Honestly, it’s not much more work than chair.”
“That’s what you all deans say. I’ll remind you about that when the provost’s job opens up.”
Dean Rhodes laughed. “On another subject, how is it going at home with the new –”
“Honey, what’s your order?” the woman in the truck asked, obliterating whatever juicy thing Dean Rhodes was about to ask Prof Rogers.
“Extra large coffee, cream, two sugars,” Peter ordered, a lot less enthused now that he lost a chance to find out more about Rogers. Coffee in hand, he slunk back to the lab, mulling over the brief conversation.
Later, in MJ’s rooms, Peter told her and Ned what he’d overheard.
“That’s weak sauce,” MJ snorted. “All the faculty are talking about the retirement of the Liberal Arts Dean. Taylor’s been in that job since the dawn of time.”
“But, Prof Rogers referred to a ‘him’ and ‘we’ – that implies something,” Peter protested.
“It’s more than what anyone knows, MJ,” Ned agreed. “But MJ’s right too – who knows what Rogers meant by that?”
~~~~~
Tony bounced into the lab at 8:30 am, surprising everyone since he was up early. He usually checked in after 10 am. “I was up early with the new puppy. Hubby insists that I do a morning shift to keep up with the bonding,” he explained as he talked to the postdocs. Tony yawned. “I spent the entire weekend working on Hubby’s motorcycle. I have no idea what he does to it but it was a complete engine overhaul. Good thing he’s married to me or he’d be up to his eyeballs in debt to lesser mechanics. You there – Peter, show me that data again, okay?”
Standing by Tony’s desk with his computer, Peter glanced around looking for clues as Tony poked at spreadsheets. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Not a single thing that hinted at Tony’s life outside the lab and campus.
Except the postcard with a single sentence – ‘Wish you were here ♥️ — dated eight years ago. Peter thought the handwriting looked somewhat familiar.
“Good data,” Tony conceded. Then he smiled at Peter. “Admittedly, you’re a natural at this.”
Peter floated on the way home.
~~~~~
Peter had a breakthrough in his investigations a few weeks into the semester.
He’d left his lab book back in Prof Rogers’ classroom. When he went back to the room, he heard Prof Rogers talking to someone. Peter snuck a look to see Prof Rogers leaning against the lectern with a broad smile on his face and talking on his phone. He looked like a completely different person from the usual taciturn teacher. Like he was actually human. “Short weekend getaway for just the two of us? I could swing that.” Pause. “No, I have papers due that week – I’m not grading on the beach. Could you – wait, that would work. Book the trip.” Pause. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Sabbatical would make this easier.”
Then Prof Rogers tucked his phone in his pocket and Peter had to duck around the corner so he wouldn’t be caught basically spying. He watched Prof Rogers walk down the hallway then meet up with Professor Romanoff. “Nat, going to the college meeting?” Peter let out a breath he hadn’t know he’d been holding.
He whipped out his notebook and wrote down the conversation. Definitely evidence that Prof Rogers had a real significant other in his life because who else would he be talking to about taking a beach vacation. He sighed looking at the mostly blank page marked with Rogers name. He had barely found more than a couple of clues. Today’s clue was big – no one had ever guessed that Prof Rogers had a significant other.
As he expected, in three weeks, Professor Rogers had the class visit the library instead of in-person class time. MJ said, “He never does this, you know that.”
“Vacation or conference. I bet conference,” Ned said.
“That would be on the syllabus already. This was new,” MJ pointed out. “What do you think, Peter? You’ve been the lead investigator.”
Peter thought back to the smile on Prof Rogers’ face as he talked to whoever was on the other end. And suddenly he felt reluctant to share what he knew. If he told MJ and Ned, then somehow the news would get out and to be honest, he wouldn’t have wanted that to happen to him.
“Maybe it’s just a conference,” he said.
Wednesday, the day before the library visit for his art history class, Peter had a shift in Tony’s lab. Riri Williams, the new lab postdoc who replaced Harley, gave him his new work assignment. “Where’s Tony?” he asked.
Riri shrugged. “All he said said was that he wouldn’t be in. Something about the dog. So I’m in charge of the lab until he’s back.”
He had dinner with MJ that night and mentioned Tony being out. “Maybe it’s the dog or he’s somewhere with his never-seen husband with no name,” MJ said.
“You sound like you don’t believe what Tony says about his husband,” Peter observed.
MJ just shook her head. “I mean, everyone just believes him. His stories could be redirection, something to hide the real truth. He could be in Las Vegas with hookers and blow and we’d all think he was taking care of a sick dog. All because he tells us all where he is and what’s going on.”
