Grace had heard that time heals all things, but if that was the case, she didn’t have the patience for the cure.

Pearce had taken her lesson to heart, finally acknowledging the responsibility it took to care for someone else. Over the past two days, he’d been meticulous, always early for meals, always getting her up on time, Johnny on the spot for diaper changes. He’d stopped pretending that he could casually laugh his way through this.

Grace had proven her point.

And she knew Pearce had learned something else, too: Dependence breeds resentment.

He could talk a big game, say that he didn’t think of her as a burden, claim it’s all ‘Just part of life’, but as soon as he got hit with reality, his song had changed. He could enjoy Grace’s company, or he could dependably care for her needs, but he couldn’t do both.

Grace just wished she wasn’t right all the time.

There’d been no affection. Barely a joke. Diaper changes were done with all the intimacy of a janitor cleaning toilets. She wanted to scream at him: (If you hate me this much, just give up. Walk away from the bet. Stop treating me as a dependent so we can be friends again.)

But Pearce was stubborn, and, unfortunately, he had more discipline than she’d given him credit for. He wouldn’t be forfeiting anytime soon.

And if she forfeit, she’d be admitting something that she didn’t want Pearce to have any place in her life, be it reluctant caretaker or confidant and benefits-friend. She couldn’t wait on him, and she couldn’t walk away either, not if she wanted him back.

There was only one tool left in her arsenal, one surefire way to get any man’s interest back.

Her plan didn’t take much thought. She waited until they had the house to themselves: Skip was at work, Melody was on a date, Brains was–surprisingly–also on a date. (Good for him.) They had privacy.

If she had full control, she’d dress up in something particularly sultry, but obviously it wouldn’t do much good to ask Pearce to change her clothes, he’d know something was up. She could make it work with just a T-shirt and diaper, though–it gave her room to work.

Trying to talk to him just anywhere would be a no-go, however. She had to wait until she had his undivided attention, until he couldn’t simply walk away from what she had to say.

Biding her time, she waited until he came into her room around eight in the evening. Setting a bottle of water on her desk, he leaned over and gave the front of her diaper a squeeze.

He came to the conclusion she’d hoped for. “Seems like you need a change. Come on.”

Taking her hand, he pulled her out of her desk chair. It was the closest skin contact they’d had lately–a good sign, or perhaps just an indication he didn’t care much about the act of touching either way.

While he led her, she worked towards her goal. “Hey, Pearce?”

Pausing in the bathroom doorway, he glanced back at her. “Yeah? What’s up?”

She pulled down on the edge of her shirt ever-so-slightly and bit her lip while he led her inside the room and helped her onto the floor. She gave him her best ‘Cute and helpless’ eyes, too. Laying it on thick, maybe, but Pearce sometimes needed her to be direct.

Trying to catch his gaze, she made her pitch. “I was wondering… do you want some company tonight?”

He shrugged, taking a fresh diaper out of the bathroom cabinet, along with a new box of wipes. Fiddling with it, he got his nails under the plastic seal and peeled it open, never sparing her a second glance. “No thanks, I’ve still got some work to do once this is done.”

Not an outright rejection, at least, though she didn’t like that her charms had to compete with a plastic sticker on a pack of butt wipes. Pushing to be more direct, she clarified. “I don’t just mean hanging out.”

“I don’t want to watch a movie.” Still shutting her down indirectly, Pearce unfolded the new diaper, bending it over his knee to fluff it up a bit. With everything ready to go, then, he finally reached for her old, soggy diaper.

(Don’t chicken out,) Grace thought, waiting until she was untaped and exposed, naked from the waist down. (See if he can say no to this.)

“Let’s have some real fun tonight, okay?” Pulling off her shirt, she exposed her chest, watching carefully to see if Pearce’s gaze would move from her thighs to her breasts. Of course it did–he couldn’t resist the sight of a beautiful, naked girl exposing herself beneath him. She set the garment aside on the floor, scooting on her back towards him, to wrap her legs around him and–

Pearce stood and stepped away from her, stepping around the bathroom so he could pick up her shirt. “Grace.” He lifted her top, crouching and holding it up, waiting for her to raise her arms. “You’re not supposed to change your outfit.”

Grace recoiled as though struck.

(Seriously?)

She shook her head. “Pearce. I’m not here to argue about a crappy tee.”

He didn’t lower the shirt.

“Pearce,” Grace repeated.

“You’re the one insisting we follow the rules to the letter.” Pearce glanced away for a moment, inhaling heavily through his nose–halfway to a sigh of frustration. “So if you want to talk, put this back on, because you’re not going to get what you want sitting in time out.”

It was an attempt to protect her. It had to be.

He wanted her, but he wanted to follow the rules. Hence his frustration–he didn’t like this any more than Grace, but he wanted to live up to her expectations.

She could accept that, even as the thought sent a pulse of insecurity into her brain.