Peter turned the pages of his investigation notebook. “Harley said that he met Tony’s husband and Harley is a witness that doesn’t gain anything by lying about Tony.”
“True.” MJ twirled her fork in her hand. “But like Tony could be exaggerating his stories and his husband isn’t all that. So we wouldn’t look in the right places.”
“Yeah, well, we’re still at square one and we don’t know more more than we knew a month ago.”
That Tuesday Tony showed up as usual in the lab and went on and on about his dog eating one of his shoes, that the bathroom sink declared a divorce from the house plumbing, and needing to replace his phone. Like MJ said, lots of exaggeration and humor, light on facts.
The mystery just deepened.
~~~~~
A week later, Peter was running to class. He’d overslept that morning and he was late to his homeland security class taught by Professor Romanoff. Considering his luck, he tripped and his entire backpack spilled out all across the hallway. He scrambled to pull his stuff together just as his professor and Professor Barton who taught his statistics class passed by.
Romanoff picked up his investigation notebook. She arched an eyebrow at him as she handed it back to him. Peter mumbled thanks and scooted into the room. After lecture, Romanoff called out, “Could Peter Parker stick around for a minute?”
A spike of fear hit him – that couldn’t be good at all. He put a brave face on as he walked down to the podium.
“It’s not about your grade,” Romanoff said cheerfully.
“Okay,” Peter replied.
“It’s about your investigation – you’re not the first person – but I’ve got a proposition – if you find out who Tony is married to, I’ll give you extra credit.”
“Really?” Peter asked. The extra credit would be much appreciated.
“Yep. You have until the final to find the answer. Worth 10 points.”
“Added to the final grade?”
“Sure.”
“Because you don’t think that I can do it.”
“Kid, I’ve made this offer each semester for the past five years and no one has found out.”
“But you know –”
“I was at Tony’s wedding,” she said as she began to pack up her stuff. She gave Peter a wink.
~~~~~
“Ten points would make a big difference in my grade,” Peter said to Ned and MJ. They were eating in the cafeteria between classes.
“Or she’s setting you up,” Ned said.
“I don’t think so – the class is about cybersecurity,” he said. “I wonder if she’s offered this to other people in class.”
Then three of the other students from Prof Rogers’ class swept by. MJ said darkly, “A couple of members of the Rogers Mafia.”
“Rogers Mafia?” Ned asked.
“Yeah, they just follow him everywhere. Not sure if they’re actual art history majors because they’d have to take classes from other people in the department,” MJ reported.
Yeah, maybe Prof Rogers had a reason to keep his private life super private, Peter thought.
~~~~~
By the end of October, Peter’s investigation stalled out. He hadn’t found out anything more about Prof Rogers, except that he really was a stickler for dates, but not so much for spelling. Nor anything about Tony.
Tony was talking about holiday vacation plans with his hot model-type husband with no name and what should he get him for Christmas. Tony had no idea yet but it had to be good. Apparently the hubby hadn’t appreciated the sweater. “You have no idea how hard it was to find something that fit him like a normal human.”
“How about a new cleaning robot?”
“Peter, he can have a new robot every day of the year,” Tony replied. “He needs something special, something from the heart. Socks don’t cut it.”
After leaving the lab, Peter grabbed his bike from the bike stand outside the lab building. He needed to get to the other side of campus for his statistics class. He reached the first intersection on the main campus road and stopped for the light. The light changed and he surged forward with the other bikes and scooters. Then a car taking the right turn too fast hit the back of Peter’s bike, slamming him in the intersection pavement.
Peter heard the sickening crunch of the car running over his bike. He was too sore to sit up and yell – he could feel the sting of scrapes running down his arms and across his back. He breathed and knew that at least he was still alive and conscious. Oh god, oh god, was anything broken – he had no time to be laid up in bed – he had papers and his lab assignments –
“Don’t move,” a voice said gently.
“Okay,” Peter said as he started to hyperventilate. He had so much work and he couldn’t miss his statistics class.
“Doesn’t look like he broke anything but you should check him out anyway,” the voice said to someone else.
“I’m okay!” Peter blurted out. “I got to get to my statistics class.”
“Son, you need to stay where you are and let the EMTs check you out.”
Pete blinked slowly as he inventoried all his body parts to see if they were still attached and calculated his statistics grade. “I’m okay. No need,” he squeaked out. Then he opened his eyes to see Prof Rogers squatting down next to him.
Prof Rogers put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “All they’re going to do is check you out. We’ll cross the statistics class bridge when we get to it.” He stood up and talked to the EMTs. “He’s talking at least.”