Grace mimicked his breath–in through the nose, out through the mouth. Releasing her frustrations into the air, she complied with his instructions and raised her arms. Pearce pulled the shirt back over her head.

Once ‘properly dressed’, she looked up at Pearce, demanding his attention with her eyes. She had to get to the point, to explain that she didn’t mind a little slack if it meant having Pearce back.

Not the to-the-letter-but-not-the-spirit boring Pearce she’d had the past couple days, and not the lazy, inattentive slacker from before the bet, but her Pearce.

The Pearce who went out of his way to make every outfit an event, even the repeats, fussing over her to get it perfect–perfectly humiliating, but perfect nonetheless.

The Pearce who could go from silly to charming like a light switch flip, who made her laugh more than anyone else she could remember.

The Pearce who sat her down and told her in no uncertain terms that he’d never stop caring for her no matter how much of a burden she represented.

The Pearce who she had fallen in–

(Just tell him what you’re offering,) Grace thought, as he knelt between her naked thighs for the second time.

She took a breath. “So, we’d agreed that ‘Friends with benefits’ was the right term. Do you want to try out some of those benefits?”

There it was, in plain terms. Even if Pearce had realized that casual time with Grace was too much of a burden, that his babysitting duties turned all their interactions into tedious chores, he couldn’t turn down an offer like that. No babysitting stuff, no chores, no burden, just an invitation to fuck.

Pearce hesitated. He pursed his lips as he wiped down her skin–she knew him well enough to tell when he was using busywork as an excuse to think.

(What’s taking him so long? There’s nothing to think about, just–just answer. Please.)

Pearce tossed a wad of baby wipes in the trash, then spoke slowly, still constructing the sentence in his thoughts. “Grace.”

She didn’t need to hear the rest. She knew a ‘No’ when it slapped her in the face.

She could have kept her mouth shut, handled her own shit, never asked for anything that imposed. Instead, she’d tried to get Pearce to prioritize her, and she’d broken it all.

“The last time we slept together,” Pearce continued, dusting down her front with powder, using the action as an excuse to avoid eye contact. “We broke a dozen rules between us, caused a bunch of problems for our jobs, and I cleared out my savings to pay for penalties with the bet.”

“Well we won’t get that elaborate this time,” Grace grasped at straws, trying desperately to make her pitch work. “It doesn’t have to be a marathon session, we can just roll around a bit.”

Pearce pursed his lips and set aside the bottle, finally looking at her for just long enough to point out the distinct lack of appeal in her offer. “So we’ll have abridged sex?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Grace fumbled for words. “Pearce–I want you.”

Sighing, Pearce shook his head. “Do you? Really? Or do you want to be in charge of me?”

Grace blinked, caught at a loss for words.

He slid a diaper beneath her hips. Time was running out.

“This bet cuts two ways.” Pearce said, barely adjusting the diaper before pushing each sticky tape down, sealing them down with four quick, sharp motions. “You wanted to be right? Prove I can’t be responsible? Look at me now. I’m being responsible. But don’t forget the other half. Whether or not you can give up control. Whether you can follow someone else’s judgment. For someone who’s supposedly being cared for, you’ve been making a lot of decisions.”

Shaking her head, Grace tried to offer a defense. “I’m just–you weren’t doing what you’re supposed to!”

“Sure.” He leaned away, turning to hide his face–nominally, so he could get up and wash his hands, but he hadn’t put away the wipes or the powder yet, and any other night, he’d do that before standing. “Whatever. Maybe I wasn’t, but I am now, and you’re still asking for more control. Deciding which rules we can handwave because it’s inconvenient for you, telling me what you want, not accepting ‘no’ for an answer.”

Breath quavering, Grace sat forward, talking to his back. “Well…I… You never said no.”

“I’m saying it right now.” His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, the only sound was water splashing over his fingers. “We tried the friends with benefits thing. It blew up and left us both in a shit position, and for as long as I’m supposed to be in charge of you, the problems that came up aren’t going to go away.”

Grace nodded. Her face felt numb, blank, like she couldn’t summon the expressions she wanted.

“I’m not mad at you, Grace.” Pearce turned off the water. “I just can’t juggle all these roles like you want me to, there’s not enough of me to go around.”

“I get it,” Grace said, forcing her head to nod a few times. “It’s fine.”

She’d asked for too much. She’d asked for care and affection at the same time, and one had strangled the other.

“I need to finish this work,” Pearce insisted, drying off his hands on the towel. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

Grace shook her head.

He crouched, taking the powder and wipes off the floor so he could toss them in the cabinet. She got a glimpse of his eyes, just for a second. They’d gone red in the past few moments since he’d turned his back, shimmering ever so slightly in the light.

She was out of ideas, out of plans. Pearce had turned her down completely. He’d already begun mourning the impossibility of their friendship when he accepted her as nothing but a list of chores. Now Grace could see his thoughts clearly: He’d given up.

She’d been right all along.