As the EMTs began to check Peter out, he noticed that Prof Rogers picked up his backpack and collected the spilled contents including his laptop. Rogers then lifted the bike out of the gutter. With a sinking stomach, Peter noticed that the frame was wrecked from the accident.
He came back to stay with Peter. “How are you doing?”
“Shaken up.”
“The police are on their way. The EMTs got here because they were behind us.”
“Oh. I’m not making Statistics.”
“Not looking good.”
The EMTs cleaned and bandaged up his scrapes, gave him some basic care information, and then said he was good to go. Then Prof Rogers stayed with him until the police arrived. He was a comforting presence during their interview with Peter, then gave his own statement.
Suddenly it was all over and all Peter had was a wrecked bike, a damaged phone, a wrecked laptop, and police business cards. He wanted to sit on the sidewalk and cry. He didn’t have half the money to replace anything.
“Peter,” Prof Rogers said. “Come with me – looks like you could use a hot meal and rest.”
Stunned, Peter nodded and followed Prof Rogers to his car, which looked like a classic Corvette, but was an electric version. Peter had seen this car in the faculty parking lot on campus – other students in his engineering classes talked about the electric muscle car all the time – but had no idea it belonged to Prof Rogers, of all people. Prof Rogers managed to wedge the bike partially in the trunk.
“Good thing I didn’t take the motorcycle today,” he joked as he started up the car.
They drove about thirty minutes from the campus to a farm. Prof Rogers pulled into a long, winding driveway that led to a large Craftsman-inspired house next to a sprawling garage. Peter swore he could see a couple of llamas wandering nearby.
“You live here?” Peter exclaimed.
“We built the place about four years ago,” he said.
Prof Rogers parked the car on the side of the house and they wrestled the bike out of the trunk. They walked through a side door into a mudroom. Peter put down his backpack and hung up his jacket. “Any preferences about pizza?” Prof Rogers asked.
“No, just lots of it,” Peter answered truthfully.
Peter didn’t know what he expected when he went into the main part of the house. The mudroom opened into a white kitchen with stained-glass pendant lights over the island. Beyond the kitchen he could see a dining room with mission-style furniture.
“The tv is in the main room,” Prof Rogers said.
Peter flopped down on the couch to find something to watch. The tv was a huge centerpiece on one wall, which didn’t seem to be something that Prof Rogers would have in his house. He felt odd at first sitting in a room decorated by a real live adult who just happened to be his art history professor. Green couch and matching loveseat, wood coffee tables, walls covered in art.
“Hey, when do you expect to be home?”
Peter’s ears perked up. Prof Rogers was talking to someone on his phone.
“Can you pick up the pizza on the way home? I put in the order at Stan’s.” Pause. “I have Peter Parker here – he was in an accident.” Pause. “No, no, he’s okay, seems shaken up, upset about missing statistics.” Pause. “See you soon.”
Prof Rogers came in the room, outfitted in layered t-shirts and jeans, a lot less formal than he was in class. Peter didn’t quite swing that way, but anyone alive could see that Rogers was downright gorgeous. “Want anything?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Dinner is on the way. How are you doing?”
“Bruised,” Peter admitted. “Oh no, I have a paper due and homework.” He panicked and then frantically looked for his phone.
Prof Rogers handed over his phone. “I found this on the street.”
“Whew,” he said. The screen was cracked but the phone was functioning at least.
“After dinner, we’ll contact your other professors and get things sorted.”
“Tony – Professor Stark – I had a lab to run –”
Prof Rogers chuckled. “Tony will understand.”
“You know Tony?”
“Who else do you have?”
“Barton – I missed his class and I didn’t hand in my statistics homework and I have more and Romanoff, short paper on cybersecurity readings.”
“Clint and Nat? Okay.” Rogers stepped back out of the room.
Peter put on a robot fighting show. He heard Rogers setting the dining room table. In the past three hours he’d learned more about Prof Rogers than any other student had in the past twelve years. And he was on the verge of meeting Prof Rogers’ family. He couldn’t believe his luck, even though he’d trade what he knew – and what he was going to find out – for a working bicycle.
“What the hell happened to Peter?” Tony shouted from the kitchen. “I saw the bike outside!”
Tony. Professor Stark. Professor Stark was here and why?
“We’ll tell you over dinner. Table is set. Peter?”
Peter arrived in time to see Tony giving Prof Rogers a bouquet of flowers and Prof Rogers giving him a kiss.
The only explanation he had was that he had to have walked into a different dimension. He had no idea that Prof Rogers even knew that Tony existed, much less them being married.
Stunned at finding Tony and Prof Rogers married, Peter slid onto a chair in the dining room. Tony took the chair across from him. “So, Steve, Peter. What happened?”
“Asshole clipped Peter on campus – you know that shitty intersection we complain about all the time? – and crushed his bike. I think I got the license plate,” Prof Rogers said as he reached for pizza.
If you had asked Peter five minutes ago, he never would thought that Prof Rogers even knew what swear words were.
Tony offered him a couple of slice of pizza. “It could have been worse.”
“Clint and Nat say that you can hand in your homework in a couple of days. So just stay here tonight and we’ll get you back to campus tomorrow,” Prof Rogers.
“Prof Rogers, I can’t –”
“You can call me Steve,” Prof Rogers said.
“Take it easy, Peter,” Tony said. “Just hang out. I’ll fix your laptop and you can watch whatever terrible ballgame Steve is going to watch tonight.”
“It’s the end of the World Series, Tony, can’t miss it.”
“Up to you, Peter – you can help me with the laptop or hang with Steve here and watch him swear at the tv.”
“I’m not that bad,” Steve protested with a broad smile at Tony.
They talked about movies for the rest of dinner. Then Peter helped them with the dishes. Tony clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Okay, let’s head to the garage.” He looked at Peter’s phone. “And I might be able to get that fixed too.”
Tony worked his magic and fixed both the laptop and the phone. “You need to let that sit overnight,” he said about Peter’s phone. “We’ll check ‘em in the morning in case I didn’t catch all the problems. Now let’s see how the game is going.”
“Prof Rogers is your husband, right?” Peter asked. “I mean it’s obvious, but –”
“Has been for the last seven years. Lived together before then,” Tony added. “Nat might still give you the extra credit even if you found out because of an accident. She’ll appreciate the extra effort.”
“How did you know?”
“She jokes about giving extra credit all the time in case people find out about Steve and me. She’s never had to until now.”
After the game was over and Steve took the dog for a walk, Peter headed to bed. That’s when Peter saw the wall of photographs on his way to the guest bedroom. Steve and Tony on their wedding day with their friends. He recognized Professor Romanoff, Professor Barton, Professor Banner, Dean Rhodes, Mr. Wilson from Health Services, and the football coach Coach Odinson. Tony with the llamas. Steve in an army uniform. Tony and Steve at the beach. A picture of Tony looking at his phone in a museum. A full life of both of the professors not in the classroom.
Tony and Steve were so clearly in love. Tony had teased Steve all through the last couple of innings and Steve just laughed at him. It was what Tony had told his classes and lab assistants about his husband for years.
That morning he overheard Tony and Steve – it was still hard to think of Professor Rogers as Steve – talking. “Rhodey nominated me for the dean job,” Steve said.
“Oh, are you going to actually apply?” Tony replied.
Peter stopped in the hallway, recognizing he was about to interrupt a serious conversation. Somehow, he felt very protective of the two professors, knowing how long people had tried to pry into their personal life.
“I’d have to give up the sabbatical – we were counting on it – but the money would help with the adoption plans.”
“Do you really want to, though? I’ll just invent something for the extra money and I’ll be getting a raise when the promotion goes through. Dean – that’s a job and a half.”
Steve laughed a little. “Sure is. Maybe when we have to pay for college for the kid.” He turned and said, “Good morning, Peter.”
“How’s one of my favorite lab kids doing this morning?”
“Ready to get back to class.”
~~~~~
Tony drove Peter back to campus. Peter kept tripping over thanking him for all the help. “The laptop – I really need that – thank you so much.”
“Pretty easy fix. I think we could find you something better from the lab’s used computers. I’ll get Riri on it.”
“Oh, wow,” Peter babbled.
Tony coughed. “Hey, could you keep it quiet, you know about Steve and me?” Tony actually sounded a bit nervous.
Peter had long decided that he was never going to share what he knew. He had texted Ned and MJ that he had stayed overnight at Tony’s but that was it. “No, it’s your and Prof Rogers’ business.”
“Thanks.” Tony sounded very relieved. “Steve – he’s always been private and he’s had to fend off a lot of people, you know. So when we started dating we agreed to not tell anyone who isn’t a friend. Then the students started to treat him and me like we’re the world’s greatest mysteries so we kept it going. Can’t disappoint the audience.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
The thing about the secret was that no one would believe Peter if he told them.
No one.
Professor Rogers and Professor Stark couldn’t possibly know each other, much less be married.
“Great – because I can invite you to the Christmas party now.”
~~~~~
Next February, Peter was compiling data in Tony’s lab when the one of the new lab assistants asked out loud, “Who is Tony’s husband?”
Peter glanced up at the new guy and just shrugged. “No one knows.”
“Right, no one knows,” the new guy replied mockingly.
“That’s right,” Peter replied. “No one knows.”